Title & Summary -
This Is Not About You - Jim's disappointment sends Blair into the path of an enemy.

Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.

Note from the Author: Takes place after TSbyBS. Written to fill a request. Jim and Blair were supposed to separate after an argument, and Jim has to find him. Many thanks to Lyn and Sylvia for taking their time to beta this story.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU
By Jael Lyn
February 2001

"I don't believe this. You have got to be kidding me." Simon scanned down the list again. Each candidate was listed, followed by the evaluator's preliminary score out of 10.

Seven evaluators. Seven top PD officers, all veterans, possessing plenty of street experience.

No matter how you explained it, five 10's and two 0's did not add up to a move to the next step in the promotion process. It also smacked of bias, at least in the opinion of Captain Simon Banks.

"Look, Banks, we all have our top candidates and we all understand everyone doesn't agree. Just because it isn't looking good for Ellison doesn't justify a tirade," David Staley answered. "We're supposed to give honest opinions here, not just rubber-stamp applications. All of these people being considered are good officers, and they're not all going to get promoted."

"Well that's just fine with me," fumed Simon. "We're also supposed to speak freely, and I want to hear what justification you and Randall have for giving a zero to anyone on this list. I'm listening." The two captains remained silent, so Simon plunged ahead. "If you gave the score you'd better be ready to back it up. The man's been Officer of the Year twice, and he has the highest solve rate in the city, probably in the state. He was in the top 3% of the last exam scores. And this gets a score of 0?"

Chief Warren broke in. "I think Simon has a point. That score indicates that you think Ellison is unsuitable under any circumstances." Warren wasn't there to vote; he was a moderator only. Things were getting heated, and it was a good time for him to speak up. "I think you owe the selection committee an explanation."

Randall and Staley looked at each other, and apparently Randall got the nomination. "It's that whole mess with the observer, about Ellison being some kind of superman or something. It's not a level playing field for the other candidates."

Simon didn't make any attempt to contain his shock. "That was publicly repudiated. How can it possibly be considered in Ellison's evaluation?"

"Because I don't believe it, that's why, Banks," Randall replied angrily. "Ellison's a phenom. No one's that good without an edge. I don't care if Sandburg denied it, and I don't care if you deny it. Where there's smoke, there's fire." He looked defiantly at Chief Warren. "If it was a better PR move for the Cascade PD to say Ellison's just a regular guy, well, I'll play along, but this is an internal matter. Like Banks says, we're supposed to speak freely. I'll never repeat that outside of this room, for the good of the department."

"We are supposed to be promoting our best people," Chief Warren answered softly. "Ellison is good at his job for a lot of reasons. He's educated, he had an outstanding career in the military, he's intelligent and completely dedicated. He's had a great track record for years, even if you discount the last few while he's been with Sandburg. That's a lot to dismiss on the basis of rumor, especially a rumor that has already been dealt with."

"Here's how I look at it," Staley volunteered. "What if we had a great candidate and found out he or she was getting enough inside information from some questionable source, enough to improve the solve rate and look really good. Nothing illegal, like bribes, just some sort of an extra edge. Would we have some reservations, even if the officer was highly successful? Would we wonder if the success would continue, especially if it was dependent on an outside factor? Of course we would. I look at Ellison's situation in the same light. If I can't be sure of the guy, then I can't recommend him for promotion."

Plenty of heads around the table nodded. Simon knew he was in real trouble. "So what's Ellison supposed to do, David?" he asked. "How can he prove he doesn't have an ability over and above denying it? Do worse work? Wouldn't that just validate your theory? What are we supposed to say? You're too good, so you can't be promoted?"

"Look, Simon, we've known each other a long time," Mark Randall answered. "I understand where you're coming from, and I agree it is catch-22. I just think we should wait a couple of years, see how it goes."

"It doesn't seem right for a man to put his career on hold that way," Gordon Gates volunteered. "I had Ellison in my command for awhile when he first started out. He was always a standout cop. He got a late start as it was, coming out of the military. Waiting a couple years...we might be waiting him right out of the opportunity to advance."

"I have a recommendation," Chief Warren volunteered. "Instead of the usual ten names, let's retain eleven, and keep Ellison under consideration. We can all continue to mull this over and try to come to a consensus at a later time."

Simon's heart sank. They'd already destroyed Sandburg's anthropology career over this Sentinel stuff. Was Jim's career going to end up in ashes as well? This was only a temporary reprieve. He'd have to talk with Jim and prepare him for the worst.

*****

Blair looked mildly amused. "Simon, you invited us. We've finished the snacks, and inhaled the pizza. Don't you think you ought to go ahead and spit it out?"

"Spit what out? A perfectly good piece of mushroom and olive?" Simon bantered. He couldn't keep it up, and his tone changed. "Maybe we should wait for Jim to get back."

"Maybe we should view it as an omen that he went to get some more of his favorite chips before the game starts. Quit messing around, Simon."

Simon toyed with the idea of reprimanding his most junior detective, but gave it up. Sandburg was still the expert as far as he was concerned. "There's a problem with Jim's promotion. I'm violating all procedural rules to discuss it." Simon's face and voice were grave, but he looked Blair in the eye. "Some of the review board feel he's an unacceptable candidate."

Where Jim was concerned, Blair was never very good at concealing his emotions. At that moment, they ran the gamut, from shock to anger, to finish somewhere between guilt and regret. "Let me guess, this is about Sentinel stuff. I wouldn't be part of the conversation if it weren't. How can they do this?" Blair looked down at the floor, trying to gather his thoughts. "Am I part of the problem, Simon? Tell me now, honestly, before Jim comes back. Is this just a matter of using Jim as a convenient target because I came in under a cloud?"

"Honestly, no. It's more..." Simon struggled for the explanation. "They don't buy the press conference. Because of Jim's record, they suspect it was true. If Jim really has some physical edge, they're not sure they want to trust it, or reward it."

"Even though his work is exemplary?"

"Almost because it's exemplary, if that makes any sense."

"Then there's no way out," Blair stated flatly. "He could prove that he has enhanced senses, but he can't prove he doesn't."

"You see the problem." Simon fidgeted in his chair. "I dread telling Jim this, and not just because it may be bad news. Other than making the move from uniform to detective, I never knew Jim to care about moving up in rank before. I could never even get him to look at the paperwork, much less fill it out, until this time around. It's a little out of character that he seems to care so much about this. We meet again in a week. I don't know what to tell him."

They both started as the door banged open. A glowering Jim Ellison filled the doorway. At least Simon didn't need to worry about how to open the conversation.

*****

"Jim, that is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard you say!" Blair yelled. "You are not thinking rationally."

"I was a good cop before these damn senses," Jim shouted back. "I can be a good cop if they aren't an issue."

"Stop it, both of you! Of course you were, and are, a good cop, Jim. That is not the point," Simon bellowed, wondering how he had managed to let this situation spiral out of control. He'd never seen Jim this angry, and Blair wasn't far behind. They'd been going at it for twenty minutes, and it was getting worse.

"This is my life you're debating," Jim growled right back, refusing to calm down. "My life! What gives you the right?"

"And what is it to me, Jim?" Blair's voice was suddenly quiet, but pure ice. "Where am I in this picture if you just turn off your senses?"

"You're my partner. Isn't that obvious?" The two men were nose to nose. This was either going to resolve itself right now, or Simon would be trying to keep them from killing each other.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? I can't believe you said that, Sandburg. You telling me I'm still just a research project? That the only reason you're my partner is to be a modern day Burton and trail your pet Sentinel?" He poked Blair in the chest with a finger. "I choose. I can still choose. If you're really my partner, it shouldn't matter either way."

"If you hate your senses, in the long run, you have to hate me." Blair's voice was barely more than a whisper. "It's just a matter of time before you figure it out."

"So now I don't know my own mind," Jim countered sarcastically. "I'm just a bunch of nerve endings and nothing more. That's what it comes down to."

Blair didn't say a word, but he wasn't backing down either. He turned his back on Jim and left the room. He came back with his coat already on. He flipped his shield at Simon.

"Tell them the truth, Simon. Tell them the senses were for real, and now they're gone. Tell them that without me around, Jim doesn't have any inclination, or the ability, to pursue them. Maybe you can salvage the promotion, or at least clear the way for the next time around."

Jim was raging again. "So your solution is to run? How very Sandburg."

Blair spoke only to Simon, as if Jim had ceased to exist. "Try to explain to Jim that I'm not such a coward that I want to stay. I'm not so helpless that I can't start over on my own."

Simon grabbed the young man by the arm. He pulled back when he saw the look in Blair's eyes.

"I'd appreciate it if you would box up my stuff. I promise you that I will send for it."

He walked out, and Simon didn't try to stop him. He stared at Jim, aghast that Jim couldn't find enough self-control to stop this from happening.

"He won't go," Jim snarled. "You'll see." He folded his arms across his chest. "I refuse to let these senses rule my life any longer, but I know he won't really go."

Simon didn't know where to start first. He was appalled to have somehow started this disaster. What was going on here? Sandburg wasn't coming back - he was sure of it.

"What have you done, Ellison? Where's your head, man?" Simon replaced Blair in Jim's face, nose to nose. "He meant it! Is that really what you want?"

Jim was still seething. "He's my partner. He says he's my friend. The Sentinel stuff shouldn't matter. He just walks out and you take me to task?"

"I was here, Jim. I heard both sides, remember? Sandburg didn't see it that way."

"Well, why not? I said it in English." Jim paced around the room, still shouting. "What, because I didn't light candles, or ...or play some weird music and chant, that what I say doesn't count?" Now it was Jim's turn to grab a coat. "I've got to get out of here, Simon."

"You need to go get him, Jim. Go get him before you don't have the option!"

His only answer was the door slamming shut. Simon sank into a chair. What to do? His gut told him Blair wasn't going back to the loft. Where would he go? They came in Jim's truck. He'd be on foot, or on the bus. Simon grabbed his own keys and barely took time to lock the house. If he couldn't get through to Jim right now, maybe he could at least slow Sandburg down. Buy a little time. He started his search, cruising through the nearby streets, hoping to catch sight of Blair before they couldn't track him at all.

****

Blair Sandburg was not on the street, and he was not on a bus, at least initially. He flagged down the first car he saw and sweet-talked his way into a ride to a mall a few miles from Simon's house. He got some cash at the ATM, and settled into one of the hard plastic booths at a Taco Time. Tearing apart a taco he had no intention of eating, he sorted through his options.

Before the diss, he would have run to the university. Camped in his office until Jim calmed down. Waited until Jim reconciled whatever trust issues were on the front burner. Those were the days when he and Jim still had some separation. At the moment, he had nowhere to retreat, and he wasn't going to go through this with Jim again. Enough was enough. He needed a phone, he needed a roof, and he badly needed to get a life.

Okay, he could crash the PD to use a phone. Simon wouldn't say anything about him turning in his badge, not just yet. He'd keep that quiet in hopes of reversing the decision. That took care of a phone. A roof? He could use the hostel downtown, at least for a night. Jim wasn't a hostel kind of guy. Even if Jim or Simon decided to look for him, that wouldn't be the first place that would come to mind.

He saw the bus approaching and deserted the taco. As he dodged through the rain, he was mentally sorting through the possibilities. He had a lifetime of contacts from traveling with Naomi, and it was time to call them in. He could have a temporary situation set up before midnight, and it sure wouldn't be anywhere near Cascade.

He shivered in the bus seat as a trickle of rainwater ran down his back. Somewhere real dry and real warm sounded pretty promising right now.

*****

Jim Ellison wanted to rip something apart. He crossed the living room of the loft, tearing off his coat, then his shirt, then his shoes. He stormed up the stairs and ransacked one drawer after another, leaving the wreckage on the floor. When he couldn't find his running shoes, he threw everything out of the closet in huge armfuls.

He would run out his rage. It didn't matter if it was night and it didn't matter if it was raining. He would run his body into numb exhaustion, and then he'd turn off these senses for good. He was tired of the balancing act. The freak show part of his life was over, starting right now.

He didn't take a watch. Time didn't matter. He'd come back only when he had burned it all out of his mind and body.

*****

It was nearly midnight. Simon tried calling the loft again, tried Sandburg's cell, then Ellison's. No answer anywhere. His own neighborhood search had been fruitless. Now he couldn't find either of his men. Despairing, Simon flopped down on the mattress. He doubted that sleep would come soon. If he couldn't find them, maybe he could figure out what had happened.

Sandburg. On the surface, that was simple. If Jim rejected his senses, he rejected Blair. Didn't the man know he was a great cop under any circumstance, with or without Jim? Unorthodox perhaps. Not the typical law enforcement type, but a valued asset in every sense of the word. Unfortunately, it was a dead end. For all his apparent openness, Sandburg kept the things that really mattered to him veiled and private. Simon had no insight into how Blair would reason through this.

Ellison. He hadn't seen Jim act like this since he transferred from Vice. The guy with the bad attitude and the goatee - Simon remembered it well. Vice. Something in Simon's head clicked. Jim was an achiever; in the military, at the police academy, at the PD. Simon had seen his personnel file. Jim was an honor student practically back to preschool, a standout high school athlete. He was a man used to success.

The real exception was his time in Vice. Jim couldn't please them, no matter what his arrest record was. Every little slight and Ellison lashed out, that had been the word when Simon got him on transfer. His coworkers in Vice were glad to see him go.

Simon had recognized the attitude way back then as a reaction. Jim was angry, no, make that furious with how things were turning out. If he hadn't transferred, he probably would have gotten fired. Belatedly, he realized the Jim Ellison on parade this evening hadn't been pre-Sandburg, he'd been pre-Jack Pendergrast.

Simon pulled a quilt over his tired body. Maybe that gave him a place to start, if he could ever find them.

*****

"Captain, it's Henry Brown."

Simon groped at the clock and swore under his breath. Three in the morning. He was not a happy man.

"Brown, if this is your idea of a joke, you won't get a week of the night shift with your partner, I'll make it a month. I'll make it a lifetime. This had better be good."

"Captain, remember Albert Foresmann, the mob guy we extradited to Michigan?"

Simon was still trying to clear his sleep-fogged brain. "Ellison and Sandburg's case? Yeah. Why do we need to talk about this now?"

"Because, we've been working the waterfront. All our snitches are bringing us the same word, voluntarily. Foresmann is out, and he's looking for Ellison and Sandburg."

"He can't be out," Simon answered in disbelief, waking up at record speed. "He's in maximum security. They would have alerted us to some change in his status." Simon didn't feel sleepy now. Foresmann was a stone cold killer who employed a legion of other killers. To say he was dangerous was like calling Godzilla the Easter Bunny. He'd been thrilled to send him to Michigan. Even the State Penitentiary at Walla Walla was too close for the likes of Foresmann.

"This wouldn't be the first interstate screw-up, Captain. Anyway, it's scary. Even the crooks like Sandburg in spite of themselves, and they're warning us off. I think it's legit. Anyway, we went by the loft, even though it's the middle of the night, to give them the heads-up. We can't raise anyone. We stopped short of breaking the door down. We're worried."

Simon grabbed for his pants, trying to dress while continuing the conversation. "Where are you now?"

"At the station, trying to get someone in Michigan to confirm."

"Do it. I have a key to the loft. I'll call you from there."

Simon ran the sirens clear across town. When he got to 852 Prospect, Jim's truck was in the lot, increasing his worry that Foresmann had already made a move. Ignoring the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time. He had to steady his hand as he fumbled for the lock. Jim would never have slept through the racket of the siren, much less someone beating on the door.

He pulled his revolver and cautiously pushed the door open. The loft was dark and still, but he thought he could hear breathing from Jim's sleeping area on the second level. He hit the lights. "Sandburg? Ellison?" He eased inside. "Jim?!" No answer.

Blair's room was empty. That didn't really surprise him. When he found Jim sprawled on the bed, he pulled up, both relieved and shocked.

Jim was wearing headphones. In fact, he'd used a bandanna to tie them securely while he slept. A discarded package on the spread told Simon he had foam earplugs in as well. He was wearing a shade over his eyes. His clothes were still damp, apparently from perspiration.

Simon holstered his gun. He touched Jim lightly, without response. In his experience, it would have been more than enough to rouse his detective. He tried again, finally shaking Jim hard before he got even a groan.

Jim awkwardly shoved the eye shade away, then the headphones and earplugs. "What are you doing here, Simon?" he started in angrily. "You don't have any right..."

"Shut up, Jim. Foresmann's out. Where's Sandburg?"

Jim was out of bed in a heartbeat. "Foresmann? He's in Michigan."

"Maybe not. Word on the street is he's asking for you and your partner, and he's not picky about delivery. Brown and Rafe heard the rumors and came by to warn you. You didn't answer; they called me." Simon looked sternly at the bedraggled figure. "What happened to you? Where's Sandburg?"

"I don't know." Jim looked completely disoriented. "I'll get some clothes."

"Take two minutes and catch a shower. It will wake you up. Brown and Rafe are already trying to track this from Michigan. If you're okay, it's Sandburg I'm worried about." He followed Jim as the detective stumbled down the stairs. "He didn't come home, I take it."

"No." Jim shook his head. "Check his room, Simon. I'll be right out,"

With the shower running in the background, Simon wondered how he was supposed to conclude anything from the state of this room. It was like trying to guess if something was missing from a flea market. He rooted around a little. The laptop and backpack were there, but Sandburg didn't carry them all the time these days. Would he have taken them if his plan was to leave for good? The drawers seemed full. Simon located an address book. Would he have come back for that, at least? He realized Jim was now standing behind him.

Jim nodded at the address book. "We can start calling, if necessary. I don't know where he'd go, Simon." He stood silent with his shoulders slumped. "If Foresmann's on the hunt, we need to pull out all the stops. He has more eyes and ears than we do, especially if the price is high enough." He paused in thought. "Is the Volvo outside?" Simon nodded. That was out as a means of tracing their errant detective, who officially wasn't a detective anymore.

"Can we put out an APB?" Jim questioned. "We don't have to hassle legality here, do we, Simon?"

"We might. Get his bank account information and his credit card numbers. I'll make some calls while you look."

*****

Blair woke up with an aching neck and a fever. Damn, he didn't even have an aspirin on him. Talk about lousy luck.

He rolled over and studied the ceiling, trying to sort out his priorities. His late night foray to the PD for a phone had been successful. John Keily had been happy to hear from him. There was always work to be done at the vineyard, and all of John's kids were busy being yuppies on the East Coast. A bus ticket to California would be no problem. He could even fly if he went to Seattle and found a cheap ticket.

The laptop would be handy right now, but he had no intention of going back to the loft. Time to take a lesson from Naomi. Physical possessions were just a drag, locking you into an old life. When you were ready to move on, you didn't really need any of it. He had enough cash to buy what he needed in California.

There was no rush. They'd agreed on the first of next week. Blair snuggled back under the blanket. The hostel was cheap. He could stay a day or two, get some extra rest and beat any stupid cold before it had a chance.

As he closed his eyes, he pushed aside any images of Jim. If Jim didn't see by now that Sentinel-Guide-partner-friend-roommate were all intertwined and inseparable, he was never going to get it. Detach with love. He imagined row upon row of grapevines, green against the California gold instead.

*****

Jim was breaking the law. He was violating his roommate's privacy. He didn't care.

"Yes. Yes, this is Blair Sandburg." He repeated the account number. "Right." He scribbled the information on a scrap of paper. "No, I don't need to change the pin number. This was just a precaution. Yes. Thank you."

He waited for Simon to get off the other line. "He maxed his credit card at an ATM." He checked the address. "It's near your place. He got eight hundred dollars in cash. He may have used his checkbook, but the night deposits haven't all been processed."

"So credit card transactions are out as a means of finding him." Simon looked at the clock. Let's run by the ATM on the way to the station. It's a long shot, but maybe you can pick something up with your senses."

"No." Jim answered flatly.

Simon was ready to lose his temper. "Get over it, Ellison. This could be life and death. Whatever you want to work out with Sandburg is secondary to finding him."

"I turned them off, Simon."

Simon's control unraveled. "Well, then turn them back on, damn it. I mean it, Jim. You overreacted last night. Sandburg's life is more important than a tantrum over a promotion."

"It's not an option. I can't change what I did." Jim's face was nearly emotionless.

Simon figured it was better to have this conversation here than in his office. "Just exactly what did you do, Jim?"

I can't really explain it, sir, but part of the whole Sentinel package is accepting who you are. That's the Readers' Digest version, not Sandburg speak. Doesn't really matter - it barely makes sense in any language." He shrugged.

"So what does nearly running yourself to death have to do with your senses," Simon challenged. "Excuse me, Jim, but it just sounds stubborn and selfish to me."

"I put myself in a particular state of mind and turned them off. They're gone. The promotion review board got their wish. I'm nothing special right now. We're stuck with plain old police work." Sadness flickered across his face, and then the mask was firmly back in place. "Don't you think we should get to the station, sir?"

"All right, Jim. We'll do it your way for now."

*****

Simon looked grimly around his bullpen. Someone from the outside might justifiably complain that this was a terrible misallocation of taxpayer dollars. He'd let them know when he cared.

Rafe and Brown were back out on the street, trying to track down Foresmann before he could kill two of Cascade's finest.

Chief Warren had appropriated Simon's office and was on the phone, yelling at every public official in Michigan he could find. The long distance phone bills would be a line item in the next budget.

Megan was calling every name in Sandburg's address book. She'd set up shop with Rhonda in one of the conference rooms. A white board was slowly disappearing as they filled it with intertwining notes. After all, what was a little more long distance at this point? The last time he'd checked with his Australian inspector, she was swearing at 'Sandy' for knowing everyone in North America.

Jim was - gone. Backtracking from the ATM, he'd gone to every establishment within five blocks that was open at the time of the withdrawal from the ATM. He'd then contacted every individual on shift until he found a kid at Taco Time that thought he had seen Blair. The kid said he'd hopped a bus, but didn't know which one.

Jim was repeating the performance down at Metro. The bus drivers rousted from their beds were not happy. Their supervisors were not happy. Simon had already gotten three calls of complaint, and it wasn't even noon yet.

There was no point trying to put someone with Jim, or slow him down. He was in no mood for logic. The fact that he was as much as a target for Foresmann seemed to escape him. As he crisscrossed town, leaving havoc in his wake, Joel came to the rescue. He left Ellison alone, but tailed him in his car from place to place. At least Jim would have immediate backup if something went down.

Simon put out discreet feelers all over the building. Had Sandburg been in last night? Where, and when? They'd put out an APB on Sandburg, and contacted every form of public transportation out of Cascade. All the watch commanders at every precinct were putting out the word on Foresmann.

It was a great plan, but they still couldn't find Sandburg. Simon hoped to God Foresmann hadn't already located his long-haired detective.

Not all that far away from the frantic activity at the Cascade PD, there was plenty of traffic in and out of the Hostel. Since Blair had paid for several days, no one took any notice of the fact that the door to his 3^rd floor room never opened. Inside, Blair continued to sleep far into the afternoon.

*****

When he finally opened his eyes, it took Blair a moment to remember where he was and why. Every inch of Blair's body ached, and his shirt and boxers were soaked with sweat. He forced himself up to a sitting position, and fought down the dizziness. He coughed, surprised at how congested he was. Well, if he was going to be sick, he'd better get some aspirin and such. Maybe some juice and a few snacks in case he didn't feel like going out to eat.

He took the back exit out of the Hostel. It was longer walk, but there was a little grocery store tucked between the buildings, outside of the true commercial heart of Cascade. It would have what he wanted, but more importantly, it was in the opposite direction from the Station, which was also nearby. Blair didn't have the energy to run into anyone he knew right now.

He loaded up with orange juice, bottled water, energy bars, crackers, and some fresh fruit. He even sprang for some Jell-O that was horribly over-packaged and against his environmental ethics. Something cold and sweet sounded good, so he bought it anyway. Despite his congestion, he skipped the cold medicines and selected Vicks instead. He didn't have to worry about a Sentinel's sense of smell at this point.

Don't go there, he chided himself. Just get well and go to California. It was a nice speech, but he missed Jim. He was full of doubts. Would he have been fine just being Jim's friend, without the Sentinel stuff? Probably, but he doubted Jim felt the same way. Maybe it was wrong to split on the basis of what he thought would happen, rather than give Jim a chance. Detach with love and avoid the pain. In all honesty, that sounded more like Naomi, the never committed, than the way he pictured himself.

He tried to be pleasant with the clerk, but he felt lousy. On his way out of the store, he opened up the aspirin and swallowed two tablets dry. It seemed like a long way back to the Hostel. He focused all his energy on the trek back.

He certainly didn't notice that he was being observed, or that his appearance was being compared to a detailed description. He never thought to look behind to see that he was being followed. By the time the phone call was made and payment arranged for services rendered, he was back in his room.

*****

He was downtown. Jim was sure of it. The bus driver vaguely remembered dropping a young man off last night. The bus had been empty, and he'd had few passengers.

The same drivers he had talked to were on duty all night, so if Blair had come downtown, he apparently hadn't left, at least by bus. That was assuming a lot. He could have called a friend, gotten a ride. If that were the case, he was untraceable unless Megan got lucky with the phone calls. Rather than give up, Jim opted to continue as if Blair was still in Cascade proper. Okay, so where would he go?

Jim crossed the big hotels off his list, at least initially. Eight hundred dollars wouldn't go very far at a minimum of ninety dollars a night. It had to be one of the places that was cheaper, out on the fringes, where the fashionable downtown areas bled into the blighted neighborhoods on the north and northeast.

He should check in with Simon. See if they had a lead on Foresmann. Jim headed back toward the station. Maybe he'd buy Joel a coffee. The poor guy had to be sick of following him around in his car all day.

*****

"It's about time you checked in," Simon growled. "We are not going back to the Lone Ranger days, Ellison. I won't have it."

"Sir, could we argue about this later? I've tracked Blair downtown, I think. I'm going to go back out, as soon as we're done here."

Simon looked over Jim's head. "Then Joel's going with you." He brushed Jim's protests aside. "This is not up for negotiation, Detective. You need someone to watch your back, and Joel's it."

Jim glowered in silence. He wasn't ready to be insubordinate. He had plenty of time to do that when he had Sandburg out of the line of fire.

Simon motioned both Ellison and Taggart to take a seat. "Megan had a hit. Blair's made arrangements to go to California, but he's not supposed to arrive until next week. She talked with a John Keily, apparently an old acquaintance from Sandburg's childhood. He was cooperative, and when Megan explained that it was for Sandburg's protection, he promised to let Blair know how things stand."

"He didn't know how Blair was traveling, Simon?" Joel asked.

Simon tossed that file onto his desk. "He said he didn't. We've put a flag on tickets to California purchased in Sandburg's name from Cascade, Seattle and Portland. They'll detain him long enough for us to talk with him."

"She didn't have any luck closer to home?" Jim asked. Even as he asked the question, he knew why. Blair's world had been spiraling steadily inward ever since they had met. Jim's world had become his world. So how did they end up shouting at each other, each declaring the other guilty of deserting the partnership? Another topic Jim pushed aside to deal with later. All he cared about right now was finding Blair.

Simon shook his head. "Brown and Rafe haven't had any luck locating Foresmann. They're sure he's here. I'm sure it's a comfort to you that Michigan is very apologetic over this administrative glitch."

"I'm touched," Jim commented sarcastically. "Is that it, Sir? I'd like to get back on the streets again."

Simon glared. He had no intention of letting Jim evaporate. "I'll allow it, but only if I have a call from you every hour on the hour, and Joel is with you."

He didn't even get a response. Jim just walked out, his thoughts already absorbed with how to direct his search.

*****

Blair tossed in his sleep. At first, he'd awakened frequently from his uneasy rest, forcing himself to down at least some juice or water before drifting off again. His chest hurt. Bouts of coughing never seemed to end.

Now he no longer woke. His fever crept up bit by bit with each passing hour.

*****

Jim and Joel worked their way methodically through Cascade's downtown. It was slow going. Jim insisted on stopping at every possible spot Sandburg might go to. He didn't want to go back over his tracks once he'd cleared an area. Joel didn't say much. Although Jim was totally focused on the task at hand, he appreciated the big man's quiet support.

Jim wasn't surprised when the question finally came. They were held up briefly, waiting for the pedestrian light to change. "Jim, tell me what happened. Simon didn't say, but he doesn't have to."

Jim wanted to bark back, tell him to mind his own business. Even in his current foul temper, he held himself back. Joel's brown eyes held nothing but concern. He didn't deserve to be blasted. "I can't really talk about it, Joel. We had words. It's...pretty personal, you know?"

"I can guess. It's about you being a Sentinel." He laid a gentle hand on Jim's shoulder when Jim stared at him in shock. "I work with you and Sandburg too closely, and so do Megan, Rafe and Brown. We don't talk about it, if that's what you're worried about. Once we had the suggestion, too many pieces fell into place." Joel nudged him. "The light's changed." They walked into the intersection.

"I don't know what to say. I - we thought..."

"God Almighty, Jim, as if we can't understand the need to keep this under wraps? We're like family in Major Crime. So why would any of us upset the apple cart? So you tell me. Why did Sandburg take off, and why does Simon have his shield sitting in his desk drawer?" He shrugged at Jim's shocked look. "Sometimes you forget the rest of us are detectives, too, Ellison."

"The promotion board - Simon wasn't supposed to talk about it. I can't say anymore."

"Well, I've been on that promotion board, Jim. I can put it together. I take it you got your pride wounded."

"This isn't about pride, Joel," Jim retorted hotly. "It's about...about."

"Pride," Joel finished. The two men had stopped. Jim felt sick.

"It's human to want to be recognized, Jim, but there's always a price. Look at Simon. He made Captain young, and he's African American. He had every right to be proud of accomplishing that, but if you asked him now, he'd tell you this. That the price of his pride was his marriage, and the relationship with his son. It's a bitter trade." Joel started walking. "You might want to consider that."

*****

Ten blocks away, money changed hands. Albert Foresmann settled back into the leather seat of his Cadillac and sent his shock troops in. Before the night was out, he'd have Sandburg and he'd take his revenge. He chuckled, savoring the moment. He'd been smart enough to get out of Michigan, and he was certainly smart enough to track down a cop. Ellison would come later, but he wanted the detective to know that his partner died in pain. Terrible, excruciating pain.

Foresmann's men had the building, but they didn't have the room. They drifted through the common areas, looking over the occupants. Unsuccessful, they began to work the halls. They would find him.

*****

Jim leaned with his back against the cold brick. The street was deserted except for Joel. Joel Taggart, the man who had just stripped away all his pretenses.

"The sentinel stuff doesn't matter any more," Jim whispered. "The senses, they're gone. I'm not a Sentinel anymore."

Again Joel gave him that sympathetic smile. "Remember when I lost my nerve, after Brackett's bomb? Blair kept saying to me, 'It's not about you'. I think that's good advice. It's never about any one of us as an individual. You might put it in that context."

He walked away from Jim, hoping to give the man a few moments to collect himself. It was then he saw the car. Watched as the window lowered, and men came to speak to someone in the back seat. He could see a hand just peeking from the window, gesturing, giving directions. He quickly retreated back to Jim's side.

"Jim, that car. I think it's Foresmann." He pulled the other detective under cover in the next alley. "Watch," he hissed. "I think they're searching."

As a stakeout, it was brief. Jim had to agree. "He's got to be close. We need to find Sandburg before they do."

"We need to call for backup." Joel was already pulling out his phone, dialing Simon's number.

"No!" Jim batted his hand away from the phone. "If we flood this area with cops, that will tip them off for sure. If they're close to Sandburg, trying to take him alive, they might just kill him and be done with it. What's close by, Joel? Where would he be?"

"You can find him, Jim. Use your gift."

"I told you, Joel, I can't." Jim fumbled for an explanation. Another two men checked in at the car and headed up the block. They had to be closing in.

"This is not about you." Joel said firmly. "You can."

Jim closed his eyes. Joel just didn't understand. No one understood. Not Simon. Not Blair. He couldn't do it anymore.

Foresmann was going to find Sandburg, if Jim couldn't find him first. Blair was going to die.

Jim tried to dial up his hearing. Nothing happened.

Joel was by side. "This is not about you," he whispered. "This is not about you."

Jim let his hearing follow those words, echoing through the alley. He heard a trashcan scrape, then an argument between a girl and her boyfriend. He heard a bunch of college kids talking about ordering a pizza. He pushed past.

"Check the rooms at the end of the hall. The boss is getting impatient."

"That way Joel! One, maybe two streets over." They ran, careful to avoid the car and its occupant.

"The youth hostel! Would he go there, Jim?" Joel asked. Jim nodded. That had to be it. They ducked under cover in a doorway. "Try again. You can find him."

"I need to get closer."

"Then we get closer. Take the back entrance," Joel gestured. "Go. I'll be right behind."

Hidden in the stairwell, Jim tried again, searching desperately for a voice. Floor by floor, room by room. So many conflicting sounds to sort out. His control wavered.

"Go up," Joel urged him. "Go up and try again."

They did. One floor, then another. Jim could hear the sounds of the search. He was running out of time.

On the third floor landing, he leaned against the cinderblock wall. His eyes widened. "Joel! Call Simon! He's here, on this floor."

It was the last room, on the end. Jim knocked frantically. They were coming. "Sandburg! Sandburg, answer me!" He could hear the elevator at the end of the hallway, creaking to a stop. He broke the door in. Joel was right behind him.

The air was heavy, full of sickness. Jim reached for his partner. The heat pouring off him burned his touch. He tried to rouse him, to no avail.

Joel pulled his service revolver, and tossed Jim the phone. "Call Simon again. They're on their way. In the meantime, no one's getting in this room."

****

Jim stroked Blair's hand. He was asleep now, but Jim didn't want to go upstairs. Sandburg was only home, here in the loft, because he was too sick to get on a plane, and the only alternative was the hospital. Great, Ellison, you're one step above Cascade General, which in Sandburg's book is as close to hell as the living dare come.

They'd had to let most of Foresmann's hired muscle go, but the man himself was sitting in a cell in the basement of the PD. He could go back to being Michigan's problem as soon as they could get him on the next prison transport. For now, he was going to spend an interesting night in isolation, shackled to the bed.

Jim had spent long hours after the roundup at the hospital, waiting for a chance to plead his case with Sandburg. Simon and Joel had shown up and appropriated one of the conference rooms, figuring Jim couldn't take off while his partner was still being treated. They'd asked a lot of questions Jim didn't want to answer. Why was this promotion such a big deal? Why lash out at Sandburg? Self-examination was not an Ellison strong point. By the time Jim finally got to Blair, he'd been thoroughly dissected by the two senior officers, and he wasn't very happy with himself.

Jim gently adjusted the blanket, covering a little more of Blair's shoulder. What was he going to say when Sandburg woke up? Did he really understand it himself? Could he convince him to stay?"

He didn't know. He thought about Joel, gently prodding him over the edge of doubt and denial. The words resonated in his head. This is not about you. This is not about you.

He checked Blair's brow again, noting another minute drop in the younger man's temperature. The raspy lungs seemed a little less labored.

He would stay for hours, watching and waiting. By the time dawn's light streaked the sky, Jim Ellison finally knew what he would say.

I think I get it, Chief. It's about us.

The end