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.

Summary: Blair is faced with a critical choice. Set in the GDP universe.

Author's Note: Sometimes a story doesn't follow the script you intend. This began as a joint effort with Susan Foster, who so graciously shares the universe she created. She suggested the original premise, we agreed, and I went to work on the beginning of the story.

Problem was, I loved the concept and hated what I'd written. I'd put it away, take it out again, write some more, and I'd still hate it. I was too embarrassed to send it back to Susan. After months of rejecting it on my end, and after some timely suggestions from writers who are a lot better than I am, it seemed to fall into place. To my dismay, I realized the story was essentially finished, and Susan had never seen it. Nearly a year had gone by. I sent it back to Susan, with my apologies. What to do? We decided to go with the story as it is.

I'm grateful to Susan for her understanding. I know I've lost track of some of the people who gave significant advice and help, so I hope they forgive me. I'd like to extend a special thanks to Lyn for doing a thorough beta job on such a long story. She had a lot of my errors to catch. If there's anything else wrong, blame me.

 

HOPE STILL LIVES
By Jael Lyn
February 2004

The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dreams shall never die.
---- Edward Kennedy

Jim Ellison pulled into the nearest parking place and checked his watch. He was running behind, or fashionably late, as his ex-wife would have once told him. A busy day at Major Crime had seen to that. After the late start, he'd lost a little more time deciphering Edward's street directions, combined with a quick stop at the grocery. He never had been comfortable arriving at someone's home empty-handed, and tonight was no exception. In the few months since Edwards had transferred to Major Crime, the two men had become close friends. They'd discovered they had a lot in common, including a blossoming friendship between their guides. Jim felt a pang at the thought of Blair. Social outings were few and far between. His guide would have enjoyed this.

Jim checked his purchases before sliding out into the notorious Cascade drizzle. He'd chosen a few snacks, a good bottle of wine for the two sentinels, and a sparkling cider that Blair liked, making the assumption that David's tastes would be similar. He would have added a dessert or French bread, but hated to mess up any plans his hosts had made. As he made his way up into the courtyard of Edwards' building, he located the correct number and made a quick scan. Both sentinel and guide were home, and Edwards was apparently watching the Jags game. It was no surprise when Edwards greeted him before he reached the door. Every sentinel he knew usually responded before a visitor got close enough to knock.

"Hey, Jim," Edwards said, taking Jim's coat. They had long since dispensed with more formal address when off-duty. He nodded toward the grocery bag. "You didn't need to bring anything."

Jim smiled. "I wanted to. David's just as bad about junk food at Blair is." He passed the goodies on to Edwards. "Did I choose the right wine?"

Edward's checked the label as they walked into the spacious living room. "You bet. It's perfect. Just the beer would have been plenty," he added, looking at the carrier still in Jim's hand. "You're a man after my own heart. Grab a couple and I'll put the rest of this in the kitchen."

Jim scented the air, which was laden with the aroma of roasting meat. "I'm assuming David's cooking, or we'd be eating take-out."

"You'd assume right," Edwards answered with a laugh. "I promise, that roast he's making is way better than any take-out."

"Where is the chef of the evening?" Jim asked, not seeing or sensing David anywhere on the first floor.

"He was fussing over the meal, and it was making me crazy. The idea of having the Senior Sentinel Prime to dinner makes him nervous. I sent him off to work on his latest creation. If you keep your voice down, maybe we won't disturb him." He motioned for Jim to sit, and accepted a beer gratefully. They settled comfortably for a moment, nominally watching the Jags, but Edwards suddenly bounded off the couch. "Hey, since David's not here, I want to show you something." He grabbed a picture frame off a nearby bookcase. "Take a look at this."

Jim gasped. He set the beer on the coffee table to take a closer look. The pen and ink drawing of Edwards and David fairly leaped out of the frame. "That's David's work?" Jim set the picture carefully on a nearby table. "That's amazing. This is his first class, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Edwards said, with a clear note of pride in his voice. "All these years together, and I had no idea what kind of talent he had."

Jim hesitated, and then asked the question anyway. "Don't take this wrong, but do they know? That he's a guide."

Edwards nodded. "I know exactly what you're asking, and the answer is yes and no. His instructor - yes, the institution - no. After everything Blair's gone through getting started at Rainier, I didn't want it to go badly. I spoke with the instructor before David attended the first class. He agreed to treat him like any other student, and David's status is confidential. We followed Blair's advice. He's auditing, so we didn't have to fill out a lot of paperwork. Did you know I went with him for the first few classes?"

"No," Jim answered. "Excuse me, but how did you pull that off? You must fit into an art class about as well as I would."

"Yeah, you got that right. Since everything seemed fine, I don't go any more. Between you and me, I just couldn't handle it."

"Couldn't handle what?" Jim asked. The thought of Edwards, the former Marine, bailing on anything didn't seem possible.

"Damn, Jim, they started having nude models for figure drawing. I can't take the embarrassment." Jim promptly choked on his beer. "You have no idea how unnerving an hour or so of naked is," Edwards scolded. "Don't act so superior. I've seen you squirm when Sandburg takes off on some weird tribal custom or other. You wouldn't do it either." Both men laughed. "And I'll let you in on a secret. The college is having a public showing of student work, and David was asked to be in it."

"Are you going to allow it?" Jim asked cautiously, hoping he'd phrased the question correctly. Despite the current drift toward reform, the majority of sentinels made decisions, major and minor, for their guides. To imply otherwise could be potentially insulting.

"It took me back for a bit. All that conditioning about what's appropriate for a guide kicked in, even though I don't even believe that crap anymore. Look at Blair, for God's sake. I said 'yes', and I'm glad I did. He'll just exhibit under his initials or something, instead of his full name. Just to maintain his cover. I don't think he's ready for a bunch of cheap 'keep the guide in his place' criticism."

Jim nodded in agreement, grinning. "Here we go again, breaking all the rules. The GDP must have a dartboard with our pictures on it. Between them, Blair and David are living testimonies to why we shouldn't be shunting empaths off to Guide College."

"David didn't even get that much," Edwards said ruefully. "His empathic abilities were pretty exceptional. He was barely eighteen, still in high school, when they sent him to his first mixer and we met. You know firsthand how the Army is, and the Marines aren't any different. They want the best, and when they find it, they don't mess around. They arranged our bonding, sent us through intensive training, and we shipped out to active duty before his senior class even graduated."

"I didn't know that," Jim commented quietly.

"I guess I never really thought about it at the time. David was always the perfect guide; conscious of protocol, loyal, obedient. He never complained or seemed sad. Looking back on it, he must have been crushed. He never really had a chance to grow up." Edwards picked up the drawing in its glossy black frame, studying the picture. "I regret it now. Look at this - all that untapped potential. I'm glad Blair spoke up and suggested letting him pursue his art. I've never seen David happier."

"So you did the right thing when you had the chance. Maybe that's what counts. Even if you had known, the Marines wouldn't have allowed David to be trained any differently."

"Isn't that the truth?" Edwards returned the drawing to its original spot on the shelf. "I don't know, Jim, I'm really questioning the wisdom of training empaths only with an eye to serving their sentinels. I feel like I'm relearning all the rules from scratch."

"That makes two of us," Jim replied, raising his bottle in a toast. "Breaking new ground all the way."

"Our Guide Prime couldn't get away, huh?" Edwards asked.

Jim shook his head. "He has an afternoon seminar on Tuesdays, which we could have worked around. He called right before he went to class and said he had to teach an evening session for another TA. Some kind of emergency."

"We can make up a plate for him, or hold dinner until he's done. When does he finish?"

"Seven to ten. The class only meets twice a week."

Edwards gave a low whistle. "That's an awfully long day. You're worried about him aren't you? His barriers must be crashing. They'd have to be." Jim nodded. "Look, its only dinner, Jim. We can reschedule. Get over there."

"I offered, but Blair asked me not to. Surviving on his own at Rainier is so important to him. Besides, he says I scare the kids. I guess having me lurking in the back of the classroom doesn't make for good discussion."

Edwards snickered. "A nice, laid-back guy like you is intimidating? Nah, can't be." His smile faded. "That's not all, is it?"

"No," Jim said evenly. He trusted Edwards, but he found the discussion difficult. "He's so determined, but I'm afraid it's too much. He works like a fiend, doesn't get enough down time, and the hassles don't ever seem to stop."

"Those GDP bastards aren't still leashing him, are they?" Edwards' voice rose in anger. The two sentinels had been together when an overzealous GDP officer had left Blair leashed for hours. "I swear, after what I saw, and what David has repeated to me, we ought to both go over there and clean house."

Jim sighed. "I wish it were that simple. We get one thing solved, and something else crops up. David's with you all the time. I envy you that. You can protect him, shield him. It's the daily separation that makes Blair so vulnerable. One day it's a disrespectful student. The next day, his photocopies disappear from the Anthro office. He even had to drop a class because the professor basically told him anything he turned in would be marked 'Failing', no matter what he did."

"I assume you dealt with that one?" Edwards said grimly.

"I did, up close and personal. Please don't repeat that, either. Blair doesn't know, and he'd be upset if he did. It gave me great satisfaction, but in the long run, it only calls attention to his status as a guide, and makes matters worse." Jim studied the label on his beer as if it would provide the answers he needed. "He copes, but it's exhausting him."

"What are you going to do?" Edwards asked.

"I wish I knew. With your permission, I'd like to discuss it with David. He and Blair are friends. Maybe he can suggest some ideas from a guide's point of view," Jim asked. Inwardly, he was cringing. It was a huge breach of normal protocol to suggest such a personal discussion with someone else's guide.

"Of course. Finish your beer and try not to worry. It'll be halftime soon, and we can consider the options over dinner. We'll think of something."

Jim leaned back to relax and watch the game, wishing he could match Edwards' optimism.

&&&&&

Blair looked at the phone on his desk and willed himself not to dial Jim's number. He was determined not to interrupt Jim's evening, or, more importantly, admit that he couldn't make it through the day. It was an expectation that Teaching Fellows and Assistants covered each other's classes when necessary. Because of his guide status, he could easily have asked to be excused, but he hadn't. He was fairly sure that the request to cover had originated from Dr. Manning. He probably would have been delighted if Blair had declined to teach tonight, or needed to end class early. Dr. Manning never missed an opportunity to note his shortcomings. Blair was determined to see the evening through, no matter what.

They'd completed the first hour, and Blair had given the class a ten minute break. It was customary in a three hour session. Right now, he needed it more than the students. The class was giving him a tough time. Night college students at Rainier were a totally different population, and several individuals had made it clear with their rude behavior they knew Blair was a working guide and didn't appreciate it. He'd dashed to his office and spent five minutes of his short break sitting in total stillness, trying to reestablish his fraying barriers. The break had passed quickly, and now it was time to head back.

He gulped the last of an energy bar and drained the tea in his mug. Hopefully, the caffeine would kick in. "You can do this, Blair," he told himself. "Don't be a wimp."

&&&&&

"David, that was fantastic," Jim said with a sigh. "I wish Blair could have been here."

"So do I," David answered. "I sliced some of the roast off, and made him a sandwich before we sat down. Maybe you can coax him to eat before he goes to bed."

"I appreciate that, David, and so will Blair. Thank you."

"We're still waiting for your thoughts on Blair's situation," Edwards said gently. "We're not letting you off the hook."

David looked apprehensively at the two sentinel primes. As a guide, he wasn't accustomed to being included at the table during a company dinner, much less having his ideas actively solicited.

"Come on, David," his own sentinel said, trying to encourage him. "We asked. We're not going to bite."

"I'm not sure what I can tell you," David said hesitantly, fumbling with a napkin. "Blair's situation is so unique. He's very strong, and he maintains his barriers much better than I do already."

"Maintains at a cost," Jim said firmly. "Blair doesn't always ask for what he needs. As a fellow guide, make a guess."

"Well, proximity helps, but you already know that," David said. "I guess - maybe - "

"David, quit beating around the bush," Edwards said sharply. David tensed at the tone of his sentinel's voice, and Edwards smiled to reassure him. "I just meant you can be honest," he added in a much softer voice. "Don't hesitate because of protocol. Sentinel Ellison wouldn't ask if he didn't think you could help."

"I - I'm sorry, Sentinel. Please accept my apology." David lowered his head and went silent. In another moment, he'd be on his knees.

"David, don't apologize," Jim said quickly, trying to reassure him. If it had been Blair, he would have reached out to touch him, but you just didn't do that with another sentinel's guide. "I know this is making you uncomfortable. Please, just try, for Blair's sake."

Okay," David said slowly. He eyes were riveted on Edwards, watching carefully for the signal to stop. "After we left the Marines, it was really hard for me. In the service, we were by ourselves a lot. It was easier to make physical contact, and that strengthens your barriers automatically. At the police department, it was so public. I had to maintain more of a distance to be appropriate. You're always meeting new people. Even with people you know, so many of them are hostile, it beats you down. Since we moved to Major Crime, people are more understanding, and I feel less - separated." His eyes never strayed from Edwards, conscious of the implied criticism. Before associating with Ellison, his sentinel had always insisted on complete privacy for anything connected with bonding. He leaned closer to his sentinel and lowered his eyes, silently asking to be pardoned.

"David's correct," Edwards said, patting his guide's shoulder in reassurance. "In civilian life, I was uncomfortable, too. I was more worried about what other people thought than whether it was difficult for my guide." He lightly stroked the back of David's neck. "It's okay, David. I'm still adjusting. Lunch helps, though, doesn't it?"

David nodded with a wide smile. "Oh, yeah. Maybe that would help Blair, Sentinel Ellison."

"What would help?" Jim asked, knowing he'd lost the thread of what had momentarily become a private interchange.

Edwards explained. "Now that we work downtown, I found a great little café close to headquarters. They hold a booth for us; very secluded and private. We can squeeze in and David can soak up whatever he needs, away from prying eyes and all the turmoil of the station. Unless we get called out for an emergency, I've made it a daily priority."

"It really rebuilds my barriers, and settles me for the afternoon. You meet Blair for lunch sometimes, don't you?" David asked.

Jim considered that. "Usually he just runs over to the PD as soon as he finishes, and we eat on the run. Blair's tries to cram so much into the day. He's always getting delayed and then races madly to catch up. Every now and then, I can tell he's struggling and I drag him off to the Sentinel Suite. You probably know he hates going to the Suite unless it's really necessary."

"It's worth a try, Jim," Edwards said. "Simon's a very sentinel savvy boss. He would understand the need to block out some time in the middle of the day, for Blair's sake."

"You could meet him at his office," David suggested, his eyes twinkling. "Somehow I think people would hesitate to sidetrack him with the Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade looming in the doorway." All three men chuckled at the gentle joke.

Jim checked his watch. "Blair's class should be finishing up soon. He never leaves until he's answered every last question. Why don't I go do some of that 'looming' and hustle his butt along. Thanks for the dinner, and for the suggestions. I'll talk to Blair."

They said their goodbyes. David immediately went to clean up the kitchen, but Edwards intercepted him. "We can clean tomorrow. Come sit down." Sentinel and guide relaxed on the couch, and David leaned ever-so-slightly into Edward's chest. "You were right to speak freely, David. I'm proud of you, you know." Time swirled away as they slipped easily into the bond.

&&&&&

It was nearly ten when Jim got to Hargrove Hall. He checked Blair's office. The familiar backpack was perched on the desk, half buried in a blizzard of papers. A quick glance at Blair's appointment book gave him the number of the lecture hall his guide was using. Leaving the office, he tuned his hearing three floors above, hoping to catch a hint of Blair's voice. The general hubbub told him that class had just been dismissed, and Blair would be headed down shortly. Unsure of whether a bone-tired Blair would opt for the elevator or take the stairs, Jim waited in the hallway, trying to sort through the sounds.

It took a few minutes before he could isolate Blair's heartbeat in the throng. What he heard during the search put Jim's teeth on edge. Clearly, this had been a hostile audience. Blair was apparently waiting for the room and hallways to clear. When he finally left the lecture hall, he headed off in a direction away from the nearest elevator, no doubt to avoid any further contact.

Jim angled in the same direction, intending to meet his partner halfway. When he reached the stairwell, he could hear Blair's slow footsteps echoing above him on the marble stair treads. He was just about to call out a greeting, when a series of thuds and a shout of surprise and pain sent him pounding up the stairs, two at a time.

He found Blair sprawled at the bottom of a landing, books and papers scattered in all directions. He'd managed to roll to his side by the time Jim reached him. His glasses were a crumpled wreck, and one of the broken lenses had left a deep gash in one cheek.

Above them, Jim could clearly hear the footfalls of someone retreating in the opposite direction. For a brief moment, he wanted only to charge up the stairs in hot pursuit. No one hurt his guide and got away with it. The trickle of blood down Blair's cheek tipped the scales. His guide needed him first. Exacting vengeance would have to wait. Blair started to push himself up, and Jim quickly dropped to his knees. "Chief! Stay still buddy."

"Jim? Oh, man, this hurts." He tried to sit up again, but Jim stopped him with a gentle hand to the shoulder.

"I mean it! Stay put while I check you out." Jim's hands ghosted over his guide's body. Heat was already rising from areas that would be purple with bruises in the morning. "I don't think you broke anything, but you're sure banged up." He slowly raised Blair up and helped him lean against the corner.

"I think I missed a step at the top," Blair mumbled.

Jim made no comment, keeping his thoughts to himself. No, you didn't miss any damn step. Someone pushed you. Which is it? You didn't realize it, or you don't want to tell me? If he couldn't catch the guy, maybe it was no use bringing it up.

Blair was still talking, almost more to himself than to Jim. "I just tumbled over and over. I couldn't catch myself. Oh, no - my glasses." He picked up the mangled frames. "You just got these for me."

"Forget the glasses, Chief, how about your head?"

"Am I bleeding?" Blair asked, as his unsteady hand brushed against his face. He stared at his own bloody fingers as if he couldn't quite comprehend where the red smears had come from. "Ah, man, you must think I'm a complete idiot. Can't even get back to my office on my own."

"You worry about the dumbest things, Sandburg," Jim said sharply. He pressed a handkerchief against the still-bleeding cut. "Here, hold this, and look at me. I need to check your eyes."

"I don't have a concussion, Jim. Let's go. Just get me to my car."

"That's your expert medical opinion, huh?" Jim asked skeptically. Blair was probably right about the concussion. Of greater concern were his barriers. Even in the presence of his sentinel, his body was vibrating with tiny tremors. Jim could clearly read the signs of near overload. "How long have your barriers been shot to hell?"

Blair's eyes widened, and then he shrugged, giving up the argument before it started. Instead, he slumped against his sentinel's chest, and choked back a groan. Jim wrapped his arms around the trembling shoulders.

"Long day, huh? Let's get you home." Jim gathered his friend's possessions and helped him to his feet. This discussion would have to wait for another time, preferably at the loft under less stressful circumstances. "Wrap your arm around my waist, Chief, and we'll take it nice and easy."

"I need my stuff."

"Not tonight. You've had enough for one day. Just this once, let me make the call."

It took triple the normal time to make the short walk to the truck. Jim had no intention of letting Blair drive in his condition. Two minutes into the drive home, Blair unfastened his seat belt, scooted toward the middle of the truck, and leaned against Jim's shoulder. Jim let it go. Apparently, Blair needed physical contact with his sentinel more than the usual safety procedures. His guide's ragged breathing and uneven heartbeat told him everything he needed to know.

At the door of the loft, Jim finally spoke in crisp low tones. "Wait on the couch. I'll lock up and be right there."

"Jim, it's okay. It's late..."

"Don't argue with me. David made you a sandwich. I'll slice up some of that fresh fruit you got yesterday to go with it."

Blair started to follow him to the kitchen. "I can do the fruit. Do you want something, too?"

Jim turned so quickly Blair ran into him. "Get back in there, Sandburg. Go sit down before you fall down. You're going to eat, relax, and build up your barriers, not cook a meal. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

Blair was too tired to argue.

&&&&&

Jim scowled. A pre-dawn, rain-drenched park might be a great secluded meeting site for betraying your organized crime family, but it was a lousy place for Sandburg on this particular morning. Unfortunately, it was the sort of thing he rarely did without his guide, and Blair would have rebelled at the thought of being left behind. In true Sandburg fashion, he had downed a cup of coffee and pronounced himself "good to go", not that Jim believed him for a minute. He'd dropped into a doze three minutes away from the loft.

Well, there was no hope for it. If this went well, maybe they could grab a quick breakfast before Blair went to the University. Jim jiggled his guide's leg, gently coaxing him back to consciousness. "Time to go, Chief. You with me, sleepyhead?"

Blair blinked several times, trying to act as though he hadn't really been asleep. "Sure, Jim. No problem." He yawned, unable to stifle the reflex. "Tell me again why we're talking to this guy. I must not have been paying attention."

Jim wasn't surprised by the question. It had taken all of Blair's energy to drag his bruised and battered body out of bed. "Paul Kinnick is a lieutenant in what's left of the Lazar crime organization. He contacted me a few weeks ago, and indicated he wanted a way out. I didn't buy it at first. I put him off, but he called again this morning, without any warning. This is the first time we've met directly. He was insistent, and I don't dare put him off."

"So this could be pretty important?"

"Potentially, he could bring out some extremely useful information with him. We have the Lazar organization on the ropes; this might break them for good. I'm his only contact, so I can't shove this off on someone else." Jim gestured toward the fog-shrouded trees. "There's a fountain and gazebo over there. That's where we're supposed to meet."

Blair seemed hesitant. "Does he know I'll be there?" he asked.

"He knows I'm a sentinel." Jim dug behind the bench seat of the truck. "Here, put these gloves on and button up. You shouldn't be out in this after yesterday."

"Don't apologize for doing your job, Jim. Where you go, I go. Stop trying to coddle me." He looked back over his shoulder as he climbed out of the truck. "And you can save Lecture 27, the one about how the sentinel needs to protect the guide."

"You're impossible," Jim scolded, but he smiled as he said it. Since they were alone, he wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders, and they walked toward the trees.

"Can you hear them?" Blair asked.

Jim nodded, but frowned. "That's strange. I hear two people. I wasn't expecting anyone except Kinnick." He listened again. "One's female. She sounds young. Her name's Molly."

"Who's she?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea. Kinnick isn't married."

"Maybe a sister? Or a girlfriend?" Blair suggested.

"He's never mentioned a lady. He had two older brothers. Both were killed in the fallout after we brought the elder Lazar down. That's all the family I know about." Jim brought them to a halt. "They're right over there. I guess we'll find out. Stay behind me until we know how things are going. If I tell you to bug out, you do it, no arguments. You have the cell to call backup?"

Blair nodded, and dropped into step slightly behind Jim. The area surrounding the fountain was paved in brick. The fountain itself was not formal, but fit the natural setting. Water poured down a series of large boulders into a small pool. Just beyond it stood two figures; a man nearly as tall as Jim, and a young woman. She was bundled into a hooded raincoat and barely visible. Stretching his vision, Jim caught a glimpse of dark brown eyes and a few wisps of very dark hair. As they approached, Kinnick whispered to her and she stepped back. Jim scanned both of them with his senses, grateful for Blair's presence at his side. There was something very odd about the girl, but he couldn't quite isolate it.

Jim broke the silence. "I wasn't expecting a guest, Kinnick. You going to make the introductions?"

"This is Molly." Kinnick turned to her and said. "Okay, honey, go get out of the rain. I'll just be a minute." He said nothing until she was seated in the gazebo. He gestured angrily toward Blair. "Couldn't you have left him in your vehicle?"

"You know I'm a sentinel. Now that I have a guide, he comes with me. What else did you expect?"

"I don't want him around when we talk. Send him away."

Jim instantly bristled, but Blair smoothed the situation over. "I'll go to the gazebo. You can see me, and he can see her."

Jim looked steadily at Kinnick. "Sounds fair to me. Or do we call this whole thing off right now?"

"Do you guarantee she'll be safe around him? He is a guide, after all," Kinnick asked pointedly.

"Keep your prejudice to yourself," Jim snarled.

Blair laid a calming hand on Jim's arm. "Let it go," he murmured softly. "We'll both be in plain sight. Guide's aren't predators, sir." He started to walk toward the gazebo, willing himself not to be insulted by Kinnick's attitude.

"Damn uppity, for a guide. Get this straight, Ellison," Kinnick growled, as soon as Blair was of hearing range. "None of this touches Molly, and when I come out, so does she. I want her in witness protection. I'll testify, do anything you want, but she disappears."

"We don't have a deal yet, Kinnick. What happens depends on your information."

Kinnick shook his head adamantly. "Like I said, I'm not talking about me, only Molly. She's in no way involved with the organization, so it's not going to compromise anyone's principles to insure her safety. That's my precondition, or we never see each other again."

Jim looked quickly over at the gazebo. Blair had seated himself on the same bench with the young woman and was striking up a conversation. Kinnick was also watching, but raised no objection. Knowing Blair would fill him in on anything the woman said, Jim concentrated on the task at hand. "You understand, I'll have to confirm it," Jim said. "I can try to give you an answer by the end of the day. It might even take longer."

Kinnick's heart rate soared, even though the expression on his face never changed. He didn't like what he was hearing. "I'm not jerking you around," Jim said quietly. "I don't have the authority, and I won't make a promise I can't keep. I want you to know that up front. If I tell you something, then I'm sure of it." He held his breath. He didn't want this one to fizzle.

"Done," Kinnick finally muttered.

"Then talk to me." Together, they slipped under the cover of the huge fir trees. If someone came by, they would go completely unobserved.

&&&&&&&&

"Hi, Molly, my name's Blair."

"Hi," she answered softly, her tone disconsolate. "They sent you off like a child, too. Welcome to the club." Her eyes ran over him from head to toe. "You don't look like a cop."

"No. I'm graduate student, and I teach at Rainier. I'm also Jim's guide."

The woman's eyes snapped with hostility. "You must think I'm really stupid. Guides don't go to University, and they sure don't teach."

Blair smiled. He was willing to bet she was frightened and hurt as opposed to unkind. "Most don't, but I do. It surprises people sometimes. You look about college age. Do you attend somewhere?"

"No." The woman's hostility vanished, and she seemed very sad. "I wanted to go. I would have been a freshman. I had good grades and everything." She sighed. "It didn't work out."

"Hey, lots of people don't start college right away. What were you interested in?"

"Do you think so?" she said hopefully. "I wanted to be a fashion designer."

"Well, you'll take art classes then. One of my friends never went to college, and he's taking an art class in the evenings, at the Cascade Branch of University of Washington. You could do something like that until you can attend full time. He's a lot older than you are, and he's doing great."

"Really? Maybe Paul could..." Her voice drifted off, and she looked sad again. "Probably not. I know he's just trying to watch out for me, but sometimes it's frustrating. It isn't that I'm not grateful. After my dad died, he didn't have to take care of me."

"Are you family?" Blair asked. No sense in missing the opportunity to find out where this young woman fit into the picture.

"Technically, he was my step-dad, and Paul's my step-uncle, I guess. Paul's older brother married my mom when I was little. When my mom died, he said I'd always be his little girl. Paul's the only family I have left." Tears flooded her eyes.

"I'm sorry. It hurts to lose someone you love," Blair said gently.

She nodded in agreement. "There was a big age difference between my dad and Paul. He could have shipped me off or something. He didn't. He said if I was family to his brother, that I was family to him. Now he wants us both to leave, but I guess you already know that."

Blair didn't know anything of the sort, but that was beside the point. "That's probably why he's talking to Jim. You can trust him. He's a good man."

"Paul isn't big on police." She looked towards the trees. "What kind of an officer is he?"

"A detective in Major Crime, and a sentinel. If Paul wants his protection, he'll do anything necessary to keep you safe."

"I guess as a guide, you'd know that."

They were quiet for a little while. The mist was beginning to clear, and they could barely see the outline of the two men, deep in conversation. Blair felt the chill despite his coat. It made his strained muscles and bruises ache all the more. He was starting to drift, and Molly's next question jerked him back to reality.

"What happened to your face? Did your sentinel discipline you?"

"No. Jim would never hit me," Blair snapped, offended at the suggestion. Her eyes widened, and an explanation seemed warranted. Most people would make the same assumption. "I tripped coming down the stairs after my night class. I was wearing my glasses, and the lenses broke."

"Oh," she said. "It looks like it hurts." She hesitated. "Could I ask you something else? About being a guide?"

Coming out of the blue like that, the question might have set off all of Blair's radar. He lowered his barriers just a bit. Her emotions gave no hint of anything malicious. "Sure," he said. "I'll answer if I can."

"I didn't mean to pry," she confessed, looking embarrassed.

"It's okay. Lot's of people are curious. Sentinel 101 just tells you what the GDP wants you to hear."

"Being a guide - it's kind of like being married, isn't it?"

The question took Blair by surprise, but Molly seemed sincere, so he decided to answer. "I guess in some ways it is. We live together. We both do regular household stuff. If you mean sexually, then the answer is, 'no'. A lot of people misunderstand that. I have my own room in Jim's home. The bond between sentinel and guide is physical and emotional rather than sexual."

"Oh, I didn't mean..." Her distress came at him in waves. He decided she meant no harm. Her emotions seemed oddly intense. He must still be worn down from yesterday's marathon.

"Don't worry. I didn't take the question that way. I just thought you might want to know, since you asked about marriage." He reached out and patted her knee gently. His barriers sizzled, and he froze. Her emotional signature was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He was so shocked he almost missed her next statement.

"Ruberto Lazar wants to marry me. He's a very important man, but Paul doesn't think he'd be a good husband." She sighed. "That's why Paul says we need to leave. I don't know why we couldn't just say 'no' or something. He's a rich man. Don't you think there would be lots of girls who would want to marry him?"

Blair could imagine a few dozen reasons why it would be unhealthy to deny Ruberto Lazar anything. "Do you love him?" he asked impulsively, and then wondered if she'd be offended. She seemed to answer without any qualms. For a young woman of college age, she seemed terribly innocent.

"I hardly know him. He's older, the same age as my step-dad. I haven't really ever dated. After my mom died, my dad was my whole world. He always said eventually I'd go to college and meet someone my own age. But then I didn't go to college, and now I just don't know what to think."

Blair didn't answer. He was concentrating, trying to analyze what was so unique about this woman-child. It was a struggle. He felt so tired. He closed his eyes, trying vainly to focus. When he opened them again, Jim had come into the open and was motioning for him to come over. Molly was already saying goodbye.

"Thanks for talking to me, Blair. Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

"Bye, Molly. Take care." He waited where he was, feeling dizzy and shaken. Jim must have sensed something was wrong. By the time Molly was walking away with Kinnick, Jim was on the gazebo steps next to him.

"Are you okay, Chief?"

Blair leaned close and whispered, "Jim! Scan her before she goes. There's something really strange about her."

"I noticed it, too," Jim murmured. He only had a few moments before the pair disappeared through the trees. He shook his head. "I'm just not sure. One of many puzzles. Let's go. We can compare notes while we drive."

&&&&&

Paul Kinnick unlocked the car. Ellison had assured him that no one else was in the park, and a sentinel ought to know. No one had seen their rendezvous; no one would suspect. "Molly, I need you to listen very carefully. If anyone asks, you tell the truth. We went to the park, took a walk, and then went to breakfast. The only thing you leave out is talking to someone while we were here. We're going to eat now, and then I'll take you home. Just go about your regular routine."

"Okay, Paul. I understand. Is it still okay if I go shopping tomorrow? My friend Kayla asked me last week."

Kinnick considered that. She was so unprepared for what they had in front of them. His brother had carefully kept her from any knowledge of the business. As far as she was concerned, Michael had died of natural causes, and he had no intention of telling her anything different. He also had no intention of letting Ruberto Lazar get his claws on her.

It was going to be a tense day. Ellison had promised him he would act quickly, and he believed the man. He might need to move at a moment's notice. He really didn't want to let Molly out of his sight, but it might look suspicious to do otherwise.

"Shopping is fine, but we'll discuss it again tomorrow. I need to be able to reach you." He looked at her across the vehicle. Her brown eyes had widened. She was such a sensitive kid. "Just do exactly what I tell you to do, and everything will be okay. Don't fret. That guide didn't bother you, did he?"

"Oh, no. He was very nice. Did you know he teaches at the University?"

"A guide? Honey, guides stay with their sentinels."

"He said he taught at Rainier, and was a grad student. I don't think he lied to me, Paul."

"Well, maybe not." Ellison's guide was the least of his worries. He pulled into the lot of Molly's favorite breakfast place. "Come on. Let's go demolish some strawberry waffles."

&&&&&

Jim's mind was racing. He needed to see Simon. They'd set up a priority meeting with the organized crime task force, and probably with the District Attorney's Office. They couldn't waste this opportunity by dithering around.

He could drop Blair at the University, then get to the station. He looked quickly at his partner, and had second thoughts. Blair was still pretty shaky, even though he'd never admit it. He checked his watch. It was barely seven. Simon wouldn't be in for another hour, even if he called him at home. The same was true for the members of the task force. Twenty minutes spent with Blair wasn't going to make a difference either way. Time for a quick change of plan. He made an abrupt left turn at the next intersection. Blair gave him a questioning look.

"That bagel place you like is down this block, isn't it?" Jim asked. "We can stop off and take a minute to map out our day."

"Okay," Blair said a little hesitantly. After a few moments, he added, "I kind of figured Kinnick would take up most of your day."

"Probably will," Jim agreed as he pulled the truck into a parking spot. Both men climbed out of the vehicle. Jim didn't miss the groan Blair tried to stifle. He waited at the curb and wrapped an arm around his guide's shoulders. "I expect you to pick something delicious for me. Don't they make breakfast things here, too?"

Blair did a double take. "Yeah, but I thought we were just picking up takeout."

"Everyone I need to talk to is either getting ready to leave home or is already on the way in to the office. I can't imagine you have many students showing up this early. We have time to eat."

They stopped at the counter and ordered. When Blair ordered nothing more than a bagel and juice for himself, Jim quickly added a side of scrambled eggs and some fruit, along with an omelet for himself. Jim's mind floated back to his conversation with David the previous evening. Proximity; he could do proximity. Glasses of juice in hand, he steered them to a table in the back. He scooted Blair's chair close enough for their legs to touch. Blair seemed to understand, and sighed as he basked in his sentinel's shielding.

Jim worried about Blair's level of exhaustion. "I'd like to take you back home. I'm not sure you're up to running around Rainier right now," Jim said.

Blair snapped immediately into anxious grad student mode. "I have an awful lot of grading, Jim. I didn't get anything done last night. Even if I stayed home, I'd still need to work, and all my stuff is at school. Really, I'll be okay."

"I know that, but you don't have any classes, do you? Office hours?"

"Not really. My only class is at three. I could do some schoolwork, and come to the station before lunch. I can crash in my office if I really need to. I don't need to go home."

Jim considered that for a moment. "No one was expecting this to move so rapidly. It will take a while to contact the task force and get everyone there for a review. Just before lunchtime might work out fine."

They ate in silence for a moment. Blair tore small mouthfuls off his bagel, usually a sure sign he wanted to ask something and was afraid to. "Spit it out, Chief. What's on your mind?"

"Well - uh - will you just be doing the task force thing?"

Jim was confused. "Sandburg, you know the routine, and we already talked about this. The task force is the first step." Blair still looked apprehensive. "What are you really asking me?"

Blair took a deep breath. "I mean, will it be too soon for the DA's office? They've got some people, one in particular - I don't know his name - he doesn't like guides at all. David and some of the other guides have mentioned it."

Jim swore under his breath. He'd forgotten about W. D. Price. Most members of the PD, Jim included, disliked the man on multiple levels, for a wide variety of reasons. His arrogance was legendary. Although he ran roughshod over nearly everyone, Price had a reputation of being particularly tough on guides. Prior to bonding, Jim had never paid any attention to that particular issue. Now that he had a guide, no less an authority than Sentinel Dr. Harvey had warned him to be careful around the man.

"W.D. Price. A total jerk." Jim said angrily. "I forgot about him. I'm glad you reminded me. The task force will review everything, and that takes some time. The DA's office normally wouldn't be called in until after we bring Kinnick in from the cold. No need for you to worry about him, at least today."

"Okay," Blair said, taking a healthy bite of his abused bagel. "I'd just like to avoid him if I can. Angry people take a lot of energy."

"I understand. Maybe Simon can put a word in for someone else. The Prosecutor's Office has more than one attorney. So, are we settled? I'll come get you before lunch."

"Jim, I can get over to the station," Blair protested. "My car's in the lot at school."

"Not a chance. I don't want you driving, and you're not catching a bus across town or something like that. You're hurting, Chief, and I should probably be insisting that you take a sentinel day and go straight back to bed." He knew Blair hated it when he hovered. To soften the blow, he added, "Humor me."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said with a smile. "I know you're just trying to look out for me."

Their food arrived. Hoping to catch Blair in a good mood, Jim handed him two aspirin. He'd grabbed them before leaving the loft, knowing full well Blair would never take anything on his own. "Don't even bother to argue," Jim said pointedly. "Now eat."

&&&&&

His stomach full and feeling decidedly less achy, Blair waved at Jim's departing truck. He shifted his books to the other arm, where he had fewer bruises. He should really head for his office and do that grading, but he kept walking past Hargrove Hall and headed for the library. Molly and her unusual bearing were too tantalizing a question to let go.

Since leaving the park, Blair had considered several possibilities and discarded them all. She wasn't a guide, even one just coming on line. Damper drugs weren't feasible either. Even with damper drugs, a sentinel of Jim's abilities would have honed in on guide status immediately once he'd taken the time to check.

Nor was she like their neighbor, Hetty, who had empathic ability but wasn't talented enough to be a guide. That was common enough. Individuals and their families were watchful, since anyone with empathic tendencies at any level had inherent vulnerabilities. Even late bloomers were generally aware of their empathic abilities as children to a certain extent. Testing starting at an early age was routine. The girl had given no sign of being aware of any empathic potential.

Adding to his frustration was a feeling that he'd read something related - but what was it? He had a vague image in his head of a fragile, age-yellowed page, decorated along the margins with colorful designs.

Why couldn't he remember the name of the text? He reached the steps of the library, but made a quick stop on the wide, padded benches in the entry. The short walk from Hargrove had his muscles screaming, and he felt light-headed. He took the moment to rest, and plan a strategy. He could scan through the reference stacks. Based on what he remembered, a stop in the special collections' library, where many of the old manuscripts and books were located, was probably called for. It was possible that the book, and flighty scraps of memory indicated a book, was in the Sentinel Section, which was more of a problem. Guide Sandburg, no matter what his university status, wasn't welcome in the specially designed part of the library reserved for sentinels to do their studying.

Jim would have a fit if he knew he was prowling around campus all morning instead of chilling out with his feet up in his office. Feeling a little guilty, he used his cell phone to ring Jim at the station. Jim didn't answer, which probably meant he was already meeting with Simon. Blair sighed in guilty relief. Conversing with the answering machine meant he could avoid an immediate argument with his sentinel. Blair left a message that he'd be at the main library, and would call if he went elsewhere. That done, he began his search.

&&&&&

Dr. Phillip Manning could hardly contain his irritation. He'd been overjoyed to find Sandburg's office empty when he made a surreptitious visit to the basement of Hargrove Hall. Minutes later, he was disappointed. According to the department secretary, Sandburg had no obligation to be present on this particular morning. He had one of his own classes in the afternoon, but no teaching or office hours were on the schedule. When he'd set the substitute class gambit up, he trusted to luck that Sandburg would have early responsibilities to make things more difficult. If a repeat was needed, he'd plan more carefully.

He retrieved the materials from his mailbox. The envelope he expected was on the top of the stack. He hurried to his office, locked the door, and tore open the seal on the envelope. He smiled as he settled the tape of Sandburg's lecture in the player. The young man had to have been on his last legs. Surely, class would not have gone well. With the tape as proof, he'd be able to establish once and for all what a foolish idea it was to put a guide in an academic environment.

After a half hour of listening, skipping to different sections of the tape, his hopes were dashed. Anyone listening to the tape would find no fault with Sandburg's performance. If anything, his deft handling of a few verbally hostile students was impressive. The whole exercise had been a failure. His anger surged to the boiling point. Damn Woodward and his social engineering. The public status of guides was hardly the concern of Rainier University. Dr. Woodward had the status to force Sandburg down their collective throats, but right-thinking individuals, himself included, could not be kept down forever.

He tossed the tape into the basket on his desk. It had been worth a try, and there would be another attempt. He could plan more carefully. Little things would add up, as long as they continued to monitor the situation carefully. It was only a matter of time.

&&&&&

Even with the delay of taking Blair to breakfast, Jim still beat Simon and most of the task force members to the station. With nothing else to do, Jim pulled all the files on the Lazar organization. Paul Kinnick was mentioned frequently, but they'd never been able to nail him for anything. Both older brothers had done a stint in prison during their early days, but not Paul. When the elder brothers had met their demise, young Paul had moved into ever more increasing positions of responsibility.

He cornered Simon the moment the man arrived. They retired to the privacy of the captain's office.

"So he actually made direct contact. What's he offering?" Simon asked.

"Financial records. Tapes of phone conversations, emails, the works. He claims to have incriminating evidence on every major player in the Lazar organization."

"Even our mystery man, Ruberto Lazar?"

"Especially Ruberto."

Simon gave a low whistle. "That would be a coup. Do you think he's credible, or are we being set up? I thought he always wanted to go slowly. What's changed?"

"He was with a girl, maybe college-age, who he called Molly. I'm running a discreet check on their relationship right now. His only pre-condition is that she goes into witness protection, and he was adamant about that. Made no sense at the time, but Sandburg talked to her. Apparently, she is the late Michael Kinnick's stepchild, and her mother is dead. Paul has stepped in and taken responsibility for her. For someone who's not a cop, Blair does a damn good job of getting information. I'm running a check on their relationship now."

"Why would he be so insistent on witness protection?" Simon asked.

"At this point, it's all hypothesis, but she mentioned that Ruberto had made a marriage proposal."

"And Kinnick maybe doesn't approve," Simon added. "Tough spot if you're part of the organization. The boss usually doesn't take 'no' for an answer."

"If it checks out, I say we deal," Jim said firmly. "A situation like this won't come up again. He'll make other arrangements."

"I agree," said Simon, reaching for the phone. "Gather your files, and pull any of the old Lazar cases you think might be relevant. Let's see if we can get more information about the girl, if you think she's his primary motivation. I'll make the calls. We'll start the initial review as soon as I can get everyone here. Are you sure Kinnick knows we can't act immediately?"

"I explained it. He seems concerned about moving as soon as possible, but he understood, and agreed. He wants guarantees for Molly upfront. He says she has no ties to the organization; I tend to believe him. If that holds true, it costs us nothing to make guarantees for her safety."

Simon checked his watch. "It will take at least a couple hours to get everyone here. Pull all the help you need to get set up. Where's Sandburg? He's good at these things."

"I took him to the University, and I'll pick him up later this morning. I need to keep an eye on him, Simon." Jim briefly explained the circumstances surrounding Blair's tumble down the stairs.

"Not good, Jim. How banged up is he?"

"Worse than he'll ever let on. I need to be careful, Simon. He's pushing his limits, and we both know I need him."

"I hate to say it, but maybe he should back off at the University. After all, his job..."

Jim interrupted. "He has a job, but he also has a life. I don't want to compromise on this, Simon. He just got started again. I can't pull the rug out from under him. Not now. He trusts me, and that's been hard won. I won't put that in jeopardy."

"I understand, but you know how much I depend on you here. Under the circumstances, do whatever you think necessary. That includes leaving to take him home."

"Very good, sir," Jim said crisply. He hesitated, then turned back.

Simon noticed he was still there. "Something on your mind, Jim?"

"Actually, there is. How should I say this? Do we have any say on who gets assigned from the DA's Office?"

"Some. Any reason we should care?"

"I was wondering if we could avoid Price. This is my case, and I've been warned he's rough on guides."

Simon considered the suggestion. "It's out of the ordinary, but you have a point. If Sandburg's already struggling, we don't need to make it worse. Besides, I can't stand the guy anyway. I have a few strings I can pull. I'll give it a shot."

"Thank you, sir."

Simon nodded, already dialing the first number he needed.

&&&&&

Blair checked the time, frustrated with how the morning was slipping away. This kind of research, pulling book after book from the shelves and skimming the pages, was tiring on the best of days. The aspirin Jim had forced on him had worn off a good hour ago. His body ached and his head was pounding. So far, his search had yielded nothing. He was becoming ever more convinced that the book he needed was in the Sentinel Section, or the GDP's own special collection, which was attached.

For what it was worth, all the morning's futility had narrowed the possibilities down. Each failure had resurrected a few more details of fragmented memory until Blair had a pretty clear picture of what he was looking for. He was now certain it was a fluke that he'd seen the text in the first place. Volumes housed in the Sentinel Section were rarely released to general circulation, and the public was generally barred from physically entering past the reception area. Certain texts and manuscripts were often restricted exclusively for use by members of the Sentinel Institute or the GDP who were doing advanced academic research. The chances of Blair Sandburg, a guide, getting anywhere near those materials were essentially nonexistent.

Before Jim, before the GDP and the hell with Alex, when Blair had been just a regular student and not a guide, he'd spent plenty of hours on student work study jobs in the library. He'd been called in to help set up a special educational exhibit sponsored by the GDP. The job had made his skin crawl. An undiscovered empath, he avoided the GDP at all costs. Unfortunately, everyone knew he needed the money, and to turn down the hours would have aroused suspicion. During unpacking and setup, this particular book had caught Blair's eye, and he'd cautiously slipped away on his lunch break to read it thoroughly.

It was fascinating. It was a personal journal, written several hundred years before the rediscovery of the modern sentinel. He could remember that much, and not much else. If only there had been time to read it more closely.

Blair shuddered. The gaps in his memory had filled in. The book had been sent in error; somehow mixed up with all the other materials that were part of the exhibit. He could remember the sour taste in his mouth when he realized that GDP officials were tearing the library apart, looking for the very volume that was spread open in his lap. He was nearly caught trying to return the delicate, leather-bound journal without being discovered himself. He'd been terrified, jumping at every strange voice for weeks afterwards.

So, if the book still existed, it was no doubt under lock and key somewhere in some restricted archive. Not the kind of thing you could request on inter-library loan. Blair was gnawing a fingernail in frustration when the cell phone jerked him back to reality. No doubt it was Jim. This particular wild goose chase would have to wait.

&&&&&

Jim wheeled into the parking lot closest to Hargrove Hall at breakneck speed. When he caught sight of Blair huddled on the bench used by students waiting for the bus, he wished he'd run the siren as well. Even at a distance, Blair looked like he'd had a tough morning. The set of his shoulders told the sentinel the bruised ribs were worse. He scanned quickly for pedestrians, then gunned the truck up to the curb and screeched to a stop. He was out of the cab opening the passenger door before Blair even pulled himself off the bench.

"That does it, Chief. We're going straight home."

"Take it easy, Jim. Don't overreact here," Blair protested.

"Save your energy, Sandburg," Jim snapped. He gently pulled the backpack off Blair's shoulders. He watched calmly as his guide's hand tightened around the strap and then released, apparently giving up on any thoughts of playing tug-of-war. "Good choice, buddy," Jim added softly, as he placed the pack on the sidewalk. "You should have called me when you started feeling this bad. And why didn't you stay in your office? The last thing you needed to do was traipse across campus in the rain."

"Jim, don't be that way," Blair pleaded. "I felt fine until just a little while ago. Really. Besides, weren't you with the task force? No way I'd interrupt that meeting.

"No, I wasn't with the task force, and I really don't care who or what you interrupt," Jim answered angrily, raising his voice. "You need me, you call, no matter what." He immediately softened his tone when Blair's shoulders hunched and he rubbed fretfully at his temple. "I'm not mad at you, Chief. You banged down a whole flight of stairs. Give yourself a break once in awhile. I called for some takeout. We can pick it up on the way."

"What are we eating?" He gave Jim a weak grin. "If you called it in, it isn't WonderBurger."

"Deli. I got you a salad, a sandwich and one of those gooey frosted cookies you pretend not to like."

"I won't argue." Blair wearily closed his eyes, slumping in the seat. "You're right, Jim. I should have laid low in my office."

"Well, that's something. Next time, don't be such an eager beaver. Whatever was in the library could have waited." They rode in silence for a few blocks. "You want to go in, or just pick it up?" Jim asked.

"Pick up," Blair said, without opening his eyes. "We've got to be running late. I really should have hopped on the bus. You've wasted a good forty minutes doing nothing but driving around."

"It's not a big deal. It took Simon forever to put a meeting together. I didn't do much other than background."

"Really?" Blair pushed himself into a seated position. Jim could feel the pulse of worry under the fatigue. "I thought - well, isn't the point of the task force to have a quick response? Did I get something mixed up?"

"Take it easy, Chief. It's not a big deal. Under normal circumstances, you'd be right. This case isn't typical. Kinnick walked in on his own without being part of an on-going investigation. No one was expecting it, including me. When things are geared up, the task force can meet within the hour. This wasn't one of those times."

"Since I haven't been through one of these, what would usually happen?"

"We'd have a suspicion that we were getting some action. A case would be breaking, or negotiations would be in progress. The task force is in full operation only when there's an active case. It takes awhile for everyone to shift gears. Some of the lead members were in court. We're geared up for this afternoon."

"Oh, okay. Maybe we could just go in? Salad never tastes as good in cardboard, if you know what I mean."

Jim snorted. "Sure. I need to keep working on you. All that green doesn't taste like much, period, cardboard or not." He pulled into a parking spot.

&&&&&

Paul Kinnick backed up each file, meticulous as always. His elder brothers, especially Michael, had always emphasized the importance of keeping accurate records. It was just good business. To be brutally honest, if your business was extortion, so much the better. His brothers, especially Michael, had taught him, protected him, and ultimately given him a place in the Lazar organization. It was a good thing to be the younger brother of Michael and Lawrence Kinnick. Before their untimely deaths, Michael had been the brains and Lawrence had been the muscle. Michael was shrewd, always aware of subtle changes within the organization, carefully positioning himself and his brothers to their best advantage.

When the Lazar family had been nearly crushed by the Cascade PD, Michael had represented stability amidst the chaos. The newly arriving Ruberto Lazar had relied on Michael immediately, praised his loyalty and tenacity. Michael had increased his standing, and taken Paul with him.

It had earned his beloved brother four bullets in the back, and orphaned his step-daughter.

Paul slipped another disk in. Computer use was monitored. He'd set up the system himself. He carefully filled only a disk or two a day, concealing his efforts as normal routine. It was slow and dangerous. Download too much in one day, and someone could get suspicious, look a little more closely at his activities. He knew many of Ruberto Lazar's secrets, but Ruberto didn't really trust anyone around him. The next few weeks would be a careful balance of negotiation, concealment and betrayal, not too fast, not too slow.

He wondered what Michael would think. If it meant protecting Molly, he hoped his beloved elder brother would approve.

&&&&&

William Douglas Price adjusted his tie and grabbed his coat. He was on a roll today. Two successful plea bargains and a favorable ruling from the Grand Jury made for a good morning. To top it off, he'd have an easy, if boring, afternoon reviewing the cases being prepared by his assistants. He'd have plenty of time for a leisurely lunch.

He stopped at his secretary's desk. "Are all my appointments confirmed for the afternoon?"

"Yes, sir. All except Mr. Nedoma. He's sending his files with his assistant."

"Like hell he is."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Price." The woman quailed under his angry gaze, flipping through her notes. "He was reassigned to a new case."

"What new case? There isn't any new case!"

"Well," she stammered, "I guess it happened this morning, rather suddenly. I think they may have mentioned something about the task force."

Price went deathly still.

Task force cases involved a lot of backbreaking work, but of you were careful, there was an occasional plum. W. D. Price was careful. He made a point of taking the cream of the crop for himself. "Why wasn't I notified? You could have reached me easily enough."

His secretary cringed. "Mr. Price, I don't know anything about this. Maybe I heard Mr. Nedoma's office wrong," she added hopefully.

Price walked away without a word. The little idiot. Probably away from her desk when the call came in. He marched into an office at the end of the hallway without bothering to knock. "What's this about a task force case, Phillips?" he demanded. "Who gave it to Nedoma without me seeing it first?"

Jason Phillips looked up grimly from his desk. "Hello to you, too," he answered, clearly annoyed with the man barging into his office. He pushed back in his chair. "Case came in this morning, very last minute. We don't have any details. You weren't here, and Nedoma just wrapped up his primaries."

"You should have sent it to me first. I always review task force cases before they're assigned."

"Quit posturing, Price. They're supposed to go in the rotation, and you know it. You were out, and they needed someone. Nedoma was available. Look, don't get all fired up. There's no on-going investigation. For all I know, it's a simple review."

"Call Nedoma and tell him I'm taking it."

Phillips shook his head. "He's already on his way over."

"So? Get him on the cell. I'm taking it."

"Why bother? Let Nedoma have it. We've all got plenty of work. Besides, you don't know anything about it. It could be a dog."

"If it is, I'll hand it off. Now call him."

Phillips looked at the sea of papers on his desk. "I have court in less than an hour. I don't have the time or energy to argue with you. Call Nedoma yourself, if you want it so bad. Just get out of my office so I can get back to work."

Price rolled his eyes as the door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.

&&&&&

"Simon, we're on our way out."

"I'll be right down. Got to take this one," Simon answered. He waved his detective along, returning to his last minute phone call.

Jim was moderately satisfied. He'd convinced Sandburg to take more aspirin with lunch. The food and the painkiller had boosted his guide's energy level considerably. The disagreeable task of preparing the briefing materials had gone much faster with Blair around. All that was left was to set up the conference room, and they had just enough time to manage that.

They were headed that direction when the call came in to Jim's desk. "Hold on a sec, Chief. Ellison," he said tersely. "Yes. That's right. Absolutely we'd be interested. Can you send it up? We're going to be starting in about fifteen minutes. Damn." He looked up, covering the receiver. "It's Narcotics. They think they've got a case that's pertinent. Can you set up while I run down there?"

"Sure, Jim. No problem." Blair waited patiently while Jim added his share to the stack of papers he already carried in his arms.

"Get Rhonda..." Jim was already out the door as his voice trailed off. Blair headed toward the conference room. Jim was way overprotective. There was no need to bother Rhonda. He was perfectly capable of spreading a few papers around a conference table.

The room they were using was just down the hall from Major Crime, but it was a secure area. Blair waited tensely as the uniformed officer checked his ID, willing himself to relax. Even at the station, where his face was becoming recognizable, he was never certain of his reception when meeting someone new. His Observer's Pass clearly identified him as a guide, but it just as clearly identified him as Jim Ellison's guide. Even if someone was inclined to hassle a guide working alone, most were smart enough not to antagonize Detective Ellison.

The officer eyed him suspiciously. "I guess you can go in," he said, tossing the pass back across the desk. "You're sure your sentinel will be right here?"

"Yes, officer. He's on his way. He had to make a stop in Narcotics first." Blair kept his eyes downward. Most people would take offense if a guide had the temerity to act like a citizen and carry on the conversation eye to eye. There was no sense in provoking anyone. He clipped the badge back onto his collar. Jim never made him bother wearing it openly when they were in the bullpen, but this was more public. Once again, Blair was grateful his sentinel had insisted that the rogue marking be removed from his badge.

He couldn't completely suppress a shudder when he stepped into the narrow, windowless conference room. It brought back images of other closed rooms, ones filled with GDP officers and endless questions and pain.

Blair set the stack of paperwork down. Live in the present, not in the past. He shut out everything except the task at hand.

&&&&&

Simon stood by his desk, fidgeting impatiently while this last-minute call went through. He was anxious to get a look at the supporting materials Ellison had pulled together. Paul Kinnick could turn out to be a huge break in their war against the Lazar family. He wished he could put this off until later, but since he'd already begged a favor from Jason Phillips today, it would be rude not to take the call.

"Simon? It's Jason Phillips. Hey, I did my best, but there's been a change of plan."

"Don't tell me we have to reschedule. I really think we need to move on this."

"You wish. The meeting's still on. Look, I sent you a good guy..."

"Nedoma, right? You said he was sentinel and guide savvy. So, what's the problem?"

"Well, I tried, anyway. The problem is Price found out somehow and decided he wants the case."

"Jason, I thought we had this worked out."

"Between you and me we did. Price put his foot in it and I wasn't in a position to fight him without making it an official request, and we both agreed we wanted to avoid that. I know your sentinel may be touchy, but Price doesn't violate any procedures when he deals with guides.

"He separates them from their sentinels and banishes them to a glorified holding cell. He keeps them on their knees for hours in his presence. Shall I go on?"

Guide isolation is a normal GDP procedure, and so is kneeling. Being a jerk about it isn't officially a problem. I don't have a leg to stand on. I'm sorry, Simon."

"All right. We'll live with it. Thanks for the heads up."

"Shit, don't thank me too much. He was going to try to catch Nedoma en route. He'll probably crash the meeting today. Don't be surprised."

"In that case, I'd better move. I know you tried, Jason, and I appreciate it."

Simon hustled out of his office. Jim's desk was already empty, as expected. He'd gone on ahead, as planned. He wanted to warn Jim that their attempt to avoid Price had failed, and he didn't want to do it in front of Sandburg. "Rhonda, did Jim leave with Sandburg?"

His pretty secretary smiled. "No, sir. I think he sent Blair to the conference room, but Jim had to run down to Narcotics."

"Call down there, will you, and tell him to stay put. I need to have a word."

"Yes, sir. What if I don't catch him? Captain Banks?" Rhonda shook her head as her boss vanished before she could question him further. Whatever had Simon hot and bothered, he apparently didn't want to take time to formulate a Plan B.

&&&&&

"Who are you?"

Blair jumped at the sound of the harsh voice. A tall, dark-haired man was standing in the doorway, wearing an extremely expensive suit and an unfriendly glare.

"Where's your authorization?" the man barked, moving across the room aggressively. "This is a restricted area. What's your name? Answer me!"

Blair took a step back and stopped. Every instinct screamed at him to bolt, but this angry man was between him and the door. Besides, he had every right to be here. "Blair Sandburg. I'm attached to Major Crime."

"Which still doesn't explain why you're in here alone." The man's voice rose to a shout. "Now answer me!"

"Detective Ellison and Captain Banks are on their way," Blair explained quietly. The internal battle raged: slip to his knees like a well-trained guide or behave like anyone else. Blair held his ground, not speaking further. The man was crowding into his personal space. He was trying to think of something to defuse the confrontation when he realized the man was staring at his identification. The blow across the jaw caught him totally by surprise.

"A guide?" the stranger screamed. "They let a guide in here with sensitive information? Alone?" Blair was knocked backwards, dazed. The bitter tang of blood was on his tongue. A second shove bounced his head off the wall and sent him to the floor. He tried to struggle to his feet, torn between trying to explain, fighting back, or fleeing. A vicious kick into the already sore ribs sent him down. "On your knees! You get on your knees and stay there." A heavy foot shoved his face to the floor. "I'll get to the bottom of this."

It was too much. This man hated, passionately. The intensity of the emotion crushed his barriers, still fragile from the previous twenty-four hours. Awareness fled to a place where there was no shouting, no anger, no pain. Blair went still as a trickle of blood pooled on the floor below him. He didn't see, didn't hear - didn't care.

&&&&&

Jim heard the exchange in the conference room as he and Simon left the elevator. He took off at a dead run. Simon barely had time to catch the furious sentinel before total mayhem ensued.

"Let me have him!" Jim snarled. "Blair's hurt - there's blood." He shoved Simon aside, hell-bent on the conference room and nothing else.

It took every inch of Simon Banks' six foot four frame to pin his detective to the wall and keep him there. "I will handle this," he shouted. He wasn't getting Jim's attention. "Jim! Listen to me! I will handle it!"

Mercifully, the uproar had brought half of Major Crime pounding down the hallway. "Keep him here, Brown," Simon snapped, carefully releasing Jim to the bigger man. "Rafe, get Sentinel Edwards, or Dr. Harvey. Any sentinel you can find." He headed into to the conference room, brushing past the security guard. Someone was raging at him before he cleared the threshold.

"My God, Banks, this is beyond the pale. What are you thinking? Letting a guide anywhere near an important case? Walking around in plain view, handling the case materials? Where's his sentinel?"

Sandburg was on the floor. District Attorney Price was standing over him, a foot resting on the young man's neck. Simon could barely contain his anger. Right now, he was tempted to turn Ellison loose, and join in with him. This idiot was in his department, abusing one of his people.

"Get away from him," Simon said coldly, trying to keep his temper under control.

"What?" Price gave him an incredulous look. "Don't be ridiculous. Get some security in here. This one ought to be taken straight to the correction facility."

Simon cringed. Ellison was no doubt listening to every word. A statement like that would send him over the edge, not to mention the effect it would have on Sandburg. "I said get away from him. Move away or I'll move you myself."

"Are you serious?" Something must have finally registered, since Price took a few steps backward. "This is an outrage. Don't you people have any procedures? Who knows what that creature would tell, and to whom? Talk about a security risk."

"Right now the only one at risk is you," Simon growled. "Unless you want to be the object of a sentinel vendetta, back off and shut up. I don't have time for you right now."

Simon knelt close to Blair, careful not to touch him. "Sandburg? Blair? Jim's here, but if I turn him loose, he'll tear the place apart." Simon could detect no response from the huddled form. "Can you hear me, kid? Can you make it out the door? Jim's right there." Still nothing. Simon changed tactics. "Jim needs you. I'll help you up. Just reach out and take my arm." Simon slid his elbow out, in easy reach. "Come on, Blair. You can. I know you can."

Slowly, fingers curled around his wrist. Simon rose, ever-so-slowly, letting Blair slump against him. "Just a few steps, kid, and then Jim can take care of you. That's it." Blair was on his feet and moving. Somehow, the group outside the room must have known. A grim faced, but controlled Jim Ellison was waiting at the door. Jim gathered Blair in, whispering soothing words as he did.

With Jim occupied, at least temporarily, Simon turned his attention to Price. He crossed the room and spoke in a low, angry voice. "I don't care who you are. This is Major Crime. It's my show, and in this department, no guide kneels on duty."

Price gave him a scornful look. "You are out of your mind. You should be thanking me for dispensing some badly needed discipline to a guide. Like I said, he ought to be sent for correction, not coddled. You don't leave a guide wandering around without his sentinel like that."

"Price, I'm going to say this once. When you're here, you follow our procedures. Any guide assigned to a Major Crime sentinel is part of our team, and treated with respect. If they feel the need to act independently, they do it. No kneeling. No abuse. From now on, don't you ever forget it. And never, I mean never, lay a hand on any of our personnel again."

"You cannot be serious," Price sputtered. "Empaths are by nature unstable. They're an inherent security risk. I won't have it."

"This case originated in Major Crime, and it will be pursued with our resources. You're welcome to remove yourself if it's too much for you."

"We'll see about this," Price countered.

"We certainly will," Simon answered, still seething. "Rafe? You and Brown show our good prosecutor to his seat, or out the door, if he so chooses. We'll get started in five minutes."

"No problem, Captain." Henri Brown pulled out a chair and waited until the man reluctantly sat down. "We'll be happy to keep an eye on our - guest," he added with just a touch of menace.

Simon found Jim in the bull pen, carefully dabbing at the corner of Blair's mouth where Price's first blow had fallen. Sentinel Edwards was nearby. His guide, David, had a chair pulled up close to Blair's. "Jim?" Simon asked tentatively. "How's he doing?"

"I'm here, Captain," Blair said. "I'm fine."

Simon shook his head. "Excuse me, Sandburg, but you look anything but fine."

Blair didn't answer. Instead, he reached up and gently took the handkerchief Jim was using out of his sentinel's hand. "It was just a shock. If you can get Jim to stop mother-henning, I'll manage. No problem."

"No way, Chief. I'm taking you home. Right after I pulverize that fool."

"Other than the pulverize part, I agree," Simon added firmly, keeping Jim's earlier concerns in mind. Despite the tough talk, the kid's pallor worried him. Besides, getting Jim out of the building and away from Price had merits of its own. "Jim can take you home right now, Sandburg."

"And just how are you going to have a briefing on Jim's case without Jim there?" Blair asked tartly.

"That's not your concern," Jim said.

"Of course it is," Blair replied with a weary shake of his head. "I'm supposed to help you do your job, not keep you from it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jim said. "This isn't open for debate."

"No, it's not. But I'm asking anyway." Blair's expression was set, but his eyes were pleading. "I need to do this. I can't let him win. I can't let any of them win. Please, Jim."

No one in the room missed the set of Blair's jaw, or his tone. This was important to him. Blair would be humiliated to leave under these circumstances.

"With your permission, Sentinel Ellison?" It was David. Simon was slightly shocked. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard the young man speak without being addressed directly through his sentinel. "I believe Sentinel Edwards was going to assist with the briefing? Perhaps, if Blair and I were seated near each other, I can provide additional support if it becomes necessary." He kept his eyes on Edwards, his voice hesitant. "We'll be discreet, of course," he added, as if that were important. Simon wondered if this represented new behavior for David. Whatever the circumstances, Edwards seemed to approve.

Simon sensed it was time for him to step in. "I'll have things arranged exactly as you say. Will seating by the doorway be acceptable, Jim?"

Jim nodded. "I know when I'm beat," he said. "We'll need a moment, sir." He laid a hand gently on his guide's head and pulled him close.

"Of course. Edwards and I can get things rolling." As they left, Simon could just hear Jim murmur, "Damn you, Sandburg. Talk about stubborn. We'll do it your way, but we're out of there in a heartbeat if there are any problems."

&&&&&

"If we're all in agreement, that will be all." Simon waited for the confirming nods around the room. "Make whatever arrangements are necessary in your respective areas."

The conference room started to empty out. Simon breathed a sigh of relief. Considering the rocky start, the briefing had gone remarkably well. The task force had agreed with their own assessment - Kinnick was pure gold if they could pull it off.

The best news was that Nedoma had showed up, unaware that the senior prosecutor intended to upstage him. The internal politics of the prosecutor's office normally wasn't Simon's concern, but mercifully Price had departed and Nedoma had stayed. The reversal might not be permanent, but it made the immediate issues go more smoothly.

He waited until the room was empty except for himself, the two sentinels and their guides. Normally, Simon would have been hesitant to include Edwards on a case of this prominence. The man had just transferred to Major Crime. He had a great record, but Simon didn't have the confidence in him that came with a long working relationship. On the plus side, Ellison seemed totally comfortable with him. That would have to be assurance enough.

"Since we have clearance to proceed, we need to contact Kinnick. How do you want to handle it, Jim?"

"Separate secure communication, for one thing. This is too big to route anything through our phone systems, no matter how well disguised they are. Nedoma said he'd prepare the paperwork for Molly himself. No other eyes."

"Kinnick won't want incriminating paperwork around," Simon commented.

"I'll take care of that," Edwards offered. "Maybe a safe deposit box."

"I'll arrange another meeting with Kinnick," Jim said. "At some point, he'll need to meet Edwards and David, since one of us will be on twenty-four hour call while this runs its course, but that doesn't have to happen immediately."

"Timing?" Simon asked.

Jim considered that. "Soon, but not immediate, I think. I got the feeling that now he's made the decision, he'll collect what he wants to bring out very deliberately. Kinnick's smart, and he's careful."

"We don't want to rush him," Simon replied. "The more he brings out, the better. Keep me informed."

The sentinels departed, their guides in tow. Simon took a moment, standing there alone, to reflect on how complicated being a captain got sometimes.

&&&&&

Secure phone communications were the kind of thing you arranged in person. Jim kept a close eye on his guide, not totally convinced all was well. The technician assigned to them was experienced and highly professional. The arrangements took half the time Jim expected. They headed back to the bull pen.

"That went really well," Jim commented. Blair just nodded. His guide's lack of chatter was beginning to worry him. "You feeling okay, Chief?" he asked.

They were standing by the elevators. "I'm fine, Jim." He hesitated, and then asked, "Do we have anything else big? If I hustle, I can grab the bus back to Rainier and make my seminar class."

Jim did a double-take. He'd been so involved with the case, he'd forgotten Blair's schedule. "That was stupid," he said. "I should have remembered you had a class earlier. You didn't need to follow me around setting up telephones. Change of plan. I'll run you over and come back."

Blair started to protest, and Jim overruled him, pushing the down button impatiently. "Sandburg, I expected to be down here for another hour at least. You've got your stuff. Let's go."

Jim set off at his usual pace. Not halfway to the truck, he realized Blair was lagging behind. The difference in their strides was a running joke, but Blair normally kept pace without a problem. When they pulled into downtown traffic, Blair started rummaging around the glove compartment. Jim watched silently as he dug out the bottle of aspirin Jim kept there for his own headaches and downed two tablets. He started to put the bottle back, and abruptly opened it again and swallowed a third. Jim was shocked.

The usual chatter was still missing. Not only that, Blair was completely ignoring him. He was almost hugging the ever-present backpack. His head drooped.

They were stopped at a light. Jim scanned his guide thoroughly. The breathing was slow and even. He suspected Blair was consciously regulating it. "Chief, look at me."

That did it. Not even Sandburg could hide the dull, tired eyes. The gash across his cheek looked worse. The left side of his face was slightly puffy from Price's blow, and the cut at the edge of his mouth was noticeable. His guide looked like he'd been mugged. For all intents and purposes, he had been. Enough was enough.

Jim flipped the cell phone open. "Simon? Jim. Change in plan. Have Taggert or Brown bring a secure cell phone over to the loft as soon as communications finishes up. The guy's name is Walker. I'll make the calls from there. What? Price again? No, it's just not possible. I don't care what customary is, or what he wants, sir. All that matters is that the call to Kinnick is on a secure line. Price doesn't need to hear it in person. Sure, he can overrule me. Let him make the call himself and see how long it takes Kinnick to withdraw the offer and vanish into thin air."

"Jim!" Blair hissed. "What are you doing? Don't you do that on my account."

Jim waved him off impatiently. "I know what I'm doing, Simon. You send the communications I need, and set things up on the safe house end, just in case. Edwards can do that as well as I can. And tell that idiot Price to let us do our jobs. He's not a cop. Yeah, you can quote me on that one, sir. I'll be in touch." He disconnected the call and tossed the cell onto the bench seat.

Blair watched him warily. "You shouldn't have done that, Jim. You can't risk an operation because I was clumsy and fell down the stairs, or can't make it through the day without a disaster."

Jim reached over and gently rubbed the back of Blair's neck. "A little change of location isn't going to make a bit of difference. Besides, the really tough part of this little exercise will come over the next few weeks, when we get Kinnick out, not immediately. That's when I'll need all my sentinel senses, and I need you sharp to do that. This is just harboring the resources for the appropriate time." He gave Blair what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Now quit fussing and try to relax."

"I really need to go to this class."

"Chief, if this was a class you were teaching, I'd go sit with you if you needed me to. This is your seminar, right? Dr. Woodward will understand."

"I can't miss stuff. I just can't. You don't understand."

Traffic started to move. Jim turned away from the University and toward the loft. He hated conflict with Blair on this level. He couldn't think of anything to say, and he wouldn't change Blair's mind if he did. Instead, he looked ahead stonily, using silence to avoid arguing further with his guide.

He was worried on a number of levels. He was certain that Blair's header down the stairs hadn't been an accident. That in and of itself was a concern, but it also indicated that the opposition to Blair's placement at Rainier hadn't abated, whether his guide was telling him about it or not. The scene with Price just reminded Jim that their pairing ran counter to everything - the GDP, social customs, commonly accepted prejudices about empaths and guides in general. Blair was always philosophical about obstacles thrown in his path than he was. In contrast to his guide, he got angry, and raged against the system, or the immediate threat, demanding others change their ways. Blair's solution was to just work harder and prove them all wrong.

Work harder for how long, and at what cost?

&&&&&

Simon hung up the phone. On balance, he should have let Ellison dismember Price. It would have saved everyone a lot of time and irritation.

At this point, it wasn't clear if the case would be given to Nedoma or Price. Nedoma was doing the immediate work and Price was acting like he was in charge of the case, the DA's office, Major Crime and the rest of the known universe.

Jim was right. It wouldn't compromise anything to route communications out of the loft. They would have something there eventually under any circumstances. Even if it was never needed, it was simply prudent to have a mechanism in place that allowed Kinnick to make contact at any time. So what if they set it up that way to begin with? Price would just have to live with it.

Simon realized this little dust-up was the symptom, not the cause. The real issue was Ellison setting the sentinel world on its ear. Simon pulled out his dog-eared copy of Sentinel 101 out of his desk drawer. At one time, he'd believed that all he needed to know about sentinels was between its covers.

What a shock. Between the lies and the half-truths from the GDP, and Ellison's penchant for bucking the system, half the time he had no idea what to do. To make it worse, there was no one to ask for advice. It would have been a lot easier if Sentinel 101 had been fact and not fiction, and all the nice little round pegs went in nice little round holes.

He picked up the transfer request that had just come in the inter-departmental mail. Another sentinel and guide pairing was asking to transfer to Major Crime. If they only knew how lost he really was, maybe they wouldn't be so eager.

&&&&&

"Jim, you don't need to be in full hover mode. Really, I'm perfectly capable of getting up and eating." Blair hopped up off of the couch. "What am I saying? It's the middle of the afternoon. Why are we eating in the first place? I don't need food and I don't need to be here. I need to go to class."

Jim shook his head. He set the tray on the coffee table and handed a mug of hot soup to Blair. "Please don't argue with me anymore. If you can be stubborn, well, I can do stubborn, too. I want you to take these, too."

Blair eyed the tablets resting on the napkin. "No way. I'll take the vitamins, but I don't need a pain pill."

"I swear, Sandburg, try to remember I hear what your body says, not just what comes out of your mouth. Do you want to take them with your tea, or should I get something else for you?"

Blair accepted the handful of pills, but continued to protest. "That stupid pain pill makes me sleepy. I have stuff to do. If you're going to keep me here and not go to class, I at least need to grade."

Jim sighed. "It's just one afternoon. I'll hand over the backpack as soon as you finish your food. For now it's a hostage, and I'm the kidnapper."

Twenty minutes later, Jim was waiting outside the doorway to the loft before Henri Brown cleared the elevator. "Thanks, H. I'd have you in, but Sandburg's asleep." Jim couldn't stop the smile. His plan had worked perfectly. You had to get Sandburg to slow down before you could accomplish anything. Serving comfort food with his feet up on the couch had done the trick.

"He sick or something, Jim? Aside from that jerk Price?"

"No, not really. We had that chaos today, and he took a fall after class last night, and he's a little bruised up. It all just takes a lot of energy. You know how it is."

"Uh, Jim... I'm officially off duty for a couple of hours. Is there anything you'd like me to check out for you?" Henri gave him a look that said more than his actual words.

Had the offer come sooner, Jim would have gone for it. As it was, beating around Rainier asking questions might be counter productive at this point. It was gratifying to know the other members of Major Crime were nearly as protective of Sandburg as he was. "I think we got it covered, H, but thanks for the offer," Jim said, and then caught himself short. "Hold up for a sec."

With a watchful eye on Sandburg, Jim retrieved Blair's daily planner from his backpack. He'd remembered correctly. Dr. Woodward's seminar ended at four. That was a true stroke of good fortune. Jim scribbled some information on a scrap of paper and hustled back to the door. Blair was still sleeping soundly.

"Would you mind stopping by the University and letting Dr. Woodward know why Sandburg isn't there?"

"Dr. Woodward? Yeah, I talked with him once. Seemed like a nice guy. I bet he'll even get the class notes for Hairboy, since he won't be there."

"He probably will. Thanks again, Brown."

Henri started toward the elevator and turned back. "Why do I think that Sandburg didn't just fall down all by himself? You sure there isn't anything else you want me to ask about, Jim?"

Jim's eyes narrowed. With everything else going on, he still had his suspicions about Blair's so-called 'accident'. "Yeah," he answered. "Just ask Dr. Woodward about the class Blair had to cover last night. It was kind of last-minute, if you get my drift."

"No problem, man. What's the point of having friends who are detectives if you don't use them?"

Jim shut the door quietly. Sandburg was still sleeping, and the pain medication had worked it magic. Blair was breathing easily, no longer restricted by his bruised and aching ribs. His color even looked a little better.

Jim retreated to the kitchen to set up the equipment. He needed to make his call.

&&&&&

"Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"What time is it? How long have I been asleep?" Blair was trying to disentangle himself from the wool throw Jim had carefully tucked around him.

"Slow down, Sandburg. The equipment came, and I contacted Kinnick. Everything else is being taken care of. Brown went to the University and talked to Dr. Woodward for both of us. There's a message on the answering machine for you. I would have talked with him myself, but I was kind of occupied."

"I can't just miss class like that!" Blair made starts in several directions before finally dashing for the answering machine. He played the message twice, but even Dr. Woodward's promise to copy the lecture notes and make arrangements for Blair's classes the following day if he needed it didn't seem to calm him.

Jim dismissed all his other concerns, of which there were many. "Sandburg, what's going on? Dr. Woodward's been great whenever something like this has come up, and he's being more than supportive now. What aren't you telling me?"

"Jim, I'm not deceiving you," Blair said slowly. "I wouldn't do that."

Neither man closed the distance between them. Jim considered the statement for a moment. "I believe you, Chief," he said quietly. He chose his next words carefully. "You wouldn't lie to me. On that score, I trust you completely. However, you might forget to mention a few things now and then. It's time to come clean, buddy."

Blair sank into a chair and suddenly developed an overwhelming interest in his stocking feet. Jim stayed where he was. Something told him that Sandburg needed to do this on his own terms.

"It's nothing, really. You know most of it. Sometimes, things get messed up. It's probably just a coincidence. We've been over all of this before, Jim."

"If it's just the same old, same old, why are you so upset?" he asked shrewdly.

"I'm not sure, exactly. It's just that - sometimes, it feels kind of organized."

"The harassment?"

"Yeah, if it should even be called that. I shouldn't even mention it. A lot of stuff just happens. It's random. Someone makes a rude comment, some GDP officer just eyes me enough to let me know he's there. A few of the professors are openly hostile, but I can handle that."

"You mean like Dr. Higgins, the one who yelled at you in the library?"

"Yeah. But..." Blair's voice trailed off.

"But what?"

"I'm not really sure. I just have the feeling that some of the other faculty members are actively working against me, but they're not overt or anything. It makes my skin crawl. I feel like all the little things are being watched - stuff like this that Dr. Woodward thinks is no big deal, but someone else could tally it up and make it seem like a big deal."

"And you didn't tell me." Jim wasn't asking a question. He was stating a fact. "Why?"

Blair shuffled his feet, clearly miserable. "Because there wasn't really anything to say. I'm just being paranoid. We have so many other obvious things to worry about." His shoulders slumped even further. "I'm so much trouble anyway. No one would blame you if you called this whole thing off."

"Sandburg, you need to listen to me." Jim came close to the seated man. He wanted to touch him, reassure him, but he needed Blair to listen, not just feel. "You're an empath, a strong one. Your instincts are highly accurate. I don't have any doubts that you've got the situation pegged. There's only one thing you need to do different. Stop second-guessing Dr. Woodward's support, or mine. We're in this for the long haul. You can't keep killing yourself trying to be perfect, or make everything around you perfect. No one is. Some idiot with a list of picky shit like missed classes when you're attending your sentinel isn't going to be able to touch you." Jim finally reached out and ran a hand gently over his guide's still bent head. "Trust me, the way I trust you."

&&&&&

Dr. Robert Woodward gathered up his evening reading and headed for the Anthro office. It was tempting to head straight home. He could easily put off copying his seminar notes until tomorrow, but Blair Sandburg was often in early. To have the notes waiting in his box might reassure the young man. It wasn't as if skipping a single session when his guide duties called was the crisis of the century.

He'd missed Sandburg this afternoon. The seminar participants were all better-than-average students, but discussion seemed to lag when Blair wasn't there. He was more convinced than ever that Sandburg was an asset to the department, both as a student and as a teacher.

Woodward was thoughtful as he fed the handwritten sheets into the copier. Detective Brown was a colleague of Sentinel Ellison. Obviously, his questions this afternoon weren't casual. He was certainly asking on behalf of Ellison. If the detective was curious, he certainly had a reason, whether Blair had said anything or not. He'd really need to get to the bottom of the whole situation.

The entire anthro faculty had been clearly informed that Sandburg's guide duties were to be accommodated. He'd done it himself, in person. On that basis alone, Blair should have been the last one asked to fill in for a night class. It was nowhere near his turn in the rotation, either. Woodward knew for a fact that Sandburg had covered two sessions of Anthro 101 last week while Detective Ellison had been in court. So, why had Manning asked him anyway? Manning wasn't even the faculty supervisor for that course. Why had he been involved at all?

To make matters even more troubling, Woodward was positive he'd seen Ken Taylor, the course instructor, relaxing in the grad student lounge just before the class would have started. He certainly hadn't seemed ill, and he wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere.

He certainly had the authority to demand an explanation from either Taylor or Manning, but his instincts told him that a subtle approach might be more productive. He'd start with the department secretary in the morning.

&&&&&

Jim was up before the sun. He heard Blair stirring as he turned off the shower, and regretted waking the younger man so early. Sandburg had a full day of school ahead of him, and certainly could have used another hour of sleep. The poor guy could probably use another day of sleep.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he could smell the coffee. Blair was sitting at the counter, wrapped in a robe. His hair was sticking out in all directions, and he didn't look terribly rested. Jim frowned when he realized the cut on his cheek from the broken glasses looked red and inflamed.

"Morning, Chief. You could have stayed in bed, you know."

Blair yawned. "I have stuff to do." He took another long sip of coffee. "I just need to finish waking up."

"Right. Take a look at me." Jim ran a finger gently along the cut. To his sensitive touch, it felt hot and swollen. "I should have watched this more carefully yesterday. We need to put some antibiotic cream on it."

"Does it look bad?" Blair asked. Then he shrugged, as Jim headed for the bathroom. "Well, I guess it already looked bad. Does it look worse?" Jim returned, antibiotic ointment in hand. Not a chance he'd leave this for later. "Hey, did I tell you that Molly asked if my sentinel had disciplined me?"

A dead silence followed. Jim dabbed some ointment along the cut. "I wish you wouldn't joke about stuff like that," he said seriously. "It's the damn GDP that perpetuates ideas like that. Does it sting?"

"A little. No big deal. She didn't mean anything by it, and neither did I."

"I know. I still don't like it. How are the ribs?"

Blair snorted. "That you definitely wouldn't like. I look kind of scary. Technicolor bruises. I still feel like a total idiot."

Jim poured his own mug of coffee. He stood, leaning against the counter. "Chief, I think you may have had some help on that score."

"What do you mean? I trip over my own feet just fine."

Jim shook his head. "Chief, all teasing aside, you're not clumsy. I heard footsteps, going the other direction. Someone either saw you fall and didn't come to help, or they knocked you off balance in the first place."

"I... I would have known." Blair expression looked stricken.

"Maybe, but be honest. You weren't in real good shape. I know it's a point of pride for you, but that was too long for you to be on your own. You should have turned the class down, or I should have come by." One look at Blair's face and Jim knew he needed to say more. "Now don't take this wrong. We haven't had a chance to discuss this. I spoke with David and Edwards the night I went to dinner. I want to make things easier for you, Blair. I asked them for suggestions."

Blair looked down, not meeting Jim's eyes. "I'm not upset, not really. David and Sentinel Edwards are friends. I know you meant well. I just feel uncomfortable, being discussed. I guess it really shouldn't bother me. Everywhere I go, people say things behind my back. Don't look so surprised. I can't hear it like you can, but I can feel it."

That statement took Jim's breath away. He knew only too well the hurt created by hearing words not intended for your ears. The thought that Blair had similar experiences had never occurred to him. "I can relate. Can I tell you what Edwards and David said anyway?

Blair didn't answer. Finally, he gave Jim a weak nod.

"They understand, for one thing. David talked about how hard it was when they left the Marines and went to the force. The public setting interfered with their ability to connect. They make time to be alone during a shift. I think we should, too."

"I can make this work, Jim." He still wouldn't meet Jim's eyes.

"That's not the point. I know you can. I'd never question that. I just want to make it easier. You know, the old work smarter, not harder. You work harder than anyone I know already. There isn't any more 'harder'. We need to find 'smarter' instead."

Blair's voice caught. He wasn't listening. "I can make it work," he repeated quietly. "I can."

Without really meaning to, Jim moved closer. "I've got to explain this better. Look, neither of us prepared ahead of time for our bonding. I've kept the same workaholic schedule I always had. By any objective measure, it's stupid."

"My job is to be with you."

"Fine. I won't argue the point. You tell me. Can you name any sentinel-guide pairing working more hours than we do? No one. Not even Edwards and David. You've done a great job fitting into my life. I'm the one who needs to make the adjustment." Blair immediately started to protest. "Hear me out. How big a deal would it have been for me to come by the University, even if I did go out for the evening? How tough would it be for us to sit down and have lunch in a private spot? I don't need to work all these crazy hours either."

"It's your life, Jim. It's what you do. It's what we do."

"And I can do it better. Look, just think about it. Go shower, and I'll make some breakfast."

Blair nodded, and shuffled off toward the bathroom. Jim cursed himself as he cracked eggs into the pan. Now Blair would be fretting all day. They were both good at what they did individually, and they were good together. It shouldn't be this hard.

&&&&&

Blair was headed to his first lecture, his mind racing through his schedule for the day for at least the twentieth time. Not even nine o'clock in the morning and he already felt overwhelmed. And Jim - what was he going to do about Jim? They hadn't really argued, but they weren't in their usual harmony, either. He was still tired, even after Jim had insisted they go home early and he'd fallen asleep. His ribs hurt and the gash on his cheek throbbed. Everything was such a mess.

"Blair!" He turned toward the voice, almost losing control over the stack of blue books he was trying to carry. "Morning, Dr. Woodward. Hey, thanks for the notes. I really appreciate them."

"It was no trouble. Here, give me some of those." Woodward grabbed a handful of the slippery things that were drooping toward the floor. When he recovered and looked up, his smile faded. "My God, Blair, what happened to your eye?"

"Oh, that," Blair said, rolling his eyes. "I tripped and my glasses broke. It looks worse than it is."

Dr. Woodward looked him up and down. "How long do you have before your class, Blair."

"Uh - maybe ten minutes."

"Then I'll walk you. Give me more of those blue books."

"Really, I can make it..."

Woodward grabbed more of the papers and cut him off. "When did this happen? This accident?"

Blair was reluctant to answer. "Really, Dr. Woodward, it wasn't a big deal."

"So you say. You didn't answer me. When?"

Blair could see there was no escape. "After the night class. I tripped in the stairwell."

"I see," Dr. Woodward said. "Is this why Detective Ellison kept you home yesterday?"

"Look, I'm really sorry about that. I've just been a little run down, and we have this kind of unique case, and Jim - anyway, I fell asleep, and..."

"And he didn't wake you," Woodward said, finishing the sentence. "Take a breath, Blair. I wholeheartedly agree with the decision." They had reached the door of the lecture hall. "What is your schedule the rest of the day?"

"I have lectures for Anthro 101 back to back, then a class of my own. I usually stay for a while in my office so students can come in, and then go to the station. Actually, I guess Jim planned on coming to pick me up, but we're in the middle of this case, and it's hard to tell. I might need to go in immediately after class."

Woodward set the tower of blue books on the lectern, well aware of the amount of grading time they represented. "When you go back to your office, please give me a call, or better yet, stop by."

"Is something wrong, Dr. Woodward?" Considering how the day had gone so far, Blair was imagining every awful possibility. "Was there a complaint in one of my classes or something?"

"Not at all. Put your mind at ease." He reached out to pat Blair on the arm, and then pulled back. The sad look in Blair's eyes must have prompted an explanation. "I keep forgetting it's not like the old days, when I could just give you a pat on the back. I suppose even before you were a guide it took energy to keep up your barriers. I just didn't know."

"You don't have to worry so much, Dr. Woodward. I won't break. Really, if there's something I need to know..."

Woodward was already headed for the door. "Not at all, not at all. I hope to see you later."

Blair watched him leave. His students were starting to trickle in, so he wasn't going to have time to think about it. How could the day get any worse?

&&&&&

"Hi, Jim," Rhonda said. Her bright smile faded. The man's expression harkened back to the old days, when he was 'Storm Warning Ellison' instead of Jim. Before Blair, Jim, whipsawed by his misfiring senses, had been difficult at best. Rhonda had been the victim of his unpredictable moods and blunt speech more than once. Since he'd gained control over his senses, she'd grown accustomed to an easier, gentler Jim.

"Is something wrong, Detective?" she asked carefully, hoping to not make matters worse, whatever they were.

"Sorry, Rhonda. Just a little distracted." Jim pulled some folded notepaper out of his pocket. "I've got some special communications stuff routed through my desk. They always say it won't interfere with anything, but I want to make sure Sandburg can reach me today. I'd appreciate if you could check that it all rings through every few hours, just to be on the safe side."

"I don't mind at all. In fact, I can run down to the deli and try from a pay phone, just to check it on an outside line."

"Thanks, Rhonda."

Jim headed for his desk. If she was going to ask, it was now or never. "Detective? Is Blair doing okay? I mean, I know yesterday was kind of rough. When he's here, is there anything I can do? Please don't take offense," she added hastily.

"None taken. It's nice of you to ask, but Blair's just got a lot on his plate right now. Neither one of us got an instruction manual for this sentinel thing. Well, we got one, but it's a pack of lies."

Rhonda smiled. "If it makes you feel better, I threw my copy of Sentinel 101 in the trash during the first month. I'll make sure he can reach you, Detective. Captain Banks would like to see you as soon as possible, by the way."

"Sure thing," Jim said, although he didn't mean it. He had every intention of tracking down Henri Brown first. He wanted to know what Brown had ferreted out at Rainier before getting stuck in Simon's office. He started on his way, then caught himself and turned back. "By the way, Rhonda, you're the best. Sometimes we forget to tell you. I forget to tell you."

" Thank you, Detective. Have a good morning."

When he arrived, Simon was all business. They reviewed the preparations for the Kinnick case. Edwards had done an excellent job. Simon seemed pleased, overall. Jim didn't share his satisfaction.

"Jim, I don't get it. Considering we only went active twenty-four hours ago, this is going extremely well. The arrangements were set up in record time. Mind telling me what the problem is?"

"The arrangements are fine, Captain." Jim's expression didn't change. He continued to restlessly page through the paperwork.

"Then what?" Simon asked impatiently.

"I shouldn't have left this stuff for other people. This is my case." He looked across the desk ruefully. "I guess I don't delegate well."

"Don't second-guess yourself. You know better than to buy into that 'Ellison the super cop' nonsense. Even if you weren't comfortable with it, Sandburg needed to be taken in hand. I think you made the best possible choice."

"I guess I'm having a little trouble with that." He set the paperwork aside and stood up. He really didn't want to discuss this with his boss right now.

Simon, however, didn't let him off so easily. "Jim, you've been working without a partner since Jack. Now you're trying to integrate with a partner who is also your guide. You haven't been at it that long. What did you expect?"

"Since I never planned on a guide, I didn't expect anything," Jim answered, a bit testily. He edged toward the door, hoping to escape.

"Ellison," Simon added sharply. There was no mistaking the tone. Captain Banks wasn't done with his detective yet. "I'm not passing judgment here. I just think it's not as big a deal as you think it is. As far as the job goes, your solve rate since bonding with Sandburg is better than ever. On a personal level, I think you seem happier. My advice as your captain is to not be so hard on yourself."

"Will that be all, sir?"

Simon gave him a look that screamed he wasn't happy with that response, but he waved him off. Jim took the opportunity and left.

&&&&

Blair tapped his pen softly on the desk top. He wasn't paying much attention to Dr. Clancy's lecture, as his professor was no doubt aware. Since Clancy was probably going to be a member of his dissertation committee, it wasn't smart to offend him. Blair shifted in the chair and tried harder, cursing his inability to ignore his own scattered thoughts.

A few minutes later, he caught himself drifting again, thinking about the lectures he'd just given. Not his finest effort. He lost his place twice, and nearly forgotten to give the new reading assignment. He'd been less than gracious when a couple of students had stayed to complain about the grading on their midterm exam. He had an excuse, needing to hurry to his own class immediately afterwards, but he should have offered to meet during office hours. He hadn't. In fact, he was fervently hoping that no one came near his door at all.

Shit. Dr. Clancy had been outlining the premise for their next research paper, and he'd already missed half of it. He quickly looked at the scribbles of the nearest student, trying to piece together what he'd missed. If he was lucky, someone would ask questions, and spare him the necessity of asking himself. No one did. Blair couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and risk Clancy's disapproval. The man had high standards and a scathing tongue.

Finally, class was dismissed. He declined an invitation to stop by the student union for coffee. He didn't have the energy to be social at the moment, and Dr. Woodward was expecting him.

It was going to be bad. He just knew it. He couldn't stop his brain from racing through the possible complaints. Someone from the night class. One of his own students. He'd been later than usual returning midterms. He kept falling asleep at night while he was grading, and Jim was kind of picky about pulling all-nighters anyway. Maybe it was departmental. He tried to remember if there was some form or other that he'd forgotten to fill out. Had he missed a deadline?

He stopped at his office and sat for awhile. He even went so far as to ignore a knock on the door. Finally, he got his grade book, along with a disk of his current grades. If there was a question, he may as well go prepared. Locking the door, he headed for Dr. Woodward's office.

&&&&

Jim stared impatiently at the phone. Sandburg's class would be out any second. They hadn't parted on the best of terms this morning. No matter what he said to reassure him, Blair seemed despondent, almost desperate. Not that he was any better. He was having his own share of self-recriminations. Both of them were reacting like disaster was just around the corner. It wasn't like either of them to be so panicky. As Simon had so accurately pointed out, they hadn't been at this all that long.

Jim snatched up the phone, and set it down again just as quickly. If he called now, he'd probably interrupt something. He didn't want to make things worse by making Blair feel he was being monitored every second. Blair needed to have some confidence in him. Recently, everything Jim did seemed to undermine the relationship further.

Jim could feel his anger building. Brown's conversation with Dr. Woodward had confirmed every suspicion he had about what was going on at Rainier. He had plenty of patience in his investigative life and zero with anything personal. He wanted to rip the Rainier University Anthro Department apart. It was bad enough that Blair apparently didn't trust him enough to tell him everything. Even worse, it seemed his guide didn't trust himself enough to even acknowledge there was a problem. Blair wasn't a whiner, and he certainly wasn't paranoid. It was the ultimate irony that his guide was beginning to see himself as both, at the same time he was denying the realities of situation.

Jim closed his eyes, hearing from memory the sickening thumps as Blair had crashed down the stairs. A few bruises and a cut were minor compared to what might have happened. Denial and self-doubt might get his guide in serious trouble.

They might not be so lucky the next time.

&&&&&

"Blair, sit down," Dr. Woodward said, gesturing to a chair. "Can I get you some tea?"

"No thanks. I'm fine." Blair showed no inclination to sit down. "Just tell me what's wrong."

Woodward turned sharply. "Blair, this isn't the inquisition." He came around his desk and sat in the chair closest to Blair, waiting until the younger man relented and joined him. "It's the middle of semester. We're in the midst of the fray - midterms, papers, grading. I just wanted to see how things are really going, that's all."

"Everything's fine." Blair's hands were gripped around the chair arms so tightly his knuckles were white. "You must have had a reason to ask."

"I did, but it's not what you're thinking. We set out a very ambitious program, Blair. Teaching two classes, taking one and the dissertation seminar would be a full load for any graduate student."

"I'm very grateful. You can't know how much it meant - means to me."

"Blair, this isn't about gratitude. This is about practicality. You have a full load, and added my seminar on top of it. Clancy's course is always a challenge, for anyone. Your academics alone would be taxing, plus you have all the other things going on in your life."

"I can handle it. Really, things have just gotten a little crazy."

Woodward studied his protégé carefully. This was going badly. Blair looked like hell, and he seemed terribly shaken. They weren't making any progress this way. If anything, Blair seemed to be getting the exact opposite impression of what he intended. He was still searching for another approach when Blair's cell phone started ringing.

"Excuse me," Blair muttered, digging to locate his phone. "Sandburg. Yeah, Jim, I'm out of class. No, don't do that. I can drive over. My car's still here, remember? Do you want me to come to the station? Okay. No, let me get something to write with." Woodward quickly grabbed some notepaper and a pencil, and handed to his student. Blair was writing and talking at the same time. "Five twenty-four? Got it. Jim, wait for me, please. Don't try something by yourself." The call ended and he scrambled to gather his things. "I'm sorry. I have to go, Professor. This can't wait."

Woodward was loath to let him leave without straightening this out, but there was really no alternative. Blair was a guide, and his sentinel had called. He hoped his smile was encouraging as the shaken man dashed out of the room.

&&&&&

"Mr. Kinnick? Mr. Lazar wants to see you."

Paul Kinnick looked up from the papers scattered across his desk, searching Franklin's face for signs of danger. Had he been discovered? Did Ruberto have him followed after yesterday's meeting with Ellison? Did Ruberto know he was near total betrayal and a likely trip to prison, or worse?

The bodyguard's body showed no tension, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Paul decided it was no time to panic. He'd been careful. "Sure thing," he said. "Just let me lock up." He gathered the stuff off his desk and locked it into the storage drawer. The gun hidden in the bottom tempted him, but he locked the drawer and trailed in Franklin's wake, making every effort to look nonchalant and normal. He was ushered into Lazar's study. Franklin nodded to his employer and departed with a nod, closing the large double doors behind him.

"Paul, come in. Sit down, sit down." Ruberto Lazar gestured freely to the elegant luncheon set for two. He was a large, self-assured man, but rarely was he this congenial with his subordinates. Kinnick was wary, but tried to match Lazar's demeanor.

They chatted about business for a few minutes over the first course. This would have been normal if the fine wine and delicious soup hadn't been included. It was routine for Kinnick to report to Lazar several times a day. Until a few weeks ago, Kinnick had been proud of his move into Lazar's inner circle as one of his most trusted lieutenants. Preliminaries aside, the remainder of the meal was apparently going to be accompanied by conversation carefully scripted by Lazar. Kinnick shifted uncomfortably. He had no choice but to play along.

Kinnick waited until coffee and dessert, and could bear it no longer. Taking his last bite of tiramisu, he displayed what he hoped was a grateful, confident smile. "This was fabulous, Mr. Lazar. I'll have trouble concentrating this afternoon. I'll get right on that situation with the shipping company..."

Ruberto shook his head as Kinnick started to rise from his chair. "Paul, the work can wait. We have other more important things to discuss. Besides, family shouldn't be so formal."

Kinnick's heart sank. Family. Molly. He sat, taking a long sip of the fragrant coffee, trying to cover his panic. His boss hadn't missed a beat.

"I want both of you to be my guests this weekend on the boat. Take a few days sailing around the sound. Give us a chance to get acquainted." He smiled knowingly. "Molly has been brought up correctly. It's right to have you at her side, to guide her through this important time."

Kinnick grasped for any reason to delay. "It may be too soon. She's really young. Immature really. Michael did his best, God rest his soul, but he kept Molly sheltered, maybe too much."

"Ah, it's hard for a younger man such as yourself to understand. In this day and age, Michael did the right thing. A son - you want a son to know the world. Not so your little girl. Michael did as any good father should. When the time arrived, he would have chosen a man of maturity and honor to care for his angel."

"Maybe in another year," Paul suggested hopefully. You didn't come right out and say no to a man like Ruberto Lazar, not if you valued your safety. Not if you valued your family.

"That's what engagements are for," Lazar reassured him. "It's what her father would do, what you as her uncle will do. Since her mother is gone, we give her time with the right people, women of quality and maturity who can prepare her to be a good wife. A young woman like Molly will learn quickly. There's no rush. We begin slowly. Early summer, I should think, will be plenty of time."

Kinnick knew he had no room to maneuver. "Of course, you're right. We both want what's best for Molly."

"Wonderful. I'll send a car for both of you on Friday and we'll sail immediately. Have dinner by sunset. Now, we need to select some appropriate companions. I'll send a list for your approval. And of course, we'll discuss the financial arrangements for Molly."

Paul Kinnick lost track of the remainder of the conversation. He needed Ellison. If he had any hope of protecting Molly, his time and options were gone.

&&&&&

Jim stood outside the tiny, ramshackle frame house. He'd tried twice to enter, and had twice retreated, overwhelmed by the smells. Two patrol units, one at the front, one at the back were keeping the site secure until Blair arrived. Forensics was here and waiting. The pervasive chemical smell had necessitated a Hazmat team, but no one wanted to invade the pristine crime scene until a sentinel had a crack at it. Unfortunately, the sentinel was waiting in the yard. Without the presence of his guide, everything was on hold.

There were times he had little patience with his existence as a sentinel. He'd braved the horrors of the battlefield, only to be defeated by his senses in Cascade, Washington. Jim was angry and on edge, frustrated by having to wait rather than forge ahead and do his job.

The sight of the Corvair careening around the corner would normally put him right into the lecture on safe driving. Sandburg had made it across town in about half the required time. Who knew what traffic laws he'd violated? Today, instead of the lecture, Jim was just glad the grad student had finally arrived. He stepped toward the curb and flagged Blair down.

The Corvair coughed to a stop and Blair bounded out of the car, looking harried. "I'm sorry, Jim. I got stuck trying to get across the bridge."

"Don't worry about that now," Jim interrupted sharply. "We've got multiple fatalities, but they don't want to disturb the crime scene until a sentinel has reviewed it." Jim started up the walk. He didn't want to take any more time with preliminaries. He heard Blair's rapid footsteps as he hurried up the uneven concrete walk trying to catch up.

The rickety wooden porch creaked as he mounted the steps. The uniformed officers stepped back to allow him to pass. Even though the front door was just barely ajar, the smell from inside was awful. He stopped abruptly, and Blair promptly collided with him from behind.

"Jim, if you tell me what happened I can get us ready - Oh, God." Blair was staring at the wide smear of blood that ran the length of the doorjamb. Now that he was on the porch, he couldn't miss the two ragged holes torn out of the wooden door. "What happened here, Jim?" he asked.

"Some kind of drug dispute, we think, judging from the chemicals." Blair nodded. The chemical odor was obvious. "The report called to 911 said one guy, maybe two, blasted their way in with shotguns. The first officers on the scene found one guy, barely alive, who'd managed to crawl out here. He said everyone else was dead. They sent for us."

"And the survivor?