Title: Solid Ground

# 16 in the Father Figure Series

Author: Amethyst

Pairing: none

Warning: DD/CP

Summary: Naomi's past deeds bring out some of Blair's insecurities and threaten his health while Jim and the detectives of MC try to find a ritual serial killer

This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.

This story contains corporal punishment. Be warned.

Thank you to my beta Reva for all her hard work

Resources used for this story include:

http://www.halfmoon.org/vision.html

http://www.findarticles.com/ef-d/s/m1511/3-20/54359911/print.jhtml

http://www.erowid.org/plants/datura/datura-faq.html

Email me at ameth01@rochester.rr.com

My AU series can be found at The Persuaders Archives here:

http://www.geocities.com/ladyeleri/amethyst.html

http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Aurora/8903/index.html

or my personal site at:

http://www.arkwolf.com/amethyst/index.html

Turning over onto his back, Blair let a soft sigh of contentment escape his mouth before the burning discomfort in his bottom registered on his sleep-clouded mind. Quickly spinning back over onto his stomach, the sigh turned into a muffled moan, brought on more by memories than actual pain.

Grounded. He was GROUNDED. At age 23, he was grounded, again, and likely to stay grounded for a very long four weeks. No reprieve in sight, not with his health now in question.

Damn Doctors! Damn blood tests! Damn Sentinels! Damn fathers! Damn, stupid---ME! When will I ever learn not to try and hide anything from Jim? Auugh! He always finds out and I ALWAYS regret it! Me and my butt!

Running his hand experimentally over his backside, Blair flinched and then gently rubbed at the aching flesh. Sparing a bleary glance at his alarm clock, he started when his eyes finally focused on the large, glowing numbers.

10:40am! What the heck! Jim said he wanted me to go into the station with him today! I can't believe he overslept! Maybe he changed his mind! Maybe I have the day to myself after all!

Slipping onto his side, Blair raised himself up on his hip and scooted to an unsteady standing position. Bracing himself on the nearby wall for a moment, he slowly regained his sense of balance and his sleep-blurred vision cleared to normal.

Shuffling out to the hall, he made his way to the bathroom and then into the kitchen, keeping an ear open to detect any sign of activity other than his own within the loft. The monitoring came to an abrupt halt when he noticed a large note taped to the coffee maker. Grabbing the paper off the much-needed appliance, he held the paper close for a better view.

Chief,

Decided to let you sleep in. You need it and more. I'll call and stop by on my lunch break to pick you up. Be sure you eat breakfast. Forget about the coffee, Dr. Arden said to cut back on the caffeine. There is juice and fresh fruit in the refrigerator. Make sure you have everything you need for the day ready when I get there. That includes your schedule for the semester.

Jim

Well, so much for the idea of a day to myself. I should have known better. He's not going to let me out on my own if he can help it. Not until I prove to him I can be responsible about myself. Well. Juice, fruit and cereal it is.

Quickly finding spoon, bowl and cereal box, Blair set about making breakfast. Cornflakes with sliced peaches, milk and a glass of orange juice. Knowing he would be sitting on his sore butt all afternoon, breakfast was eaten standing up. After washing up his dishes and wiping down the counter, he set about finding his needed supplies for the day. Stuffing laptop, research materials, rough drafts and notes into his backpack, he reluctantly pulled out his schedule for the summer term and stared balefully at it.

Seven weeks of his own classes and teaching courses, added classes and office hours for three weeks, his own office hours and department meetings, combined with article publishing and submission deadlines proved to make a very full schedule. It would take an hour to draw up and organize the entire seven weeks worth of obligations. It would take forever to make 20 copies of it. Make that 19 copies. Surely the original would count as one, wouldn't it?

God, I'd kill for coffee right about now. Naomi would insist on making a cup of some exotic, little known tea. Like tea could cure everything. Make the world right with a cup of flavored hot water, meditation and candles. Right. Like it made her world so wonderful. Yeah, tea, meditation, candles and no Blair. Worked for her every time!

I need coffee! Maybe I could run down to the bakery downstairs and buy a cup. It's only 11:35am. Jim almost never gets away for lunch before 12:30-1:00. He'll never know I had some if I brush my teeth, gargle and don't use the coffee maker! Besides he said he'd call before he came to get me. The doctor said to cut back on caffeine, not eliminate it all together! One cup can't hurt! Clothes, man! I need clothes! Get a move on, Sandburg!

A mad dash for the bathroom, a quick shower and a sprint to his room resulted in a more than slightly damp, slightly disheveled grad student dressed in soft washed jeans, gray T-shirt and a gray cardigan streaking for the loft door. He paused to perch on the back of the sofa, slipping on the new Nikes Jim had gotten him as part of his birthday present a few weeks ago.

Running his hands down the legs of his jeans to smooth out the wrinkles as he stood, Blair suddenly realized that every piece of clothing he had on was something the older man had gotten for him or personally owned. The jeans were a gift at the same time as the sneakers. The sweater just showed up on his bed one day a few months ago during a cold snap of spring weather and the T-shirt was Jim's, borrowed weeks ago and never put back in the laundry basket that went upstairs after the usual washings.

Suddenly filled with a sense of warmth and security, a feeling he could only describe as 'home', Blair grinned to himself and searched his pockets for change and wallet. He never remembered feeling like this growing up with Naomi. 'Home' was a four-letter word to his mother, right up there on the black list with 'stay' and all other blasphemous words.

A dark cloud settled around his heart at the thought of his mother, spoiling his mood. Finding out she had lied to and deceived him most of his childhood had been devastating. Thank God, Jim had been there to bridge the gap between the two of them. He still wasn't sure if he could forgive her. The tight ache in his chest when he thought about her sending him to school and away to college so early in his life simply to get him out of her life, threatened to squeeze the very breath out of him at times.

Deliberately turning his thoughts to Jim and his present life helped to slowly ease the pain. Okay, so having someone care about you and care 'for' you wasn't so bad, even if it included rules and restrictions.

Even if I CAN'T sit in one position for too long today. Got to remember to ask if that cushion is still in Jim's drawer. I have the feeling I'm going to need it today.

Damn, I'm like so tired! I slept for like 10 hours and I'm still tired! Coffee! I need coffee! If I hurry, I can drink it down at the bakery and run back up here to brush my teeth and grab my stuff before Jim even gets close to a break. The loft won't smell like coffee and there won't even be a used cup. Naomi can take her herbal teas and stuff them. Everybody needs coffee in the morning, especially if they are anemic! What was the Big Guy thinking?

Blair grabbed his keys from the basket by the door as he flew into the hall; the memory of the bakery's fresh ground Jamaican blend fueled his exit. The ringing of the loft phone never reached him as he rounded the stairs on the second floor. He made it to the lobby in record time, slipping out the entrance and down two doors to his goal. Managing to arrive before the first of the heavy lunch crowd, he ordered a large coffee with cream to go and snagged a small corner table to sip his treat for a few minutes. A sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips at the first sip of the heavenly brew.

Engrossed in one of his favorite hobbies of people watching, he started when he eyes drifted to the large clock on the wall and he realized 15 minutes had passed. Grabbing his half-empty cup, he launched himself at the exit and rounded the turn into the apartment entrance at top speed. The exact same speed at which he smacked into a wall of granite. A wall that looked exactly like Jim. Glared like him, too. Must be the coffee all over his shirt. Fumbling to nonchalantly dispose of the cracked Styrofoam cup and wipe the warm liquid from the broad chest before him with a crumpled napkin, Blair smiled innocently at the large man, never quite meeting the pale eyes.

"Hey, Jim! I-I thought you were going to call?"

Large hands caught and stilled the nervously fussing smaller ones as they moved repeatedly over the stained areas on Jim's clothing. A strong hand wrapped itself around a thin bicep and began to draw the young man into their apartment building. Releasing his hold on the wide-eyed form beside him, the detective stared silently down at his companion as they waited for the elevator. Blair's gazed darted around the lobby and his level of fidgeting began to rise the longer the big man stayed quiet. Anxiety won a short-lived battle with patience and a tentative soft plea slipped out as the elevator doors closed.

"Jim?"

A controlled, calm voice answered him and Blair felt a sensation of foreboding begin to grow in his stomach.

"We'll talk when we get in the loft, Chief."

Blair blinked rapidly to help calm his rising unease and bit down on his lower lip to silence any further comments. No need to add to the already pathetic circumstances, Einstein. Kind of hard to hide the coffee when Jim is covered in it. So much for my simple yet brilliant plan to sneak some caffeine.

Once back inside the loft, Blair made a slow sideways shuffle towards his room under the watchful stare of the older man. The young student stammered out an explanation as he tried to disappear to retrieve his backpack.

"I-I ate breakfast. Cereal, peaches and some OJ just like you suggested. I just slipped downstairs to grab a quick cup of coffee. Dr. Arden really just recommended cutting back on caffeine. I only drank half of it anyway. Less than half of it. Everybody needs a little caffeine in the mornings. Just to get the juices flowing, man. I have everything packed and ready. We can leave anytime you're ready, Big Guy. I'm all set for the afternoon. Computer, papers, schedule, I'm ---"

"Take a breath, Chief. Go get your pack."

Calm, pale blue eyes betrayed none of the anger the tightly controlled voice conveyed. Blair swallowed hard and slipped into his room, emerging seconds later with his fully packed bag. Coming to a stop before the older man, he tentatively glanced up to make eye contact for a moment. Dropping his tone to a soft level barely above a whisper, Blair tried to smooth the coming stormy waters.

"It was just a cup of coffee, Jim."

"I know, Chief."

Blair stared at the floor and absently kicked at the side of one shoe with the toe of his other sneaker, seemingly captivated by the soft thudding sound the action made.

"I'm sorry I spilled it on you."

"It was an accident. Don't worry about that."

Glancing at the side table and noting the flashing of the red message light of the phone, the young student sucked in a deep ragged breath to steady his voice.

"I must have missed your phone call when I was downstairs?"

"Yeah, I guess you must have."

Agitation vibrated through the smaller body and forced it to begin a nervous bounce. Confusion as much as frustration colored the youth's hurried explanation.

"It was just coffee! I got a cup of coffee! Why do I feel so nervous over a damn cup of coffee? I only drank half of it! It can't be the caffeine, man!"

Jim reached out and rested a calming hand on a bouncing shoulder. Slowing the nervous gesture down to a rhythmic shudder under his palm, the big man caught Blair's chin with his free hand and tilted the tired, anxious face up to stare into confused dark blue eyes.

"It was just coffee, Chief. You shouldn't have had it but it was just coffee. Slow down a little here and tell me what's got you so jumpy. What were you thinking about before I got here? School? This case Simon put us on? What the Doctor said? Your grounding? What? Come on, help me out here."

Blair began rubbing his right index finger around and around the first knuckle of his right thumb, worrying the callus there.

"Yeah, I was thinking about all that for a minute or so. I-I was remembering you bought me these shoes and jeans for my birthday and the sweater when it got cold this past spring and how much I--I like having a home now. Then I got to thinking about not ever having a feeling of 'home' before and I remembered everything that happened lately. And I was thinking about my-my mom."

The last sentence tapered off into a hesitant whisper as if the young man was fearful his words would invoke retribution from some corner of the world. Wide, fearful eyes sought out comfort from the face of the tall man in front of him and immediately found it, as well as understanding.

"You're still mad at her."

A half nod answered as tears suddenly welled up in the rapidly blinking eyes of his young charge. A strangled whisper escaped with a sob.

"I guess."

Jim pulled the slender figure close to his body and wrapped both arms around the distraught young man. Gently carding his fingers through the mass of unruly, damp curls, he softly reassured his charge.

"It's okay to be angry with her, Chief. She thought she was doing something good for you. She just didn't think it all the way through. Naomi tends to see the surface of a situation and forgets to look beneath the top layer of fun to check if there might be a cost hidden under all those good intentions of hers. She loves you, she just doesn't do the long haul real well."

Blair pulled away from the warm embrace and paced a few feet into the living room, rubbing roughly at his moist cheeks.

"You're telling me, man! The 'long haul' for her usually lasts about 3 months, tops! She can think about everybody else's needs and desires, including her own, but mine hardly ever come into the picture. She is always so sure she knows what I'm thinking and what I want when she doesn't really have a clue. Never has, really. Sometimes, I wonder how she can be my mother!"

Jim gave an involuntary start at not only Blair's unknowingly truthful words but at the level of hostility present in them. Aware of the true facts about Blair's birth and Naomi's insistence that they be kept secret from Blair, Jim mentally berated himself for the hundredth time for promising not to reveal the information unless Blair's safety was at risk. Naomi's refusal to even discuss the situation with Blair was obviously upsetting the young man more than anyone had thought. Deciding to take a firm stance to head off any further emotional turmoil at the moment, Jim hardened his expression and his voice.

"Let's just slow down here, Chief! Being angry with Naomi is understandable but allowing that anger to push you in a wrong direction is not acceptable. You have to recognize that fact right now, young man!"

Blair's eyes sent out sparks of anger as he pulled his lips into a firm line of belligerence and came to an abrupt halt at the far side of the room.

"Fine! Don't try to understand! Take her side! IT WAS STILL ONLY COFFEE!"

"That's enough! Drop the attitude and lower your voice! It stopped being about coffee ten minutes ago. It's obviously really about a whole lot more. And I'm not taking anybody's side. We don't have time for this right now. We'll talk about it tonight." Jim moved quickly towards the staircase, stripping off his stained shirt as he walked. "I need to change my shirt."

"Fine! I'll go wait in the truck like a good little boy!" With an undisguised snort of disgust, Blair flew by him petulantly swinging his pack over his right shoulder. Jim halted his ascent to his room half way up the stairs.

"I remember what happened the last time you smarted off like that. Maybe you should just park it on the sofa until I'm ready to go, Chief." Jim watched as the young man blanched at the memory of his first meeting with Daniel Burke and his men. Wordlessly, Blair dropped to sit on the arm of the sofa, nervous energy momentarily dissipated. Jim quickly changed and returned to the living room.

"Grab your stuff and let's hit the road, Junior! Simon is expecting us."

Blair launched himself off the couch and out the door, barely glancing at his companion. Jim closed his eyes briefly and willed his rising temper to stay below the eruption point. Now was not the time to work this out. A short lunch break was not sufficient time to go into Blair's many insecurities created and nourished by his loving 'mother'. A month wouldn't be enough time. Jim mentally heard multiple explosions detonating all around him.

Just deal with the behavior at hand and save the rest of the minefield for later.

I hope Cascade PD has it's insurance premiums all paid up. It's going to be a rocky few weeks for everyone involved. Joel is going to regret his offer inside of 48 hours, 72 tops!

Closing and locking the door to their home, Jim followed his confused and hurting charge into the hall and out to the truck.

**********************************

Blair had lost much of his anger and belligerence on the short ride over from the loft. Once they reached the station, he was nearly back to his usual pleasant self. Only the high-speed chatter was missing. Sheepishly glancing up at his partner during the trip in the elevator to the seventh floor of the PD, the younger man tugged gently at the elbow of the detective's jacket. Turning to look down at his companion, Jim took in the open expression of regret and guilt playing across his charge's smooth face. Blair released his hold on Jim's coat and tried on a tentative half-smile.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I don't know why I blew up like that. It was so unfair. I'm really sorry. I-I guess maybe I'm still a little tired."

Jim landed a soft thump to the side of Blair's head and returned the smile.

"I know. Apology accepted, for now. We'll work the 'why' out at home. Let's just table it for now and see what we can do to help catch this killer, what do you say, Chief? Up for the mystery of crime fighting this afternoon?"

Surprise caused the young man's eyebrows to lift.

"I thought I had to copy my schedule first thing?"

"Nah, second thing. Simon wants you to have another look at those drawings left behind at the crime scenes. You haven't spent much time on them. He thinks they maybe our clue to the killer and I have a hunch he's right. Did you find out any more about the symbols on them?"

Blair reply was cut off as the lift opened and the two partners entered the bullpen. Both men were greeted heartily by the detectives present with a special interest on Brown and Rafe's part. Both men left their desks and practically escorted the two new arrivals to their workstations.

"Hey, babe! How are you, Hairboy? You helping out on this serial killer case today, too? Captain Banks is working up a head of steam on this one guys. Hope you wore your asbestos boxers today."

Concern took over Jim's features at the description of their boss. Simon had been adamant but not 'steaming' when Jim had left only an hour ago. Rafe joined the conversation, absently smoothing back his well-groomed hair in the process.

"Another body turned up 5 minutes ago. The Captain knew you were on your way so he said to wait until you got here. Something about dropping Blair off to work on the drawings while you and Joel head out to the scene."

Jim grimaced and glanced down at the young man at his side. Blair's open-mouthed expression of disbelief and hurt said it all. Being set in the background while Jim investigated a murder scene without him went against every instinct the guide had. Jim was sure he was going to hear all about it in detail. He wasn't disappointed. Blair's voice was barely controlled, breaking on several words in the strained effort not to raise his volume.

"No way, Jim. You need me, man. I'm not sitting on my butt, playing with drawings while you're out working a fresh murder scene for the first time. I need to be there with you. I'm your partner."

Jim settled a calming hand onto the vibrating shoulder and gave it a little shake.

"Let's just see what Simon has in mind, okay? Don't jump to any conclusions just yet."

Surprisingly enough, Blair clamped his mouth shut and turned to toss his pack on Jim's desk. Removing his notes from the previous time that he had examined the drawings, Blair sat down gingerly and silently began leafing through them, squirming noticeably on the too-hard seat.

Henri exchanged knowing glances with Rafe and they both gave Jim a slight smile of silent apology for having broken the news so abruptly. Jim sighed and nodded as the other two detectives slipped back to their desks.

Jim monitored the rapid heartbeat and shallow respirations of his charge for a few seconds before tapping the young man lightly on the head to get his attention. Blair looked up expectantly at the big man and waited, worry etched into every corner of his face. Jim's voice softened at the sight.

"I'll be fine. If it looks like I need you, I'll call and one of the uniforms will bring you right down, okay? These murders are pretty gruesome. I don't really want you around them unless you absolutely have to be. Even the pictures are the stuff nightmares are made of. Besides, we really need you to work on these drawings, now more than ever, Chief. I think they hold the clue we need and you're the best person to figure that out."

Blair swallowed hard and blinked several times before answering.

"Promise, Jim?"

"Promise. If I feel the least bit off, I'll call for you."

"I should be going with you."

"If I have to go back for a second look, you'll be the first one to know because you'll be right beside me. Deal?"

An audible swallow and a deep sigh of resignation answered him before the faint words reached his ears.

"Deal."

A large hand ruffled through his curls hard enough to shake his whole body. A lingering tap to the back of his head signaled the older man's acceptance and relief at the touchy subject having reached an agreeable, if temporary compromise. Simon chose that moment to poke his head out of his door and bellow to his returning detective.

"Ellison! My office, now!"

Jim sighed and headed off to the captain's office after receiving a reluctant little nod of acceptance from his unhappy partner.

As soon as Jim was safely behind a closed door, a soft guided missile thumped Blair on the top of his slightly bowed head. Pulling rapidly back from the desk in apprehension, the grad student's hands automatically reached out to catch the unknown object. A soft, square-shaped cushion landed in his lap. Looking up anxiously to scan the room for his attackers, Blair locked gazes with a smiling Rafe.

"I borrowed that from Jim's drawer last week when I hurt my butt apprehending that picket pocket. I thought you might like to have it back. These chairs get pretty hard after a few hours. It was nice, I just might have to pick up one of my own."

Nervously gauging the level of sincerity in the detective's smiling voice, Blair decided to accept the comfort offered graciously. Henri glanced up and silently gave Blair a two-fingered salute. Color rose in the student's cheeks despite the casual camaraderie and easy acceptance of the situation both older men radiated. A jerky little nod of appreciation was all Blair could manage as the realization dawned on him that both men knew he was sitting on a sore backside and undoubtedly guessed why and who had caused the soreness.

This day just keeps getting better and better! Now H and Rafe both know Jim spanked me! God, I think I'll die right here and now! At least they aren't laughing at me. And nobody made a rude joke. Didn't even make a big deal out of it, really. Maybe they don't think it's so unusual. I wonder if their dads ever spanked them. Maybe I could ask them, sometime, not now. Sometime much later than now. Sometime when I don't have to squirm to find a comfortable position to sit in. Sometime weeks from now. Hell, instead of holding this pillow, I might as well sit on it. No reason to be secretive now. Might as well be comfortable.

Noting both detectives had returned their attention back to their work, Blair stood and slipped the brightly colored cushion on to the chair's seat. Slowly lowering his body down to the surface of the chair, he let out a faint sigh of relief as the soreness in his bottom eased to a muted ache.

Just then, the two detectives both exited Simon's office. Jim quickly crossed over to Blair ready to reassure his anxious partner.

"Joel and I are heading out to the scene. It's over on Caulder by the warehouse district, Chief. I promise, if I need you I'll call. This is just a preliminary run through. We don't even know how long the body's been there. It could be a cold trail."

Worry, concern and anger all washed over the face before him. Jim reached out and tugged on a stray strand of hair to reassure his upset charge. Blair pulled his mouth into a hard line of disapproval.

"I should be there with you. Something about this just doesn't feel right! What if you have a spike? What if you need to focus on something? Is Joel going to be able to help you out? What if you zone? I'm your guide! I should be there!"

"Not now, Chief! I told you I would call if I needed you to come down. These bodies are being dismembered and stripped of their flesh. They're not even recognizable as people anymore. I don't want you around that if you don't need to be and that's final! I promised I'd call! Don't you trust me to keep my promise?"

Blair's face reflected the hurt surprise Jim's question produced.

"Yes, I trust you, Jim! You always keep your promises! I just think I should be with you!"

"Chief, be reasonable. If you had been in class right now, I'd still be going out on this call without you. If I needed to extend my senses or wanted better focus to nail down something, I'd call you or wait for you to finish up at the University and go get you. This isn't any different."

"Yes it is! I'm here! You don't need to wait! If you needed me, I'd be right there!"

Shaking his head in frustration, Jim pulled on his coat and glanced across the room to catch an expectant expression on Joel's face across the room. Turning quickly and striding to the bullpen doors, Ellison firmly called out to his partner.

"If I need you, you'll be right here. End of discussion."

Both detectives vanished from the room. Anger and frustration momentarily blinded Blair as he stared at the evidence photos before him. Closing his eyes and concentrating to put his breathing back under control, he slowly let the almost overpowering emotions wash over him and settle in a back part of his mind. Reluctantly, Blair stared down at the notes and pictures before him on the desk.

Okay, Sandburg. He doesn't have to have you in his hip pocket all the time. He's right. If I had been at school, he would have taken the call first and gotten me if he needed me. Never mind the fact that I'm right here. He's just concerned about exposing you unnecessarily to the gory details. It has nothing to do with your being grounded. He'd feel the same way no matter what. Grow up! Appreciate his thoughtfulness. Fuck! He left me behind, damn it!

Slamming his notes down on the desk, Blair took a deep breath and reluctantly turned his attention to more constructive, if boring, activities. Reorganizing the photocopies of the drawings in the order they first appeared with the bodies, he carefully filed his scribbled notes in the same order.

Every drawing left behind at the scene of each murder was a jumbled mass of primitive sketches, obvious crude attempts at glyphs of some sort. The artwork was poor to begin with but the condition it was found in made it even more difficult to decipher. Each blood-soaked piece of paper was found lying in the bottom of a crude gourd-like container placed over the slashed neck of the victim. The containers had been filled with the victim's blood as it gushed from the final mortal wound. The victims, all physically active twenty to twenty-five years old, muscular men had been tortured and strips of flesh had been cut from their bodies while they still lived. At least that is what the physical evidence suggested. The missing flesh was never found. Forensics stated it was taken from areas where muscle attached to bone, removing the meatiest part of the body.

Something struck Blair as faintly familiar about the missing flesh. It was the same on each victim, all stripped from shoulders, backs and thighs, thick muscle and little fat. The meatiest part of the body. Suddenly the crude drawings snapped into focus and Blair swore under his breath.

Holy shit! I know this language! At least I know what culture it came from! I can't believe it took me this long to recognize it! Let me see if I can break these down into recognizable sections. Then I can scan them in and cross-reference them with a language search vehicle and try and make some sense of them! Oh my God!

Hurriedly accessing Jim's computer, the grad student pulled up University files and began the familiar task of reaching little known facts from centuries ago, in cultures long forgotten and barely understood. Forty minutes later a strangled gasp exploded from behind the monitor.

"Oh my God, Jim! I need to get to Jim!"

Jumping up from the desk and frantically searching the bullpen for a friendly face, Blair was immediately disappointed. Both Brown and Rafe were missing and even Rhonda was gone from her desk. Knowing he could catch a ride from one of the patrol cars regularly leaving the garage, he headed out for the lower levels of the building, never even stopping long enough to grab his jacket or leave a note.

Simon exited his office in time to see the back of the young observer as it flashed out of the bullpen. Glancing at the coat rack behind Ellison's desk, he noticed Blair jacket hanging on the hook.

Good! He must be taking a bathroom run or getting a drink. It takes more than one pair of eyes to keep track of that boy!

Returning to his office with a satisfied smile on his face, Simon mentally congratulated himself for keeping a close eye on the wayward young man.

******************************

Jim and Joel arrived at the murder scene and mentally prepared themselves for the grisly display they knew awaited them. The last three murder sites has been gruesome and disturbing. This one was sure to be the same. Meeting up with the officers who were first called to the scene, they spent a fair amount of time questioning them and examining the surrounding building before steeling themselves for the shock of the mangled corpse. Eventually it was time.

Entering the third building on Caulder Avenue by the side entrance, Jim flashed back to the last time he had been in this same building, the night Daniel Burke and his men returned Blair after kidnapping him. The vision of his guide, injured, drugged and unconscious; draped in a huge blanket and presented to him like a poorly wrapped gift flashed through his mind along with a heavy sense of foreboding.

He's safe! Blair's back at the station. Simon, Brown and Rafe are with him and he's safe! Shake the feeling off! He's all right! Concentrate on this case. Dial it up and get busy before another person dies!

Both men continued on into the warehouse and approached the cluster of uniformed officers and detectives centered around an unrecognizable mass on the floor. Dark puddles stained the concrete floor and the overwhelming stench of body waste, old blood and decomposing flesh permeated the still air.

As the sentinel cautiously nudged up his sense of sight and turned down his sense of smell, an unidentifiable scent assaulted him. It was rich and cloying, winding around his olfactory nerves and climbing right up into his brain.

A patrol car pulled up outside the open side door and a small tornado burst from one of the back doors. A wild mass of disheveled curls and flying arms and legs skidded to a halt just inside the doorway. Blair watched in horror as Jim suddenly staggered and then hit the rough concrete on his knees.

"Jim! JIM! Oh my God! JIM!"

Blair landed heavily beside his sentinel, ignoring the rough scrapes the gritty concrete gave his knees and palms. Small, square hands gripped the larger man's arms and touched his face, trying hard to draw the confused sentinel's attention to his guide. Instinctively the sentinel reacted, despite his disoriented state.

"Chief? What are--?"

Jim's hands flew up to cover his nose and mouth. The room spun and the sunlight filtering through the dirt-caked windows danced and flared to a brilliant intensity, blinding him. Nauseated, his stomach rolled and bile rushed up to explode in the back of his throat. A band tightened on his upper arm and pulled demandingly at him. Muffled squeaks and growls skirted the edges of his hearing as more bands tightened painfully around his hypersensitive arms and body. The pressure was unbearable. Unable to break free from the constricting forces, blinded and deaf, the disoriented sentinel escaped the only way open to him, and slipped semi-conscious to the filthy cement floor.

Wild eyes, full of panic and terror met Joel's as he glanced at Blair while gently helping to ease Ellison's limp body to the ground. Shifting quickly to a sitting position the young observer took his partner's head and cradled it on his lap.

"Blair! Thank God you're here! I don't know why you're here, but thank God you are!"

"What happened, Joel? Did he touch something? Smell something? Did he say anything at all to you?"

Fear was evident in the young man's rushed words and jerky gestures. Joel patiently placed a calming hand on the slight back beside him. Several officers had responded to Joel's call of distress when Jim had staggered and one was now calling for an ambulance. Two others were adjusting the motionless man's limbs to a more comfortable angle.

Blair continued running his hands over Jim's short hair and down the sides of his face, comforting his sentinel and alerting him to his presence, waiting for Joel to answer.

"Joel! Please, answer me! Did he say anything to you, anything at all? I have to know!"

"No, Blair, he didn't. He went down practically as soon as we came through the door. He just fell to his knees, covered his mouth and nose and then he went out. You got here just as it happened, I swear!"

"He covered his face? Is there a flower or a plant with the body or nearby? Green, leafy, with white or pink flowers?"

One of the first officers at the scene was kneeling at the fallen detective's feet and he spoke up.

"Yeah, there is. A pink one in a bowl that was lying in the--where the--on the neck area of the victim. How did you know?"

Blair blinked rapidly at the man and nervously tucked a strand of hair out of his face as he thought of an acceptable excuse for Jim's reaction.

"Because Jim has bad allergies to certain flowers. This is the worst I've ever seen though. Could you get forensics to bag it and remove it ASAP? Please? The scent is probably still heavy in the air in here with no ventilation. We really need to move him outside, Joel."

The officer nodded, accepting the explanation and hurried off to have the plant removed. Joel motioned to two nearby men and the limp form of their co-worker was lifted, carried to the parking lot and settled on the ground on top of a blanket that appeared from a nearby patrol car.

Blair held his partner's head, refusing to break physical contact at any point in the process. Running a hand over the smooth forehead, the young grad student jerked in surprise at the intense warmth suddenly radiating from the flesh beneath his palm. Panic rose in his chest as the true extent of the emergency dawned on him.

"Joel! We need that ambulance now! Jim's burning up! It's a reaction to the plant! If we don't cool him down immediately he could die! I'm serious here, man! Touch him, he's burning up!"

The big detective lightly touched Ellison's rapidly reddening cheek and jerked back his hand in amazement.

"What the hell is going on here, Blair?"

"I told you, it's a reaction to the plant. It's a chemical hallucinogen. Even the fragrance has it. It's airborne in small amounts. Jim is just real sensitive to it. You know, an-an allergy."

"How did you know it was here?"

"That doesn't matter right now!"

Frantically the younger man began pulling at the big man's clothing, loosening his shirt and removing his jacket as best he could. Large hands reached down to help and the stubborn clothing disappeared from the unconscious man's upper torso as shoes and socks were also quickly shed. Blair unbuckled Jim's pants and began tugging at them. An amazed look from the older detective caused his defense mechanisms to flare.

"Do you want him to die? What is being in your boxers in public compared to that? Besides he's unconscious and it's me he'll kill if he lives through this. I'm willing to risk it!"

Multiple hands reached out to help and Jim was soon clad only in boxers. Waves of extreme heat continued to radiate from every inch of his skin. Blair ran a soothing hand repeatedly over the fevered brow murmuring soft words of comfort and reassurance to the man in his lap.

Sirens sounded in the distance as a small crowd of fellow officers gathered near the unfolding drama, subconsciously guarding their stripped team member from casual sight.

"Jim! Can you hear me, man? Come back to me, okay? Listen to my voice. You're going be okay, I swear, man. Come on, Big Guy. I'm right here. I'm not leaving you. I'm so sorry! I should have spent more time on the file and less time trying to work ahead with my schoolwork. Then I'd have known about the plants and the drawings and--and everything if I'd just have done what I was supposed to do. I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Blair murmured into the short hair under his cheek and lightly stroked the still redden skin on Jim's neck and chest. An ambulance screamed to a stop several feet away and the back doors popped open to release two attendants and a stretcher.

Blair refused to be separated from his roommate and clung to one motionless, red hand throughout the examination and transport of the detective. Hurriedly informing the medics of his concerns and suspicion regarding their patient's condition, he insisted the physician at the receiving emergency room be informed immediately so proper treatment could be started upon arrival. His desperate plea was backed up with enough medical terminology and conviction that the seasoned EMTs were convinced to listen to the young man. In less than three minutes the ambulance was under way to Cascade General.

***************************

Simon strode through the automatic doors to the emergency room and towered over the secretary seated at the nurse's station. Recognizing the police Captain, no words were needed. Smiling up at the familiar black man, the woman merely

pointed to the trauma room and waved her hand in permission to go ahead in.

Simon nodded wordlessly in thanks and plowed through the hall to the open doorway. He heaved a sigh of exasperation and plain frustration at the sight before him. IV's ran into both of his best detective's arms, a light sheet the only covering of the muscular body, a heart monitor beeped quietly in the background and an oxygen mask covered most of the flushed face partially obscured by brown curls. Ice bags peeked out from under the fevered man's armpits and his neck, and a cooling blanket under the detective hummed discreetly at the foot of the gurney.

Blair lay half folded over the head of the stretcher, forehead and cheek resting tightly against the older man's neck and shoulder. His right arm draped around Jim's head clutching the man's bare right shoulder, his left arm alongside Ellison's, fingers of each hand tightly entwined, resting on the bare, broad chest. A muffled sniffle escaped the bent form, eyes closed tightly to the outside world. Blair snapped his head up as a weight landed on his quivering shoulder.

"Blair, son? It's me, Simon. How are things?"

Eyes blurred with tears met the captain's concerned gaze. The young guide struggled unsuccessfully to remain calm and keep his voice from cracking.

"Oh, man. Simon! This is all my fault! If I had just done what Jim told me to do, I'd have known about this, been prepared for it! It's my fault!"

"How can this be your fault, Blair? You weren't even supposed to be there, for Christ's sake! Just calm down and explain all this to me!"

Simon gripped the slight shoulder beneath his hand more tightly and gave the boy a gentle shake. Blair lowered his head back down next to his sentinel, oblivious of the big man's request for more information. The young man was spared an additional shake as the ED physician walked through the door. Extending his hand in recognition, Dr. Walters greeted the police captain warmly.

"Captain Banks, how are you? We keep meeting under the same circumstances, unfortunately."

"I'm fine and you're right. One of us needs a new line of work. Or both of us need a hobby that gets us out more."

Simon grimaced and shook hands with the physician. It seemed like every time either one of his best team was hospitalized, Dr. Walters was the lucky man working. Everyone in the room was well acquainted with each other. That was undoubtedly why Blair had been allowed to remain at Jim's bedside unchallenged.

"Detective Ellison is recovering nicely. His exposure to the poison was brief, but given his sensitivity to so many agents his reaction was dramatic, but not unlikely. We have the hyperpyrexia under control now; his core temperature is down to 103F and his blood pressure has stabilized. He'll be staying over night, of course." Simon wrinkled his brow in confusion.

"What the heck is hyperpy-whats its? What happened to Jim's blood pressure?"

Dr. Walters sighed and put his hands in his pockets. Glancing meaningfully at the huddled figure by the bed, he stepped further away from the stretcher and it's occupants.

"I thought maybe Blair had updated you already. I should have realized he is too upset just yet. Detective Ellison was poisoned by an exotic plant called datura brugmansia or 'Angel's Trumpet'. The scent alone is known to affect some people, though I've never heard of a reaction as violent as your friend's was. But then, he is unique with some of his allergies. The plant contains a scopolamine base element that is present even in its aroma. In low doses it affects coordination, hearing, judgement, perception, sensory analysis, speech, and vision. But in high doses it causes dizziness due to extreme vasodilatation of the blood vessels, severely dry mucous membranes, photophobia from pupil dilation and hyperpyrexia- a super heating of the body. All very damaging side effects. Your detective's temperature was 107F when he arrived."

Simon's startled double take and hushed tone conveyed his stunned disbelief.

"My God, he could have died!"

"Yes, he would have. The only reason he didn't was Blair's quick thinking and recognition of the problem and how to deal with it. He actually stripped Detective Ellison down to his boxers in the parking lot of the warehouse in 65-degree weather and refused to let the EMTs cover him. They radioed ahead with the information Blair provided and I had the plant researched by the time he got here. Luckily the proper drugs to combat it are common, dexamethasone, propanolol, and physostigmine, and we had them ready when he arrived. Minutes made the difference here. That young man saved his friend's life, no doubt about it."

"I'll be sure and remind him of that. Right now he seems to be blaming himself for this whole thing for some reason."

"I know. He keeps apologizing. I haven't figured out what for. Detective Ellison will recover fully. He'll probably be released tomorrow, barring any complications. I think I'll turn the little one over to you, though. I'll handle the big one."

"That's not fair, yours is asleep."

Dr.Walters grinned and slapped the tall man on the shoulder. Nothing about his body language conveyed even a hint of regret.

"My ER. We meet on your turf, you get to pick. Besides, mine makes two of yours." Simon rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. Squaring his shoulders and pulling in a deep breath, he turned to face his two men.

"Maybe in size, but mine has four times the energy and none of the sense. It's still not fair."

"I think you can handle it, Captain. He's just a boy."

"You've never taken a walk in the Sandburg zone, Doctor. He's what is referred to as 'high maintenance' in the caretaker world." Simon ran a paternal gaze over the huddle form and dropped his frustrated tone to a soft mutter. "But he's worth it."

Dr. Walters smiled and left the three men alone with a promise to return to check on the patient before he was transferred to a regular room. Simon quietly advanced on the stretcher and lay a large hand on the bent back of his young observer. Rubbing small circles over the thin form, he tried to sooth the distraught youth, silently lending his strength as they waited for the motionless man before them to regain consciousness and right the tilt their world had suffered.

***********************

Several hours had passed since the discovery of the fourth murder victim and the investigation was well underway. Carolyn's forensics group had confirmed the identity of the offending plant that Jim had been affected by. Joel greeted Simon outside of Jim's hospital room.

"Hey, Simon. How's our boys?"

Gratefully accepting the large cup of coffee offered to him, Simon sipped appreciatively at the brew before answering.

"Jim's going to be all right. His temperature is down to near normal and they've stopped the medication that was keeping his blood pressure up. The doctor says he might need to wear sunglasses for a day or two to protect his eyes until his pupils react better and his mouth will be dry for few days, but other than that he'll be fine. He's still asleep."

Joel sighed with relief, rubbing a massive hand over his worried, round face.

"God, I'm glad to hear that. He scared the shit out of me back there. Thank God, Blair showed up when he did. Those two never stop amazing me. How did the kid know to be there? Speaking of which, how is Blair?"

Simon shook his head and leaned back against the wall by the closed door.

"Just the way you'd think he'd be. Devastated and inconsolable. He seems to think he's responsible for the whole thing for some reason. How he was supposed to know about it, I haven't gotten out of him yet. I was waiting until you got here to spell me so I could take him home and get this all straightened out. Of course, Jim has to wake up first or I'll have to carry the kid out of here kicking and screaming. Not something I'm looking forward to having to do."

Joel nodded in sympathy and gestured toward the room.

"Blair almost lost the man he thinks of as his father. He'd be lost without Jim. I'm not surprised he's this upset. I'll just check on Jim for a minute. Why don't you take a short break, find a bathroom or candy machine or something."

"I think I will. I'll need all the energy I can get to face this next part. I'll be back in fifteen minutes or so. Thanks, Joel."

Pushing off the wall, the weary captain strode down to the elevators and disappeared. Joel cautiously opened the door to Jim's room and peeked in. The sight that greeted him made him furrow his brow with sympathy for Simon.

Jim lay propped up on two pillows, a light blanket over his gown-clad form, a single IV site still pumping fluids into his left arm. His complexion had returned to normal and his face was relaxed and smooth, all evidence of his earlier ordeal gone. The lights were dimmed in anticipation of his awakening, throwing the room into twilight.

On Jim's right, half-curled in chair pushed up against the side of the bed, Blair sat bent over with the top of his head touching his roommate's side. The fingers of both his hands tightly grasped the older man's upper arm on either side of his disheveled head. A fine shudder could be easily detected every few seconds.

Joel entered the room, calling out softly to the young man to alert him of his presence, giving him time to lift his head and wipe at his wet, flushed cheeks.

Pushing himself upright, Blair turned his head to smile weakly at the big, gentle, black man who walked over and placed a warm, consoling hand on his shoulder.

"Hi, Blair. How's it going, son? Jim awake yet?"

Tucking his hair back behind an ear, the young observer wiped at his blurry eyes and cleared his throat twice before attempting to answer the detective. One hand never left Ellison's arm.

"Hi, Joel. Jim's going to be all right. The doctor was just here a little while ago and he said he could go home tomorrow as long as everything stays good tonight. He just-just hasn't woken up yet. I'm sure he will soon."

Joel patted the kid's back twice and moved around to stand at the opposite side of the bed. Taking in the swollen, red-rimmed eyes, running nose and lost little boy look on the young man's face caused the big man's chest to tighten. Joel watched as small fingers clenched and unclenched erratically on the sleeping man's motionless arm, a good outward indicator of the level of anxiety coursing though the abnormally still body on the other side of the bed.

"He's going to all right, Blair. You couldn't have known is would happened. It wouldn't have been any different if you had been with us. It happened so suddenly, no one could have prevented it, son."

For the first time, Blair broke contact with his partner and launched himself out of the chair with such force Joel stepped back from the bed in surprise.

"I could have prevented it! I should have prevented it! If I'd have done what Jim told me and paid more attention to the case and showed up for the scheduled meetings and looked at the file Jim and Simon asked me to, that I agreed to look at, I'd have been prepared!"

Joel shook his head in denial and dropped his voice to even lower than his normal quiet, calming tones.

"You couldn't have known, Blair! That's not possible!"

Blair's pacing increased as his agitation level climbed. His voice broke every few words. Both hands ran repeatedly though his riotous hair, tangling his fingers in the curls, tugging painfully at them in frustration and self-loathing.

"Yes, I could have! It was all right there! I'd have known about the plant being at each murder scene, what it would do, that Jim would probably be affected! This is all my fault!"

A soft stammered noise interrupted the frantic tirade before Joel could respond. Blair flew back to his spot at his sentinel's side, resuming his earlier two-handed grip on the big man's arm.

"Jim? Jim, man, are you there?"

Jim reached up to shield his eyes with one hand and groped in the air with the other trying to find a part of the young guide's body to make contact with. Anxious hands grabbed his in midair and held on tightly.

"Hey, Chief. It's all right, I'm here. Just a little groggy. What happened? "

"Oh my God, Jim. I'm sorry, man. I'm so sorry. That plant that was left behind with each of the bodies is a hallucinogen; even just its aroma can affect some people. You reacted pretty badly to it. I'm so sorry I didn't do what you told me! If I had, I would have known not to let you get near it! I could have prevented this from happening!"

Cracking one eye open to focus on his distraught guide's face, Jim pulled the young man closer and moved his hand from Blair's grasp to slide it around the youth's neck. Giving the slender form a small shake, he poured all the authority he could muster into his slightly hoarse voice.

"Stop right there, Chief. You had no way of knowing anything was going to happen. It was my decision to have you stay at the station. Even if you had been there you couldn't have prevented whatever happened. So stop beating yourself up over this. If I recall properly, you showed up, apparently in time, anyway."

Blair leaned into the firm grip on his neck, moving his hand to wrap his fingers around Jim's wrist. Fresh tears threatened as he tried to push away his self-loathing and explain the problem. Simon's quiet arrival in the room gave him a few more moments to collect his thoughts.

Jim glanced briefly at the other two men in greeting then returned his one-eyed gaze back to his young charge. Blair closed his eyes and willed his raging emotions back down to a manageable level. Several deep breaths later, he opened his eyes and locked stares with his partner.

"I finally got serious about looking at those drawings and reading the reports in that file you and Simon asked me to look at earlier in the week. I-I looked at the drawings earlier, but I really didn't pay much attention to the written reports then. I mean, you wanted me to check out the sketches and help out with figuring out their significance, so I thought the reports weren't as important. I just kind of glanced at them, you know? After you and Joel left me behind at the station, I finally took the time to read the reports."

Simon shifted his weight impatiently and took the unlit cigar stub from his mouth, gesturing in the air with it.

"We've all read those reports. There's nothing in them that could have prepared Jim for this reaction to the plant. We've been over those reports a dozen times."

Blair hung his head and choked back a sob. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he raised his head and willed himself to look his sentinel in the eye.

"Yes, but I haven't! I was supposed to and if I had, I'd have recognized the significance of the forensic report about the bodies ritualistic stripping of the flesh. I'd have recognized the description of the plant found near each victim. It's called 'Angel's Trumpet' or 'Devil's Weed'. It's widely used by shamans in ancient cultures for inducing visions. It's a well-known fact it has a powerful aroma capable of affecting some people just by being in the same room with it. With Jim's -- sensitivities to things, I knew as soon as I saw it in the report that he was going to have trouble with it. That it was bound to be there. It was at every murder scene. If I had done what I should have when you asked me to, this would never have happened to you. Oh God, I'm so sorry, Jim! Please forgive me! I promise I'll do what ever you tell me from now on! No questions asked!"

"Hey! Hey, Chief! No impossible promises, okay? Neither one of us can expect that. You did figure it out and you show up to warn me! It wasn't your fault it was too late. You followed your instincts and tried to stop me from entering a dangerous situation. You did good, Junior. I'm here and I'm fine. So stop with this guilt thing you've got going here."

Joel stepped closer to the bedside and touched Jim's shoulder as Dr. Walters entered the room. He threw a meaningful glance at the distraught young observer at Ellison's side.

"Blair saved your life, Jim. He insisted we drag you outside immediately, away from the plant, and when you got so hot, he's the one who cooled you down."

Dr. Walters tucked Jim's chart under his arm and moved forward into the room to stand beside Blair's seated figure. Laying a solicitous hand on the young man's shoulder, he smiled proudly down into troubled dark blue eyes. Talking to the recovering detective but looking at his roommate, he tried to clarify Joel's explanation.

"Captain Taggert is right, Detective Ellison. Blair's quick thinking, his knowledge of the plant's possible severe effects and how to combat them, are what saved your life. That and the fact that he alerted the rescue staff to the problem and insisted that they contact the hospital so we would be prepared to treat you correctly immediately upon your arrival made all the difference in the outcome of your care. You should be very proud of him."

Blair hung his head as Ellison turned appreciative eyes on him. Reaching up to tug at the grad student's chin, Jim turned the sad face to meet his.

"Thanks, Chief! I love you, kiddo!" Jim pulled his young charge down into an one-armed hug and held him there, ruffling his hand thorough the brown curls affectionately. Blair's arms wound their way around Jim's pillow and chest as his head settled on a muscular shoulder. Simon furrowed his brow in confusion and confronted the smiling physician, demanding more facts about his best detective's condition.

"I don't understand this reaction Jim had. Why did his body get so hot? And even if his temperature did get as high as 108F, what would have happened to him? I've never heard of someone dying from just a high fever. Is that really possible?"

Dr.Walters lost his smile as a deadly serious expression replaced it. Stepping closer to the detective's bedside he gravelly nodded his head in confirmation.

"Yes, unfortunately, it is. It's not actually the fever that kills but its effects. If we get too overheated, over 108F, our blood starts to form tiny clots that stick to the artery walls. This uses up the clotting agents in the blood, so there is nothing to prevent bleeding. There are always tiny cuts inside our body due to the process of replacing old worn out cells with new ones. Normally, clots block these cuts. Above 108F, bleeding is unchecked because the clotting agents have been all used up. It can cause a stroke or internal hemorrhage."

Both large captains blanched slightly as the seriousness of the earlier situation dawned on them both. A small gasp escaped one of the figures on the bed as Jim tightened his grip on his young savior. A murmured, "thanks, Chief" was followed by the jerky bobbing of a curly head. Joel shook his head and gaped in wonder at the memory of Blair's frantic efforts to rid the big man of his clothing while still in the street.

"No wonder Blair stripped you to your skivvies in the middle of the road, Jim. He was like a body possessed. A couple of us finally helped him so neither of you would get hurt. As soon as I touched your skin, I knew why he wanted to do it but I couldn't figure out what happened to cause it. It's a good thing Blair knew and thought of a way to do something about it." A teasing smile light up the big man's concerned face. "I certainly wasn't about to suggests undressing you. I guess you're lucky he stopped at your skivvies."

Simon grinned at the mental image and then grinned bigger as the young man in question jerked partially upright to stare down as his comforter-turned-captor pinned him with a steely gaze.

"Ah, Jim, man! I-I had to do something! The next best thing was a cold shower but there wasn't one around, man! I did the best I could! A-a lot of the guys stood around, blocking you from view, man! You had on good boxers! And the EMT only whistled once when they saw you! It was a female EMT, I swear, Big Guy!"

Jim's hard gaze turned soft and slightly amused as the frantic agitation in his guide rose. Giving the forearms trapped in his firm grip a little shake he scowled up at his charge in the dim light of the room.

"I just have one question."

Blair licked his lips and squeaked out a reply.

"What's that?"

"Did you get her number for me, Junior?"

"JIM! I was a little busy!"

"I thought you were never too busy for that! I was the one unconscious, not you!"

Dr. Walters laughed and used the break in conversation to excuse himself. A blush rose in the young man's cheeks as Simon and Joel joined in with quiet laughter. A smile of relief flooded the anxious face as a grin settled on his sentinel's lips.

"Jeez, try and save a guy's life, and all I get is grief. Joel's right, you're lucky I left you your boxers."

Blair ducked his head as a well-timed swat landed on the side of it. He smile transformed into a grin as the welcome familiarity of the teasing helped to calm his nervous agitation and fear. He had been running on adrenaline since he realized the significance of the plant at the station and he hadn't come back down from the endorphin high yet. Sitting still was a monumental task achieved only by laying claim to his anchor, his sentinel, his father, by maintaining physical contact.

Tightening his grip on Jim's arm, he settled himself more comfortably at the detective's side, preparing to send the evening in that very spot. A look of understanding crossed Ellison's face mixed with disapproval. Blair read the expression instantly and readied his defense. Jim beat him to the punch.

"I want you to go home, Simon will take you. Get a good night's sleep then let one of the guys bring you back here in the morning. I'll need a few things from the loft to go home, Chief."

"Simon or Joel could get your stuff from the loft, couldn't you Simon? I don't want to go home, Jim."

Jim caught both older men's gaze. Joel patted Jim's shoulder and made a hasty good-bye dragging, Simon out of the room with him.

"We'll be waiting in the hall. Give you two a little time alone before the nurses throw us out. See you in the morning, Jim. I glad you're all right." Joel slipped toward the doorway as Simon pulled his unlit cigar stub from his mouth and seconded the thought.

"I'll be right outside. Take your time." Simon nodded meaningfully at his downed detective and strode out the open door behind Joel. Blair didn't even wait for it to close before he started to object.

"I want to stay here, Jim. It's only for one night! I won't get in the way. I'll stay right here, the nurse won't even know I'm here. I promise!" A note of pleading entered the final words as his eyes widened into his patented Bambi-eyed stare of innocence and need.

Jim silently thanked God his vision was blurred, lessening the effectiveness of that heart-wrenching expression. Listening to the trembling voice was difficult enough.

"No, Chief. I'm alive and doing fine. I'll be discharged first thing in the morning and then we're heading into the station to work on this case. I want you rested and ready to help me with it. To do that, you need to be at the loft, in your own bed, in our home, where you're comfortable and safe. Simon will take you. He'll probably even stay overnight if you want him to."

"I'm staying right here with you, man! Just get used to it!" Crossing his arms on his chest, the young guide pulled his mouth into a hard, determined line and settled himself more deeply into the cushion of the bedside chair. Blair refused to make eye contact hoping his surrogate father wouldn't see the nervousness beneath his bravado.

Jim arched a tolerant eyebrow at his charge and took a new line of persuasion. Pulling back the covers he pushed himself up to rest on his elbow as he shaded his still sluggishly dilated eyes from the dim lights of the room.

"Okay, Chief. Could you hand me my clothes out of the closet over there? I'll call a nurse to take out this IV."

Blair jumped forward in the chair leaving behind his false air of confidence and hurriedly reached out a hand to stop the older man from rising any further. Uncertainty and concern replaced his nervousness.

"Jim, what are you doing? You can't get dressed, man! You need to rest! The doctor hasn't discharged you yet!"

Jim dropped his feet to the floor and straightened up to sit on the side of the bed. Peering up at his now standing roommate, he focused one eye on the jittery figure.

"You insist on being with me, I insist you go home and get some sleep. You won't leave, then I won't stay. Pretty easy to follow, Einstein. My clothes, please."

"JIM! You can't leave! What if something happens to you? A rebound effect or something?"

"Guess you'll just have to bring me back, Chief. Can you hand me my pants?"

Blair pushed the big man's out stretched arm down and stood in front of him, one hand nervously pushing hair out of his face and the other gesturing wildly in the air as he ranted.

"Fine, Jim! Just, fine! I'll go home with Simon! But I am not going to get a good night's sleep with you here and me there, so don't even think that I will be all sunshine and light tomorrow when we pick your hard-headed body up in the morning! This is blackmail, pure and simple! Guilt is a wonderful thing for you, isn't it? I thought you were above this, man! Army Ranger, Cop of the Year, where is the 'honor in all things' now, Big Guy? I mean, I ----"

"Chief?"

Blair pulled his left hand through his riotous curls several times and began pacing back and forth in the small area beside the hospital bed, right hand drawing circles and punctuating sentences in the air.

"--know I screwed up with the reports and all. And I know this is partially my fault--"

"Chief, listen--"

"I should have listened to you and done--"

"CHIEF! Listen to me now!"

Startled into silence and immobility, Blair's eyes widened in surprise at the shouted words from his companion. An innocent expression greeted Jim's exasperated look of affection.

"What?"

"I want you to go home with Simon, get some rest, and come back in the morning with my over night gear. I'll call as soon as the doctor stops by and lets me go."

A soft tentative whisper answered him as his gaze fell to the floor.

"Okay, Jim. Am--am I in trouble?"

Reaching out his arm again Jim snagged the young man's wrist and pulled him down beside him on the bed. Placing both hands on the slender shoulders, Jim turned the slight body so he could see Blair's face in the dim light, tipping the square chin up.

"No, Blair, you're not in trouble over this. You were following your guide's instincts for his sentinel. You knew something was wrong and you got to me as fast as you could despite my having forbidden you to come down there. But you were right to come. You could have called me, but I'm not sure I would have taken you seriously about the potency of the plant. I've never run across anything like it before. Your being there saved my life."

A strong arm wrapped itself around Blair's body and hugged him close to the gown-clad body of his best friend and father. Blair returned the embrace full force. After a moment, the older man talked softly into an ear close to his mouth, never releasing his hold.

"You've had a rough day, Chief. I think you're starting to run a little fever here. You need to go home and rest up. Eat, shower, and go to bed. Simon will stay over. Sleep in my bed or your own, whatever makes you happy and comfortable. But go home. For me. I'll sleep better knowing you're taken care of. Got it?"

A shaky nod bumped against his chin and he briefly tightened his hug before releasing it all together. Blair stood up from the bed and automatically helped straighten Jim's blanket as he returned to bed. Fussing hesitantly with the top cover, Blair allowed his moist eyes to make contact with Jim's hooded ones.

"Love you. Night, Jim."

"I love you, too. Night, Chief." Jim pulled the retreating figure close and planted a soft kiss on the boy's forehead before pushing him toward the door. After one backward glance, the young man sighed and slipped out into the hall.

As Jim released his own sigh of frustration and weariness, his door popped back open and the scent of his boss filled the air before his concerned face showed up at Jim's bedside.

"Just wanted you to know, I'll take the kid home and stay with him tonight. It's not like it will be the first time I've had to babysit the little trouble magnet. I'll bring him by in the morning to pick you up. You sure you want to start right back on this case, Jim?"

"Yeah, Simon. I'm sure. I don't want anyone else to find another body like that one. Four is four too many. I'll be fine after a good night's rest. With you watching out for Blair, I'll sleep better. He's had a hard day and he hasn't come down from the rush yet. Make sure he eats and get at least a couple hours of sleep, if you can. He's wired but exhausted. Don't be surprised if he blows a little steam your way for my making him go home. Just don't let him explode."

Simon scowled and heaved a heavy sigh of exasperation but nodded his head in acknowledgement of the situation.

"You got it, Jim. No guarantees I won't wallop his backside a good one if he gets too out of hand though. It's been a long day for all of us."

"I hear you, Simon. Just be gentle. Ah, remember he's grounded. Oh, and make sure he takes some Motrin, he's running a slight fever for some reason."

"Gentle, grounded, Motrin, okay. Christ, Jim, you want to write this down? I don't think I know how to wallop gently, but I'll try. Goodnight, Jim."

"I appreciate it, Simon. Thanks. Goodnight."

The door slid closed cutting off Simon's exaggerated sigh and Jim reached for the bed controls to lower the head and turn off the dim lights completely. Sighing in satisfaction, he closed his aching eyes and followed the sound and rhythm of a familiar, loved heartbeat as it slowly faded out of the building and into the parking lot. After hearing Simon's car start, Jim turned down his hearing and allowed sleep to over take him, confident his extended family was caring for his immediate family.

************************************

"I don't need any pills, Simon, I'm fine! Just let me get some work done, all right? Why don't you just go home? I'm fine!"

The kitchen chair Blair was perched on suddenly spun on one back leg and the grad student found himself turning wide startled eyes on a very tall and very

large, angry-looking man. Blinking rapidly in an effort to contain his rising trepidation, Blair involuntarily leaned back further away from the scowling face inches from his own. A large hand reached around his shoulder and the distinctive sound of his laptop being forcibly snapped shut, a familiar sound, greeted his hearing. Blair decided not to turn around to look.

"That's it! I have coddled your smart little ass for the last hour and my patience is finally at an end! Listen to me, young man, and listen good! You will eat the food I have placed before you and you will eat it now! You will swallow the two tablets sitting on the table beside your plate and drink the entire glass of milk with them! Then you will shower and get ready for bed. Then you will go to bed and go to sleep! I will not hear another sound from you until you are ready to say "good morning, Simon, did you sleep well?" Is that clear or do I need to send you an email to get your attention?"

Blair stared in amazement as a vein in the big man's temple throbbed in time with the rhythm of his bellowed words. Fearing for the man's health, the observer raised both hands in defeat and nodded hurriedly at the adamant demands.

"Okay, okay, Simon! Just chill, man! You'll have a stroke! Then what will Jim say about your staying here to watch me when you end up in the hospital bed next to his?"

Simon pulled himself up to his full six foot five inches and glared down at his temporary charge. Pressing his lips into a firm line to keep from yelling loud enough to raise the roof off of the loft and momentarily closing his eyes, he slowly counted to ten. Then he counted to twenty, just in case. Letting out a long-suffering sigh of frustration, Simon opened his eyes to watch as the huddle figure before him sipped at the bowl of soup on the table.

With another deep sigh he reached out and gently spun the chair and it's occupant back to face the table. Blair continued slowly eating but remained wary of the imposing man's movements. Simon busied himself cleaning up the kitchen and periodically checking on his companion's progress. After finishing his soup and a few bites of a sandwich, Blair pushed away from the table and began to walk towards his room.

"Motrin. Now"

One word sentences. Shit! I think Simon and I've been down this road together before.

"I don't need them. I don't have a fever."

"Jim says you do."

"Maybe Jim's wrong. He wasn't exactly in top form when you both made me leave him tonight." Simon spotted the belligerence creeping into the young man's tone and body language in a second flat.

"And maybe, I can check your temperature myself to be sure. And since I'll have to be washing out that smart mouth of yours with soap and cold water first, I guess I'll have to check your temperature the only other way left."

Blair's eyes bulged in their sockets with disbelief, as he stood rooted to the spot he stood on.

"No way, man! You wouldn't!"

A deep, unforgiving growl rumbled out of the fed up older man, seemingly from his toes.

"Try. Me. Little boy."

An audible swallow was his only answer as the tablets were plucked from the table and washed down in record time. The empty milk glass teetered precariously on the edge of the table as the 'little boy' ducked into his room only to return seconds later, night clothing in hand, to disappeared again into the bathroom. Simon smiled to himself as the sound of water running in the shower soothed his own frazzled nerves.

Just as Simon finished cleaning up, Blair emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, hair damp and comfortable loose sweatpants and T-shirt on. Glancing hesitantly at the older man, Blair mumbled a few words in Simon's direction.

"What was that, son?" Simon turned and stepped closer to his observer, concern edging his expression. The young man nervously cleared his throat and bounced lightly on his toes, rubbing the knuckle of his right thumb obsessively.

"I said, I'm sorry. For being such a pain since we left the hospital. I didn't want to leave and I'm taking it out on you and it's not your fault. I know you're just trying to be a good friend, Simon, and you are. I'm just a little upset about everything today. I'm sorry."

Simon felt a smile break his carefully schooled mask of disapproval at the heartfelt words. Blair really was a sweet kid.

"Apology accepted. We've all had a difficult day. Let's just call it a night. A good six, eight hours of sleep and everything will look better. Why don't you turn in? I'll finish locking up and grab Jim's bag for in the morning. I know where he keeps it. Get some sleep, kid."

Blair nodded; wet hair slipping forward as a small hand automatically reached up to pushed it back. As he entered his room, a deep voiced called after him.

"And dry that hair before you get into bed!"

"Yes, Mom! Goodnight, Mom!" The sarcasm couldn't be missed but it could be ignored. Lights in the small room winked out and silence descended on that corner of the loft after a few minutes of rustling blankets.

"Wise-ass, little brat! Jim, my man, you have my utmost respect. I'm surprised the kid can sit down five days out of ten. He couldn't if I was around him 24/7. Next time we're out, I owe you a beer in recognition of your fortitude and strength! It must be a sentinel thing."

Shutting off the lights, Simon wearily climbed the staircase and prepared himself for bed. Dropping happily onto the large comfortable bed, he checked the bedside alarm and gratefully closed his eyes to the end of a very long and aggravating day.

The soft faint rhythmic tap-tap worked its way into Simon's dream as rain drops on a window. It startled him to wakefulness when it persisted as the sun shone on his peaceful and relaxing dreamscape. Rising quietly from his borrowed bed, the tall man cautiously edged near the railing of the staircase, service weapon drawn.

Leaving his gun on the nightstand and smothering an exasperated groan of misery, the weary man quietly but quickly descended the stairs. Two long strides later he snapped off a small portable lamp, closed the lid to Blair's laptop computer and yanked its owner out from in front of it. A heavy right hand landed a solid swat to an unprotected and unsuspecting backside resulting in a high-pitched yelp of pain and indignation. Simon silently goose stepped his captive into the downstairs bedroom and deposited him none too gently on his bed. Leaning ominously over the smaller figure, he hissed in a low voice.

"You were told to go to bed and stay in bed! It's 2 am, for God's sake! You may not need sleep, but the rest of us over the age of 25 in this world do! What the hell do you have to say for yourself, young man?"

Leaning out of the big man's personal space, Blair whispered back at the glowering giant looming over him. Only a trace of fear was evident in the young face despite a tingling bottom making him squirm slightly on the bed, reminding him of a possible ending to this little scenario based on history between the police captain and himself.

"Ah, good morning, Simon, did you sleep well?"

"Not good enough, little boy!"

A burst of impatient belligerence animated the anthropologist into verbal action.

"I couldn't sleep! I thought I'd make good use of the time and work on this case some! Even if I'm not good enough to go with my partner on a call! I'm trying to help!"

A large finger appeared in his direct line of vision and proceeded to wag back and forth an inch from his nose. Blair raised disbelieving eyes to meet Simon's squinting brown ones in the dim light of the 4-watt nightlight shining in the corner of Blair's room.

"You could help best by listening to what you're told. You're supposed to be sleeping more, resting more, eating more, and limiting the amount of stress you're exposed to! Did it ever occur to that undisciplined, erratic, but brilliant mind of yours that that is one of the reasons Jim has tried to keep you on the fringes of this case, limiting your exposure to the worst of it, keeping you away from the bodies and the scenes? Including you only in the meetings and discussions, asking you to concentrate on the intellectual, scholastic slant of the case? To use your best skills, research and analysis, and obscure cultural knowledge to help put an end to this madness without exposing you to the full nightmare?"

"Is that what he's been trying to do, protect me, not-not leave me out?" The voice was like a small boy's. Simon rolled his eyes and unconsciously softened both his stance and his tone of voice.

"Of course! He no more wants to leave you out of any part of his life than he wants your mother to move in next door!" Blair snorted in amusement at the big man's choice of words, envisioning Jim's face at the thought of Naomi living in the same state as they did.

"Okay, Simon, if you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure. Let's just get some sleep!" Simon pushed the grad student down onto the bed and tossed the covers up over the slender body. His hand grazed the pillow as he tucked in the edge of the blankets by Blair's shoulders. Cold and wet, the pillow was partially saturated from Blair's still-damp hair.

"I thought I told you to dry that mop of yours!" Exasperation and annoyance was clearly reflected in his voice.

"I always go to bed like this. It will dry by morning." A whining tone crept into his voice as he was propelled upward. Simon spied a towel draped haphazardly over a desk chair. Snatching it up, he tossed it over his captive's hair and began to briskly towel it dry.

"This is like déjà vu, Sandburg. Why is it every time I spend the night here I end it with a towel over your head. Must be wishful thinking by my subconscious, the need to stifle you in any manner available to me."

"Simon?" A muffle, tentative sound traveled out from under the shaking towel. Simon paused in his task and pulled the cloth off of the wild curls.

"What now?"

"Could you stop shaking my head?"

"No. I don't know any other way to get the water out of your hair short of a blow dryer. Sit still."

"I-I don't feel good, Simon." Blair's voice had a soft tentative edge to it as if he was reluctant to mention his condition.

"What's wrong?" Concern replaced the irritation in Simon's words. He immediately dropped the towel and reached out to snap on the bedside lamp. Taking the young man's disheveled head between his large hands, he tilted it up so he could look Blair fully in the face. A palm went instantly to the smooth forehead as brown eyes raked over the slender form, critically taking in his pale skin color, unfocused eyes and slightly increased respirations.

"I have a killer headache and my throat hurts a little, too. I-I'm kind of achy all over. Maybe I'm getting a cold. But my head really hurts. It's making my eyeballs ache."

"I think your fever is back, too. Lay down and cover up. I'll be right back." Simon tucked his observer back under the blankets and added another cover to the pile already on top of the youth. Smoothing out the edges of the comforter, he again let his hand rest momentarily on Blair's face.

Clucking to himself about sleep being overrated, the older man headed out of the small bedroom. He returned carrying a thermometer, a bottle of Tylenol, a wet wash cloth and a glass of water. Draping the cold washcloth over Blair's hot forehead, Simon slipped the thermometer into the young man's mouth. Shaking out two tablets from the bottle he set both on the nightstand beside the glass.

Sitting down beside the huddled lump under the cover, Simon touched a slightly flushed cheek and unnecessarily adjusted the cloth as he waited for the thermometer to register. Five long minutes later, the older man pulled the glass rod from Blair's mouth and sighed.

"100.9. You need to take these pills, son."

"That's not very high, Simon. Maybe I could just go to sleep. My stomach doesn't feel like taking them."

"Try them anyway. If you get sick, we'll deal with that when it happens. Right now we're taking care of your fever. Swallow them."

"Siiiiiimonn!"

"Don't give me any lip at this time of the night! Remember, just like taking your temperature, there is more than one way to give Tylenol!"

Blair tried glaring at the big man but he felt too tired and achy to put much effort into it. Reluctantly he held out his hand and accepted the pills. Propping himself up on one elbow, Blair tossed both into his mouth and gulped down the entire glass of water, grimacing at the pain swallowing cause him.

Lying back on his pillow, Blair nestled further under the blankets. Simon absently tucked the edges down and wiped the now warm washcloth over and off Blair's face.

"Your stomach all right, kid?"

"I think so, Simon, thanks for everything. I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's okay, just go to sleep, all right?"

"I guess."

"Goodnight."

"Simon?"

A deep sigh escaped as the big man hung his head in defeat at the open doorway.

"Yes?"

"Um, do you think Jim's asleep?" Blair's voice was slightly rough from the soreness and sounded hesitant and uncertain.

"Yes, Blair, I think at 2:30 in the morning he, like the rest of the world in our time zone, with the exception of us, is probably asleep."

"Um, do you think you could call and check? Maybe if he was awake I could maybe talk to him for a minute?"

Simon returned to the bedside and sat down. Placing a fatherly hand on a slender shoulder, he looked intently into a pair of slightly unfocused, pleading, blue eyes.

"Listen, son. Jim is sleeping. We are going to be picking him up in just a few hours. He's fine. The hospital would have called if there were a problem. Dr Walters promised and you know he's a good man. Jim is getting the rest he needs to heal from this latest little walk on 'the sentinel side' of life, similar to, but not to be confused with the 'Sandburg zone'. Just close your eyes and rest and let your body do the same."

A thoughtful expression crossed the young man's sleepy eyes and a huge yawn escaped him. "Jim said you and Joel were like his brothers."

Simon smiled and patted the damp curls under his hand. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. We're close enough and been through enough together to qualify for that title."

"I like that."

"Good! Now go to sleep!"

Heavy lids fluttered and fell on to pink cheeks. "All right. I'll try. Night, Uncle Simon." The big man started and opened his mouth to loudly protest when a lightly congested snore filled the room. Simon stood up shaking his head and muttering to himself.

"Night, son." Simon clicked off the bedside lamp and returned to the doorway. "Get some rest." Closing the door to the small bedroom, the weary captain trudged up the stair to fall thankfully into the cold bed and tried to snag another few precious hours of sleep.

***********************

By morning, Blair's throat was improved and his fever gone. Simon fussed over him, retaking his temperature, and forcing him to eat a normal breakfast. The younger man picked at the food and grumbled about the time they were wasting, but eventually ate enough to satisfy the older man.

By ten am, Major Crime's Captain, his recovered best detective and hyperactive observer were walking through the doors of the bullpen. After several long moments of relieved welcomes from their fellow detectives and officers, everyone working on the serial killer case joined all three men in Simon's office. Turning to Brown and Rafe, Simon demanded an update from the two junior detectives first. Henri opened the file in his hand and glanced back and forth between his partner and his captain as he updated the group.

"Well, Brian and I finally came up with a small connection between the victims. It seems each man was a runner or jogger. All four men routinely went out to the Liberty Park every morning early for a run according to family, friends or roommates. Brian and I mapped out the addresses of each victim and after several more conversations with this same people, figured out that each guy probably used the same entrance to the park."

Rafe nodded his agreement and pulled a few pages from the thick folder too.

"Using that assumption as a basis for our next move, we started to do door to door interviews with the residents on that street. Anyone, who might have seen the victims running in the mornings, knew them from the neighborhood. That sort of thing. There are a lot of people on that side of the park, a lot of apartments and some business. We probably talked with over eighty people on this list, and that's just the ones that live close to that entrance."

Simon nodded his silent approval and scanned quickly over the lists of interviewed citizens.

"Anything suspicious or out of the ordinary crop up?"

The younger detectives exchanged wry expressions of amused disgust. Brown answered for both of them.

"There are a lot of weird people out there, sir."

"Yes, I realize that, detective. That is why you have a job. But are any of these people you talked to worth a second look? Narrow down a list of likely suspects and have Jim or Joel go with you, get a another take on the person."

Both junior detectives nodded and stuffed their lists back into their respective folders. Grins broke through their chastened expressions at the captain's next gruff words.

"Good work! At least we have a little something to work with, thin thread or not."

"There was even one old guy who had a lot of weird masks and statues all over his apartment, just like Hairboy has in his room. I had him pinpointed as our man based on that alone." Henri couldn't resist the good-natured dig at the electic taste their young anthropologist exhibited in his bedroom decor. Especially since it seemed to be leaking out into the main rooms of the loft lately, too. Blair grinned back and tossed a friendly comeback in the teasing man's direction.

"If taste and an educated mind are indicators of weirdness, H, what are you using as an excuse, man?"

"Ooh! Harsh one, Blair! But so right!" Rafe jostled his partner's chair and shoved his shoulder. Both junior detectives watched as a solid tap landed on the back of Blair's head from his partner and Simon rewarded them all with a huge frown of disapproval. All three young men straightened up in their chairs and turned their attention to the files in front of them. Joel surpressed a grin behind one huge paw and pretended to sip his coffee.

Carolyn pulled her lips in to a hard line to keep the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth from becoming more than that. Encouragement in any form these three did not need. Handing out copies of her department's latest findings to each person present, she immediately launched into a review of the data.

"The latest victim fits the profile exactly. Young man, between 20 and 25, good physical condition, athletic really, a runner. His body was displayed in the same ritualistic manner as the first three. Throat slashed and heart removed while still alive. Well, actually, the head was almost removed from the body. The weapon used has a very wide blade, able to cut through to the spinal cord with one blow."

Henri, Rafe and Joel all squirmed in their chairs and the two younger men fingered their files, flipping quickly over the crime scene photos. Simon stared briefly at the autopsy pictures while Jim scanned them thoroughly but rapidly. Blair didn't even open his copy of the file, content to rely on the forensics specialist to impart any needed information she had without adding the visual impact. Carolyn never batted an eyelash at the graphic photos as she continued to point out specific elements of the crime evident in each one.

"You can see the crude, hollowed out gourd placed over the neck wound. It is filled with the victim's blood, probably collected from the neck wound. Then the heart was removed. Flesh was stripped from the victim's back and thighs in one-inch strips, just like the others. There was no evidence of the missing pieces at the scene."

Blair cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. Eyeing the other men in the room he slid his copy of the file forward on the table nervously and forced himself to jump into the narrative. Worried about contradicting the head of the technical support team and Jim's ex-wife, Blair started out hesitantly.

"Ah, I think maybe that may not be exactly right. I recognize the ritual and the purpose of the stripping of the flesh."

All eyes in the room locked on the young observer and Blair straightened himself up in the chair to meet the challenge he saw in most of the eyes turned towards him. Simon was first to break the silence, only seconds before Jim.

"You know something you're not telling us, Sandburg?" Simon voice was slightly confused and more than a little demanding.

"What's up, Chief? Is this about yesterday? Did you find out something more than just about that damn plant?"

Blair drew in a deep breath and looked around the room at the skeptical faces seated around the table and decided to keep his eyes locked on his partner.

"Yes, and no. Some of it I found out yesterday, the plant and its side effects, but some of it I discovered, ah, real early this morning." A shy look thrown Simon's way telegraphed the entire story to Jim as he watched his charge blush.

"Really early." Simon gruffly tossed into the conversation. Blair's color deepened but he forged ahead with his story.

"Anyway, I recognized the plant from forensics' description in the files. It's widely used in a number of cultures as an aid to shamans in their search for vision quests. Its hallucinogenic properties are well documented and its physical description is easy to identify once you're familiar with it. That's why I knew you might have a problem with it, Jim. You know, your allergies and all. I've seen it used before."

Jim's eyes narrowed and a suspicious glint lit up his pale eyes. "Only seen it used, Chief?" Blair paled slightly and chewed on his lower lip.

"Yeah, man! I swear! I've never taken it! Smelled the fragrance, but hey, I was in the room! Nothing I could do about that besides hold my breath and I so did not want to pass out in the middle of a vision quest with the guys in this particular tribe of warriors, man. There no telling what body part would have been missing or pierced while I was out! They had a ---"

"Sandburg!" Simon's bellow caused the observer's hands to freeze in midair and his jaw to stop. Both events the frustrated captain looked at as good things.

The grad student's eyes darted around the table and came to rest on his partner's. A smile tugged at the corners of Jim's mouth, but the detective managed to keep it contained to a small smirk. The three other detectives at the table had less success at hiding their mirth at the unbridled enthusiasm of their young observer

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, Simon. Anyway," Blair sucked in a deep breath and charged back into his narrative. "Anyway, the ritual being used on the victims is from an obscure Andean peoples know as the Moche. The ritual was discovered at the Pyramid of the Moon in 1987. These people believed that only human blood could give the sun strength to climb from the underworld every day. Plus they believed in the power of the human heart. Priests would stretch their captured enemy warriors across a narrow stone and carve out their beating hearts. The blood in the gourd was collected from the heart as it continued to beat in the priest's hand. The blood would be mixed with ulluco, a native fruit from the Amazon region, which prevents the blood form clotting so it could be drunk. After wards they butchered the bodies, cutting off thin strips of flesh, so it could be eaten ritually."

Henri made a disgusted noise and screwed his face up. "That is so gross! I can understand that happening thousands of years ago but here and now in Cascade? That's just too wild! Why did they do that?"

Blair eagerly sat forward in his chair, hands flying as his excitement with the subject increased. "They believed blood was like rain. It made things grow and nourished the earth. Maybe someone is unbalanced enough to think that they are doing a good thing here, someone familiar with the rituals and the meaning behind them."

Simon tapped the table impatiently and drew everyone attention back to him. He felt as if he was losing control of the discussion and venturing off into the 'Sandburg zone' one more time. Determined not to have that happen, he raised his hands and slapped them down on the table loudly.

"This is all based on the presence of one plant? I need more than that to swallow this ancient ritual of cannibalism in my city."

Blair jumped up and hurried around to the big man's side pulling his copies of the files over to the edge of the table near them and turning rapidly past the photos to the typed reports. Stuffing them under the exasperated Captain's nose as he bounced in place beside him.

"It more than that, Simon! Carolyn, didn't you say that the autopsies showed every victim had a mid-shaft ulna fracture and nasal displacements or fractures, too?"

Startled from her momentarily speechless daze caused by the unfamiliar buzz of energy and unparalleled knowledge coming from the young man before her, the detective stammered her way back to give an intelligent comeback.

"Y-yes. They each had what appeared to be defense wounds and fractures of the right arms, as if they had been fending off a blow from a heavy object like a club. And yes, each of them had a broken nose, but I don't see---"

"Moche warriors would club their captives to disable their dominant arm. Then they would smack their victims in the face, breaking their noses and spilling blood without severely wounding them, thus making the first blood offering to the gods as soon as possible."

Carolyn exchanged glances with both Simon and Jim, disbelief evident in her composed face. Jim jumped into the conversation before Carolyn could express her opinion.

"What about the drawings, Chief? Did you make any head way with them?"

Thrown off track by the change in topic, Blair blinked several times at his partner and sucked in his lower lip to absently worry it with his teeth.

"What? Oh! The drawings! Yeah, man, I found a glossary of dead languages at the university and finally pinpointed the glyphs. Moche, obviously. The only part that doesn't make any sense is that they should be a name or a title, but instead they just keep repeating themselves."

Simon pulled his cigar from his mouth and scowled at the young man as he began his jittery pacing around the table.

"What do you mean they should be a name? Why would they have a name written on them? Is it the victim's?"

Blair stopped in his tracks and gestured widely at the information cluttering the tabletop. "Because that's what the priests did. They wrote their name on the paper, saturated it with their own blood, put the drawing in the bottom of the bowls and filled it with the sacrifice's offering of blood. That's how the gods knew who was sending the gift to them."

Jim sat forward suddenly and stared at his young friend intensely.

"You're saying that the drawings are the killer's name? And the killer adds his own blood to the mix?"

"YES! Usually the priests would run a rope through their tongue or pierce the foreskin of their penis for the offering. I don't really want to know how this guy is doing it."

A collective shudder ran through every man in the room as each envisioned the described ritual. More than one pair of knees drew closely together. Carolyn broke the brief silence. Her voice carried the conviction of someone 100% certain of her facts and unwilling to be swayed from them.

"That's not possible. All the blood found in the bowls so far has belonged to the victim. There wasn't any other blood type present."

Blair scurried over to Carolyn's side and pawed over her pages in her file. Never seeing her look of amazement at his actions, he pulled a page from the dismantled pile and shook it at her in his excitement.

"But that's because all the victims have been the same blood type, A+! Only this last man was different, B-! I'll bet if the lab reran the blood sample with this theory in mind, you will find there are two different types present this time, B-, the victim's and A+, our killer's. You didn't notice before because they were the same."

Blair suddenly realized he was very close to Jim ex-wife, talking loudly and rapidly about what her very competent and experience group of forensic specialist should be doing in regards to a murder scene he hadn't even laid eyes on. Listing the things they may have missed, telling her how to do her job.

Blair flushed with embarrassment then paled as stern brown eyes bore into his. The young man swallowed audibly and stepped back two paces. Darting a worried glance over to his partner, Blair began to rub his index finger over his thumb joint and backed away towards his seat by his Blessed Protector.

"I mean--I just thought--it's only a suggestion. Something to look into if--if you think it's worth the time. I-I know the lab does a great job, I just -just thought maybe they might have miss-- overlooked--hadn't got to doing that just yet."

Blair slid quietly into his chair, unconsciously leaning closer to his Blessed Protector's presence. Glancing shyly at the detective, he was reassured to see Jim turn a smile on him.

Carolyn gathered together her paperwork and stacked it neatly in front of her again. Methodically looking over her own personnel's reports, she slowly began to nod her head.

"You know, Captain, he just might be right here. It's possible. The same blood type would allow that to go unnoticed. If the killer is A+ like the first three victims, we should be able to detect his presence if it is mixed with this victim's B- blood. We could do a DNA analysis if we can isolate the different types. This may be the first break in this case we've had."

Carolyn half smile contained a grudging respect. Blair's answering grin lit up his tired, slightly flushed face. A light tap to the side of his head had him refocus his delighted expression on the proud face of his partner.

"Good work, Chief!" The warm tone of the older man's voice took the edge off his nervousness. The warm hand rubbing over his shoulder dispelled a little of the chill he was feeling in the large office.

"Hey, Hairboy, all right!" Brown high-fived their observer as Rafe punched him on the arm.

"Gentlemen! If you wouldn't mind foregoing the locker room antics for a moment! This is a murder investigation, in case you all have forgotten!"

Simon's bellow sobered the mood. Four faces immediately composed themselves. Encouraged by the positive responses of the three other detectives, Blair bounced forward in his chair and gestured toward Carolyn again.

"Test the paper the drawings are on. Priests usually saturated the glyphs with their own blood after marking it with their name or symbol."

Simon's brow creased in deep furrows and his bellow had dropped down to near normal levels.

"What's this about names on the drawings? Don't tell me this lunatic actually signs his name and leaves it with the victims?"

"Uh, yeah, man, he does! At least part of it! Even though each symbol found looks different than the others, they all say the same thing. In the Moche language, these symbols breakdown into three separate pictures. Each picture stands for a syllable not an individual letter. You can have different combinations that say the same thing even though they look completely different. Look at this drawing. This one is three separate syllables. It just keeps repeating the same word."

Blair brandished one of the photocopies of the bloodied drawings in the air excitedly.

"This is TA, this is MA and the last one is SA. TA-MA-SA. Thomas. But it repeats it's self. Each drawing says Thomas Thomas. It's really weird, man!"

Rafe and Brown looked at each other, startled expressions transforming their handsome faces. Rafe sat forward and stared intently at the wide-eyed young observer.

"Are you sure about this, Blair?"

Blair blinked in confusion at the intense and demanding tone of the other man's question. Stammering just a little with nervousness he nodded absently as he repeated himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Rafe. I checked it out this morning and verified my results with a linguist in the field of Mayan glyphs on the net. All they say is 'Thomas Thomas.' No last name. There must be thousands and thousands of Thomas' in Cascade."

Henri was frantically searching through his list of interviewed subjects. Finally he pulled out a page and scanned it hurriedly, pointing out an item to his excited partner.

"Yeah, Blair, but only one Thomas Tomas. 1574 Westline Avenue. Right in front of the park."

Every person at the table stared at the detective than switched to their young observer.

"No way, man! That is just too weird! What was he like? Don't tell me he was the guy with the masks!"

"No, he wasn't. He was just some guy, maybe 38-40ish, good build, nothing usual. He was a little preoccupied the whole time we talked but nothing too weird." Rafe ran a hand through his neatly trimmed hair and rubbed the back of his neck.

"He acted like he wanted to get rid of us, but no more than the way a dozen other people acted. H and I joked about his name all through lunch. That's why it was so easy to remember it."

Simon closed the file before him and pulled his glasses off to rub at the bridge of his nose.

"All right! You two check this guy out and let me know what you find. Carolyn, check with your people and see if you can find a second blood type with this last body. Joel, give Brown and Rafe a hand. See if you can find enough to bring him in for questioning. Let's go folks. There's a murderer out there. I want him before there's another body."

Everyone began filing out of the captain's office single file. Simon put a hand on Jim's shoulder as he moved past his boss, partner in tow.

"Wait just a minute, Jim. I want to talk to you and Sandburg."

Both men waited as the others wandered off to complete their assigned tasks. Blair hopped up to sit on the tabletop as Jim walked over to gaze out of the office window. The younger man began to swing his legs in and out under the table in an attempt to channel some pent up stores of energy despite his weary appearance. Turning back to face the tall black man as the door closed behind the last co-worker, Jim arched his eyebrows in a silent question.

"It's nothing major, Jim. I wanted to check with you and make sure you're feeling up to this investigation so soon. You did just get released from the hospital a couple of hours ago and I was there when the doctor told you to take it easy for a few days."

"I'm feeling fine, Simon. A little tired, but nothing a night's rest in my own bed won't cure."

"You wouldn't be the only one who didn't sleep well last night." Simon turned a sour look on his observer and added a stern glare to eliminate any question of whom it was meant for and why. Jim walked over to his partner and lay a hand on one slumped shoulder.

"Oh, really? What happened, Chief, bad night?"

A faint shrug was his only answer. Blair's cheeks colored slightly as he raised reluctant, wide eyes to meet his Blessed Protector's concerned ones, swinging his legs faster with each passing moment of silence between them. Simon scowled at the continued silence from the young man then decided then and there to out him to his 'father'.

"He ran a fever most of the night and I caught him up on the computer at 2am working on this case. He said his throat hurt and his body ached all over but after a couple of Tylenol, he was fine by this morning. And stop swinging your legs! You don't have the right to have that much energy after last night!"

"You coming down with something, Chief?" Jim stepped closer to his side and a large hand landed on his forehead, sliding down to rest on his flushed cheek. Another hand cupped his chin and tilted it up so their gazes met. "Temp's 100.1"

Blair's answering voice was a little rough, a change only sentinel ears could have picked up. "JIM!"

Simon nodded. "I was pretty sure it was up again." Blair glared at both older men.

"Is not! I'm okay, Jim! Just a little preoccupied with finding out about the drawings and stuff. I feel fine now. I think I'm just getting a cold. My throat is a lot better and my headache is barely there."

Jim's expression narrowed and a demanding glint settled in his eyes at his charge's evasive tone. "What headache? I thought you were 'fine'?"

Blair stammered and lost a little of the color that had risen in his cheeks. "Oh, ah, it's just a small one. I'll take something for it as soon as I can, promise."

"Oh, no you don't, young man. You are not brushing this off as unimportant, case or no case. Not when the doctor just got done lecturing you and me about increasing the rest you get and the amount of nutrition you're not eating. A fever and sore throat on top of everything else is one warning sign too many right now. You are in no shape to be fighting off any exotic bugs. Dr. Arden was adamant about that. Get your things together, we're going home."

"Jim! I'm better! I swear! Come on, man!"

The detective ignored the younger man's rebuttal entirely.

"You're right, Simon. Rafe and H are following up on this guy and they have Joel for backup. Caro's people will find any new information that is there to be found I'm sure. You don't need me right now and I could use a little down time. I may need to take the rest of the weekend off, if you can spare me."

"No problem, Jim. I've been saying that ever since you landed in the hospital, for Christ's sake! Go home and take that nocturnal creature with you. He's getting such dark circles under his eyes he's beginning to look like a raccoon."

Jim gently pulled the protesting young man off the table by his arm and marched him towards the office door.

"Jiiiimm!"

"Thanks, sir. And thank you for last night. Both of us appreciated it. I'll call you." Simon stuffed his unlit cigar in his frowning mouth and waved a dismissive hand at the duo.

"Get some rest, both of you. I'll call you if I need your esteemed presence before Monday morning. Now, get out of my office! It is Saturday, and I would like to get out of here at a decent hour, too! "

"Right, sir!"

"Bye, Simon!"

"Shut the damn door!"

Jim exited the bullpen still gently towing his mumbling but obviously weary charge the whole way to the elevator. Quick good-byes and understanding nods from their co-workers preceded their rapid exit.

The trip home was companionable if slightly strained. The older man was not happy about being kept in the dark about his roommate's poor night and symptoms of a pending illness. Upon entering the loft, Jim took control of the afternoon's schedule of events.

"Okay. Here is how the next couple of hours are going to go, Chief."

Blair stopped dead in his tracks on his way to his room and turned to stare at his partner. He really had wanted to lay down for a little bit but all of a sudden it wasn't what he wanted to do right then.

"I have school work to do!"

The older man ignored the protest as if it had never happened.

"First, I'm getting you some thing for that fever you've got brewing again, grabbing a quick lunch and then both of us are going to take a nap. I'm beat from a night in a noisy hospital and you look like you're going to fall over. Simon was right. The circles under your eyes are huge. We both need some quality sleep. And I can hear how raspy you voice is getting. You must be coming down with something, all right."

Blair pulled an exaggerated expression of reluctance onto his face and moaned in frustration. He stood outside his bedroom doors and bounced in place, unable to control his restlessness. He actually was beginning to long for the feel of his soft, warm bed and a quiet, dark room.

"I'm not hungry. Simon made me eat a huge breakfast! And 100.1 is not even a real temperature! On the bottom of all those ER discharge sheets we collect, it says to contact your doctor for a temp over 102. Nobody is worried about anything under that!"

Jim walked past him and into the bathroom and returned with a bottle of Motrin in his hand. Pulling a container of bottled juice from the refrigerator, he handed it and three tablets to Blair without comment. Standing expectantly, he stared down his charge until a groan escaped the younger man and the medication disappeared along with half of the juice.

"That wasn't so hard, was it? Why don't you go change into something more comfortable to sleep in while I put together some lunch?"

"Yeah, okay, fine." Blair huffed out the last word but beat a hasty retreat to his room as the older man's expression hardened.

Jim threw together two lunchmeat sandwiches and opened some soup to heat on the stovetop. Several minutes later, at no sign of his grumpy little guide, Jim pushed open the door to Blair's room to check on his progress.

Jim smiled to himself and quietly entered the room. Blair was stretched across his bed, face down and unmoving. He had changed into sweat pants and a T-shirt, and thick gray socks covered his shoeless feet. Both arms were pulled tight to his chest as if to ward off the cold that didn't exist. A flushed cheek peeked out from under a cascade of unruly curls causing Jim to reach out and smooth the stray strands off the overly warm skin. Unfolding the comforter at the end of the bed, he gently draped it over the sleeping form, being sure to tuck it in around the student's feet.

Returning to the kitchen, Jim ate, locked up and trudged up the stairs to his room, answering the call of his own bed. Fifteen minutes later the loft descended into silence.

****************************

A melodramatic sigh escaped the hunched figure seated at the loft kitchen table. Spread out over the flat surface were numerous sheets of paper along with a worn, smudged assignment calendar. In the middle of the barely contained chaos lay an 11x17 sheet of heavy white paper. Dozens of horizontal and vertical lines crisscrossed over the page. Weeks were cut up into spaces and days were blocked out into individual hours, starting at 7am and running until 11pm. Some spaces were blue, while others were green, brown, orange and purple. Every colored space contained a small note regarding the event that was to take place during the allotted time period. Almost every space was filled with fine scrawled handwriting from early morning until late evening. A very small number of blank white spaces stared back at the young man staring balefully down at them.

Blair sighed again and set his marker down on the table. A three-hour nap had helped take the edge off of his weariness and body aches but had not completely eradicated them.

Running a critical eye over his creation, he mentally checked to be sure no class, meeting, assignment, appointment, office hour or deadline had been neglected for the next seven weeks. Confident he had remembered everything he was responsible for until the end of the summer semester, he took off his glasses and wearily rubbed at his eyes. It had taken him over two hours to design the chart and to reproduce his schedule. He was immensely relieved to have it completed.

Jim glanced up from the stovetop where he was busily tending to a pot of beef stew and checked on his restless charge. The sight of Blair rubbing his eyes with both hands wrapped tightly into fists, looking for all the world like a sleepy five year old, brought a indulgent smile to the big man's face. Secure in their comfortable home, safe and warm, content and relaxed, Jim felt a burst of paternal affection and love for the young man sharing his life.

Both had grown up in less than ideal households but together they made a family unit formed out of need and love, based on trust and respect. Together they were forging a father and son relationship that was slowly beginning to meet each of their long desired dreams of having someone who understood them and loved them despite that person knowing them. Each man fulfilled a long-standing void in the other's life, filling the hole in the each other's heart and soul as well. A quiet voice pulled Jim from his mental wanderings.

"Hey, Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"I'm done, man."

"All twenty copies done already?"

Blair turned around in his chair and gaped at the apron-clad man before him, his voice rising in indignation and disbelief.

"NO! Just the first one, man! It took me this long to organize everything! I've been working on this for over two hours!"

Jim set the spoon he was using to stir the pot's contents with down and wiped his hands off on the nearest dish towel. Walking over to stand beside his charge, he picked up the color filled chart and gazed at the numerous entrees.

"If it took you this long, you are doing too many things. Chief, this is outrageous! You have practically every block of time filled in here from morning to night! Half these days don't even have time for lunch or dinner left in them let alone a break! You didn't leave any spaces for changes to your schedule to be written in, either. You're going to have to redo this one, John Hancock."

"REDO it! No way, man! That has to stay just the way it is! There is nothing on there that I can afford to leave out! Naps and snack time will just have to wait until I have time for them, and that will be right after I start scheduling in Elmo and Snuffy. Get a grip, man! No way!"

Blair stood suddenly shoving back his chair sharply and turned to escape to his room, brushing by his silent companion. He got all of two steps past his roommate before being hauled back in place. A strong hand snagged his wrist and Blair suddenly felt himself being twirled around to face his partner.

"Corner. 30 minutes. Now."

"Jiiimm! I'm NOT--"

"Do it now or its 60 minutes."

Flashing the older man a look of outraged disbelief, Blair's resolve to argue crumpled as he swallowed and a fresh burst of pain burned down his throat. Feeling tired and irritable, the young man sighed in resignation, dropped his pounding head and shuffled off to his new designated corner of the world without another word of protest.

Jim arched his eyebrows in surprise at the uncharacteristically easy compliance and pushed out his senses to catalog Blair's vital signs at a more conscious level than usual. Once again, Blair's temperature was slightly above normal and his heart rate elevated along with it. Jim watched as the grad student slumped in the corner and rolled his neck as if trying to relieve stiff muscles. Blair leaned forward within the first few minutes and rested his warm forehead against the cool outside wall.

"Chief? I want you to think about your schedule and what the doctor said. Come up with some suggestions on how to trim this workload down to a manageable size here."

Blair spun around and hissed back at the big man, the resolve to stand his ground over his time management reasserting itself as tears involuntarily clouded his eyes.

"I can't TRIM things down!"

Jim took in the moist eyes and trembling but defiant words and narrowed his own eyes in response.

"Then I'll help you."

Blair squeezed his eyes shut tightly and gritted his teeth in an attempt to regain his waning self-control. He turned abruptly back to the wall and buried his head in the corner.

Blair was perilously close to losing control over this one issue. Jim knew Blair normally would have a dozen different inventive ways to try to solve the problem, but today he was at a loss to even make the effort. Muffled angry words mixed with congested sniffles reached the older man without need of his sensitive hearing.

Jim set the microwave timer and checked on dinner one more time before returning to the work place Blair had made on the tabletop. Calmly piling all the pages, notes and calendars into a neat group, Jim moved them to a far corner of the table.

Pulling over the freshly completed chart, he began to take notes on the entries. Every few minutes, he would stop and monitor the restless and anxious form in the corner of the room, noting body temperature and how strong the scent of tears was in the room. Each time he resumed study of the chart before him, reassured the young man was basically all right. When the timer chimed, Jim completed his last notation and placed the chart over with the other papers. He walked to the living room and sat down on the couch before calling Blair out of his slump on the wall.

"Come here, Chief."

Wanting to storm past his Blessed Protector and take refuge in his room, Blair wavered at the understanding tone of the other man's commanding voice. Looking over to catch Jim's face and the gentle expression on it was his final undoing.

He hesitantly jerked his shoulder off the wall and slowly drifted over to the couch, brushing angrily at a single trail of moisture on his right cheek. A long arm reached out and pulled him down beside the older man before he could object to the sudden position change and hugged him close to Jim's side.

"I can understand now why you’ve been feeling so overwhelmed this last week. That schedule of yours is a killer. Whatever possessed you to make all those commitments during such a short semester?"

Blair dropped his chin to his chest and heaved a weary sigh. Leaning back against his partner's arm, he allowed his head to roll back and rest on Jim.

"I didn't realize there were so many until I wrote them all down in one place like that. But they're all things I have to do! I can't see a way to eliminate any of them, man! Honestly, Jim, I can't!"

"I have a couple of suggestions if you're ready to listen to them."

Blair eyed the other man skeptically but nodded. Jim stood up and pulled the smaller figure along with him over to the table. Seating them both, Jim pushed the color-coded chart in front of Blair and opened his notes he had made earlier.

"Okay. The green stands for the class you teach and the blue is for the two you're taking, right?" Blair stared at his latest effort and nodded absently at the question.

"Yeah."

"Are both classes you're taking necessary for anything you're doing in the fall semester?" A thoughtful expression twisted Blair's mouth into a quirky little smile of confusion.

"Nooo, not really. I just thought they would be good ones to take in a summer session, not too complex but interesting."

Jim tapped the chart with one finger and touched the green squares lightly. "Good. Pick one and drop it."

Stunned disbelief popped out on his charge's face as indignation rolled through his voice. Blair grabbed the chart off the table and nearly shook it in the big man's face as his abruptly stood. A steel band locked around his upper arm making sure he remained in place.

"What! I don't want to drop any classes!"

Jim calmly pulled the offending paper from the shaking hand and lay it back on the surface of the table. Determination shone from his pale eyes and was reflected in his firm grip as he lowered Blair back into his chair.

"We passed what you want and moved on to what you need. You need more time to yourself, to rest and eat right. You pick one or I will."

A stern and unwavering glare stared down Blair's half-hearted scowl. "Okay, FINE! I'll drop one Monday morning."

"Good. That will free up a fair block of your time, eliminating class time and homework, research and study time. Next, these office hours, you need to shorten them, fewer hours a day or less days of the week. Pick one."

Dark blue eyes flared briefly before the grad student pushed his frustration back. He was not willing to add a spanking to today's 'discussion'. His throat was beginning to hurt again and his head had been pounding since the start of his 'corner time' earlier. Both made thinking and reacting like a rational adult difficult for him. Add in the stuffy nose and he was beginning to feel miserable again.

Trying a different approach to win his protector over to his way of seeing things, Blair tried to emphasize his responsibilities to others. "My students need to be able to see me with questions! I have to be there for them!"

The older man tried to reassure him that he did indeed understand the student's TA position. "I know that, but you don't have to be there this often, it's a summer session. If someone needs to see you outside of the shortened time allotted they can make an appointment with you, right?"

Blair was finding it difficult to argue with calm certainty and reasonable suggestions. It was wearing on his already raw nerves. "I guess. But I really should be more available."

Jim sat back in the hard-backed chair and pinned his companion with a measuring stare. "How available do you think you're going to be if you end up in the hospital or restricted to home by Dr. Arden after next week's checkup?"

"What checkup? No one said anything about a checkup!"

The corners of Jim's mouth tugged up a little as he eyed the jittery form beside him.

"I've been saving it for when you were in a better mood. Since that doesn't look like it's going to happen, I'm telling you now."

"Cute! Ha-ha! What for, man? I'm fine!"

"You're not fine so stop saying it! Because Dr. Arden wants to check your blood work again and make sure you're following his advice about eating and getting enough sleep. Because he doesn't trust you to follow through since he told you to do this a half a dozen times before without any sign of compliance from you."

"I'm trying!"

"Not hard enough, you're not. But you will be, as of now. You can't do much about the added class for the TA who is sick, but at least it will only be for two more afternoons. Cut his office hours in half, he can catch his students when he gets back."

"Jim!"

Ignoring the pleading voice, the ex-ranger continued with the task at hand focused on the present goal of reducing his charge's commitments and enabling him to have more time to rest and rebuild his health.

"These orange entries are department meetings?"

"Yes, I can't miss them."

"Well, there are only two of them, one each month. They're long but they can both stay."

"Well, gee, thanks, Mr. President!"

A heavy tap to the side of his head signaled the other man's increasing displeasure with the current downward shift in his attitude. "Watch your mouth. You and that pump soap dispenser are already friends, you want to make that best buddies and spend more time together?"

"N-no! Okay, okay, man!" Blair raised his hands in supplication, backtracking rapidly.

"Sure?" Pale blue eyes took on a predator gleam and the younger man folded a little more in on himself in embarrassment.

"Yes! It smells okay but it tastes like motor oil. I'm sure."

Jim reached out and pulled Blair's chin around, feeling the fine tremors coursing through the slender frame and registering the low-grade fever at 100.5 again. His voice grew soft and affectionate at the remorseful expression on the youth's face. He ran a palm over the warm flesh of Blair's cheek and lightly shook the curls beneath his hand.

"Then watch your mouth, Junior."

Overly moist eyes stared back at him, slightly unfocused from the increasing fever. "Yes, sir."

"Stay here." Jim stood and walked swiftly into the bathroom and returned with a paper cup full of water and a couple of pills. Handing them to his companion he watched as Blair reluctantly swallowed them without comment, all too aware of his body's aches and pains. That alone worried the detective, but he returned to his seat at the table.

"Now, these purple spaces, what are they for?" Blair finished all the water and licked at his still dry lips trying to catch all the moisture.

"Publication deadlines. I have to have two articles submitted by these dates or risk having them tossed out of the publication. If that happens, the editor probably won't accept anymore articles from me and I need to have recent publications in order to keep my grants and scholarships going. Jim, I really can't give these up, really. This is what helps pay for school."

"Okay, the deadlines can stay. But, you budget time in here for the time it's going to take to research them and write them. No last minute scrambles or all-nighters. Clear?"

"I do some of my best work under pressure, man! I-I," Blair watched as Jim slowly rolled the sleeves of his shirt up his arm as if preparing to do some physical task that required a lot of arm muscle. "Clear, man. No scrambles. No all-nighters. Very clear."

Jim surpressed a small chuckle and nodded.

"Good. I very glad we're very clear about this. Add your doctor's visit with the red marker. Any changes or additions will be with red so they are easily seen, got it?"

"Yeah, I got it." A heavy sigh punctured the word of grudging acceptance. "When is it?"

"Two weeks from this past Thursday at 10am. He expects to see some improvement in your health, Chief. So do I."

"I know. But--"

The older man raise done hand to halt the flow of excuses before they started. "Stop. Let's just see what the lab work shows, okay?"

"Okay. But two weeks isn't long for blood work to show a change! Don't expect too much, Big Guy, please?"

Jim threw the young man a warning glare and stood up from the table. Walking towards the kitchen stove, he paused to stir his stew once before reaching for bowls from the nearest cabinet.

"We're going to eat and then you're going to recopy that chart leaving out the things we discussed and adding blank spaces for any changes."

Blair wearily lay his head down on top of the chart and shook his head, curls cascading down to hide his flushed face from view. "Yes, sir."

"Then you're going to bed."

The reply from Blair was quiet and flat. "Yes, sir."

A frown marred the detective's handsome face. Jim stopped dishing up the stew and walked over to his roommate. "Chief?"

"Yes, sir." Jim squatted down beside Blair's chair and gently palmed back the fallen hair from the warm face. A small crooked half-smiled greeted him as he pushed away the soft curls. The older man tried to hold back a grin of his own at the impish sight of Blair's young face.

"Brat!"

"Yes, sir." Jim thumped the riotous curls with his knuckles and pulled the younger man upright in his chair.

"Just for worrying me, you get to finish setting the table. Dinner's ready, get a move on, Junior."

A devious light shone in the dark blue eyes and Blair turned on his best Bambi-stare. "But I'm supposed to rest!"

A light swat to his backside propelled him towards the kitchen. "True, but you have to live long enough to need the rest, remember that Squirt!"

"Yes, sir." Blair dodged the next swat neatly and traveled around the kitchen island to place glasses and silverware at their usual places. Jim joined him with steaming bowls of stew and a basket of warm round bread from the bakery downstairs.

The remainder of the evening progressed uneventfully. Blair recopied his chart with all the changes and didn't even considered fighting the early bedtime imposed by the older man, body aches and sore throat providing a convincing argument all their own. After several checks on his charge, Jim turned in fairly early himself, worn out by the events of the past few days. By 10pm the loft was silent save for an occasional soft snore from the above bedroom or stuffy cough from the downstairs bedroom.

***********************

Sunday found both detective and observer in better moods. Blair grudgingly copied his schedule over and over, slowly amassing several piles of colorful charts. Simon called late in the day to update Jim on the case and check on both men's health.

"Simon, hi. What's happening? You need me to come in?"

"No, Jim. I was just calling to let you know we got him!"

"What? The guy H and Rafe were checking on? What was his name--Thomas Tomas, or something like that?"

"You got it! Sandburg was right. Seems this lunatic was making 'offerings to the gods'. His apartment overlooks the park and the south entrance. He would watch for the earliest morning joggers that ran alone and picked out the healthiest looking young men that appeared to be in the right age group. Then he would follow them and learn their route. One morning he would wait for them at a secluded part of the path they used and overpower them by a tripping them and smashing their faces into the concrete path, breaking their noses and knocking them unconscious. Tomas is a big guy. Then he'd load them in a nearby parked van and drive to the abandoned warehouse district at the other side of the park. He'd do the deed and take his time doing it. Brown and Rafe found freezer baggies in the man's refrigerator marked 'stew meat' that never came off a cow. I think Carolyn's people will be able to do a lot of DNA matching with this one."

"I think I need to throw out some leftovers from yesterday's dinner. That's great news! H and Rafe did a good job with this one. I'm sorry I wasn't more help on it. It's good to see plain old everyday police work pays off now and then though, too. They worked hard on this one, they deserve the bust."

"Yeah, they did good. Don't tell them I said that. I already told them once and that's all they need to hear it. They're both swaggering around here as it is."

"Let them have their moment of enjoyment. There aren't that many of them. Blair and I will see you Monday, Simon. Thanks for calling with the update. I'll tell my partner the good news."

"What's the kid up to? Is his cold better?"

"He's busy with some extra curricular activities I asked him to do. And no, his cold is about the same but he seems like he's feeling better after a good night's sleep. I am, anyway."

"Um. Well, I'll see you both tomorrow then. Bye, Jim."

Blair turned in his seat and yelled out loud enough that the captain could hear him over the connection. "Bye, Uncle Simon. Thanks for checking on me!"

Jim grinned and quickly held the earpiece away from his body as a loud squawking blasted out of the hand piece. Chuckling to himself, Jim hung up the phone. "Simon's going to get you for that one, Chief."

An impish grin spread across Blair's face. "Yeah, probably, but it was worth it to hear him. Man, that guy can really yell. I though the speaker in the phone was going to blow! Did I hear right, H and Rafe caught him?"

"Yeah, they did. Your Thomas Tomas clue was the final piece in their puzzle, Chief. You helped point them down the right road. You can read the report tomorrow when we go in to get the details. I'm sure H and Brian will fill you in. You'll be lucky to get a question into the conversation from the sounds of it."

"Cool, man. I can't wait! They did a good job."

Jim walked over to the table and glanced down at the multiple charts piled there. "You look like you're making good progress yourself here."

A tired but satisfied sigh huffed out of the grad student but the smile on his face never faltered. "Yeah, I'm finally done. All twenty schedules completed.

Color coded and blank spaces in place. They are works of art, man."

Jim chucked and pulled one from on top of a nearby stack. "Well, then, let's hang one up and admire it." Walking to the fridge he attached it to the door with magnetic clips and stepped back.

"Pure cubism, Chief. Pablo step aside, Sandburg has arrived."

A disgusted snort answered him and he turned around to watch the younger man as he began to clean up the materials on the tabletop. Sorting the copies of his schedule into one pile his glanced up to find Jim watching him.

"Art critic, you're not, Big Guy. What do you want me to do with all these?"

"I think it would be good if you put one in your bag and I put one in my desk at the station. Keep us both organized. We'll save the rest in my desk upstairs in case we need to replace any of them."

Blair handed the fistful of paper to his roommate and then brushed at a stray lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. He released a soft groan as he stretched the muscles of his low back, achy from the hours spent sitting and writing. Suddenly a warm hand was rubbing firm circles over his sore muscles and a sigh of relief escaped as they slowly loosened under the sensitive hand of his sentinel.

"Muscles sore, Chief?"

"Yeah, man. Too many hours in a hard chair. I think I need to go out for a walk or something, maybe run down to the campus, play a little basketball with the guys. There's usually a game going on Sunday afternoons."

The soothing circles never stopped but they did get a little firmer with their pressure on his back.

"I think you're forgetting something."

"What? There's time before dinner. I'll even cook tonight, okay? You cooked last night. I'll make that chicken casserole you like. The one with the carrots and potatoes."

"That's not it, Einstein."

A blank stare met the older man's amused gaze. Blair blinked and rapidly reviewed the day's events searching for the missing bit of info that prevented him from making a quick run to the university.

What? I did my schedule and made my copies. We don't have to go to work. Doctor's appointment isn't for a week and a half yet. Dinner is three hours away. I offered to cook. It's not curfew. I don't have class. I-I-I don't have any freedom either! Shit! I'm GROUNDED! How the hell did I forget I'm grounded? This week has been such a horrendous nightmare! Jim must think I'm like so dense!

A deep blush colored Blair's face as reality reasserted itself. "I'm grounded. I-I kind of forgot for a minute. It's been a bad week, you know?"

"Yeah, Chief, I know." Jim reached out to ruffle Blair's hair and gave his head an affectionate nudge. Patting the spot he had been rubbing Jim moved both hands to the youth's shoulders and began to massage away the tight knots bunched in the shoulders. After a few minutes he stopped and propelled his young charge toward the bathroom.

"Why don't you take a hot shower. It'll relax those sore muscles and loosen up your congestion."

"Okay, maybe that would be good. I am kind of stiff."

"I'll look for something for you to change into. Go ahead, I'll bring it in to you."

"Thanks, Jim."

"No problem. Just remember to put your dirty clothes in the hamper and clean out the drain afterwards."

"Nag, nag, nag."

"That's what parents do, Junior."

"Well, then you qualify, Big Guy." The bathroom door closed quickly, shutting out any reply the detective might have made.

***************

The rest of weekend went well. Even corner time was accomplished with a minimum of whining and only moderate levels of restless squirming on the part of the younger man. Jim suspected it was a result of lingering guilt over the older man's hospitalization but didn't fight the compliance.

The entire following week passed uneventfully until Friday afternoon. Blair attended his one class, taught his course and the added one, held restricted office hours and spent the remainder of his time at home or with Jim. This particular day, Jim had been assigned a last minute shift on stakeout and would be out until 9pm. Unable to drive Blair home, he had requested that Brown drop the young observer off at the loft on his way. The other detective had happily agreed.

Jim left, secure in the knowledge that a trusted fellow detective was looking after his charge. Blair spent the remainder of the day at Jim's desk diligently working on his next article submission. By 6pm both Henri and Rafe were ready to call it a day. Brown stood up from his desk and stretched. Spying the grad student hunched over his laptop, typing furiously away at his keyboard, he lobbed a pencil at the top of his curly head.

"Ow!" Blair looked up to see Brown's grinning face from across the space between the desks.

"Hey Hairboy, you ready to blow this joint, babe?"

Rafe joined in with the stretching of sore muscles and smiled as wide eyes blinked up in confusion.

"Uh, what? Oh, that time already? Man, I was just getting into the flow of things here! Give me a minute to save this and pack up." Blair hit a couple of keys waited a moment and snapped his laptop shut. Henri grabbed his jacket and pulled it on.

"Hurry it up. This bus is leaving in five!"

"Okay, okay! Give me a second!" After hurriedly stuffing papers into his backpack, Blair pulled his glasses off his face and tucked them haphazardly into his shirt pocket.

"Hey, Blair, H and I were going to stop on the way home for a beer and some wings to celebrate the arrest of Tomas. You want to join us? Jim's not going to be home until late and it's no fun to eat alone."

"Yeah, babe, you're just as responsible for this arrest as we are, you should join us. You need to eat more anyway. We could get a vegetable tray to go with the wings. What do you say, kid? A quick celebration, fine company and some food instead of an lonely, empty loft."

"Yeah, that does sound good, but--." Blair was sorely tempted to join the two older men. His grounding had been in effect for nearly two weeks. Two weeks of no phone calls, no TV, no dates, no outside activities, no freedom. Not that he had felt like doing any of those things anyway. His cold symptoms had persisted, a low-grade fever, head congestion and, starting two days ago, a mild, congested cough making him tired and lightheaded at times.

"But what? Come on, you'll be with us! Jim won't mind. He knows you're safe. He asked me to look after you. I'm just making sure you eat. That should make him happy." Henri waved impatiently at the hesitant young man, urging him to hurry up and join him as he and Rafe turned to leave the bullpen.

The temptation to play a little while the big guy was busy was just too appealing.

"Well, I guess it would be okay if I just stayed long enough to eat. Then you have to promise to drop me off at the loft. I can't stay more than an hour, okay?"

Sincere blue eyes looked up beseechingly at the detective. Henri grinned back reassuringly and reached out to latch onto Blair's sleeve to tug him towards the elevators, backpack over one shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you need, babe. You'll be home in no time. Let's go! I'm starving here!"

Rafe snorted and followed their lagging observer. "You're wasting away all right, H. You'll be just a shadow on the wall in a minute."

Teasing each other the whole way to the garage relaxed their unsure companion and soon he, too, was joining in on the easy conversation, dismissing the little voice at the back of his mind that told him this wasn't his best idea.

Three and a half hours later that same little voice returned, only this time it was louder, deeper and sounded a lot like Jim. Turning around on his stool to find the source of the voice, he nearly dropped his bottle of beer at the sight of his Blessed Protector standing 6 inches away from him. Cautiously looking up to lock gazes with the big man, Blair gulped his mouthful of brew and tried to keep his eyes from watering as he choked slightly as he swallowed. His voice came out as a harsh whisper when he had regained his breath.

"Oh, man! I'll bet we've been here longer than an hour, huh?"

Rafe and Brown simultaneously turned from watching a baseball game on the TV behind the bar. A look of surprise exchanged between them rapidly changed to one of chagrin. Brown took in a deep breath and stepped up to meet the obviously unhappy detective.

"Hey, Jim, my man!" Glancing at the clock behind the liquor stock, his eyes widened in surprise at the time indicated there. "Ah, 9:30! I'll bet you just got off stakeout, huh? Time really flies some nights doesn't it?" Rafe stepped back a pace and produced a smile that was mostly grimace.

A silent stare greeted the weak attempt at humor. Blair slid quietly off his barstool, wobbled in place and set his bottle down on the countertop. Deciding he should mediate the coming conversation, he jumped in with alcohol induced cheerfulness.

"Well, guys, since Jim is here, I won't need a ride home. See you guys Monday. Thanks for dinner and the beer. This was so much better than an empty loft and dinner alone. Dinner was great. I don't remember when I've eaten so much!"

Blair tried to slip toward the front door but found his way continued to be blocked by a large, warm wall of tense muscle. Escaping quietly to the safety of the truck, apparently, was not going to be an option. A large arm snaked out to halt what little progress he was making. It wrapped around his waist, pulling him back to face Rafe and Brown.

"Is this how you interpret 'take him home, straight home, no stops, no excuses'? Because if it is, Brown, we have to have a little talk about your language comprehension skills, my friend."

A laser like glare seemed to cut through the two fidgeting men in front of Jim.

Rafe blanched slightly, while Henri had the good sense to look sheepish and regretful.

"I'm sorry, Jim. But we wanted Blair to share in the celebration for the arrest of Tomas. He contributed to the bust as much if not more than anyone else. It was only dinner and a couple of beers. We got the kid to eat something!"

The intensity of the icy glared increased as it scanned quickly over the mostly eaten platter of greasy, spicy wings and half-eaten vegetables. Next the glare raked over the heavy lidded eyes of his young guide. Turning up his senses he tracked Blair's rapid heartbeat, shallow, congested breaths and dilated pupils. The scent of the food was faint on his charge but the smell of alcohol was not.

"How many is a couple, Chief?"

Blair shifted nervously on his feet and started to squirm at the hold on his waist tightened. "Ah, well, in this case it would mean five."

Rafe's eyes widened with surprise. "You had five beers, Blair! I've only had two."

"They were cold and it felt good on my sore throat! I didn't have to worry about driving! And it's Friday! No school or work or the station tomorrow! I ate, too. Give a guy a break!"

Blair's voice turned into an indignant whine. Trying to pull away from Jim's hold he tripped over the leg of the stool. A solid arm pulled him upright. He found himself anchored securely against his Blessed Protector's side, immobile but unscathed.

"I tried calling. Where's your cell phone?"

Blair paled noticeably and licked his lips nervously. "In my backpack."

"Which is where?"

An audible gulp made even Brown and Rafe wince. "In H's car."

A nod of silent acknowledgement from Jim was his only answer. Brown put down his drink and reached for his wallet to settle the tab, glancing anxiously at the big detective the whole time he paid the bill.

"Really, Jim. I'm sorry. We just meant to stay an hour and go home. Rafe, Hairboy and I got involved in watching the game, putting back a few beers and time got away from us. I'm sorry. I should have kept a closer eye on him. I know he's been a little on the pale side and that you've been worried about him. I just didn't think."

"I asked you to take him home because I trusted you. Both of you. Maybe I have to rethink that." Turning sharply and taking his charge with him, Jim headed for the door. "Let's go home, Junior. Can you get his pack out of your car?"

Both Rafe and Brown hustled out the door behind the other two as Jim dragged his unsteady partner along. Brown trotted to his vehicle to retrieve the leather bag. He returned to the truck just as Jim finished helping Blair's fumbling hands latch his seatbelt in place. Rafe stood sheepishly by the bed of the truck.

"Here, Jim. I'm sorry, man. You know both of us would rather lose our right arm than have something happen to the kid! He's okay, just a few beers under his belt. Don't blame him for my mistake."

Jim gave the man a hard look before answering. When he spoke, his voice was frustrated and tired.

"Caring about Blair is protecting him from bad guys and bad things, but mostly it's about making sure he has the best of everything there is to offer him in life. And that starts with making sure he's healthy and safe so he can enjoy it. That he learns responsibility and to deal with the consequences of his own actions. He could have alerted you to when an hour was up. He could have called a cab. He shouldn't have had to, since you were supposed to take him home, but he had options. He chose not to use them, like you chose to ignore your promise to me. This situation is of his own making with you two as contributing delinquents. I don't know where my head was."

A rattled, wet cough coupled with a soft moan of discomfort from the front seat of the truck reached his ears. "Excuse me, but it's late."

Jim jumped into the truck and exited the parking lot without a backward glance, leaving two chastised and depressed friends behind him.

***************************

The ride home had been quiet, due more to Blair's drowsy state than any lack of words either man wanted to say. Jim had been content to remain silent for no other reason that he needed the time to think about the situation and regain a hold on his temper. By the time he and Blair stepped off the elevator to the loft he had a better perspective on things.

Jim closed the front door behind him and leaned back against it. He watched as his roommate slid his backpack off his shoulder and dropped it to the floor under the coat rack. After toeing off his shoes, Blair hung his jacket up successfully after only two tries at finding a hook. His eyes remained downcast, avoiding the expectant gaze of his companion.

Wavering slightly, he hurried down the hall to the bathroom. Several minutes later he reappeared, stopping in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs.

By then, Jim had hung up his own jacket and was seated on the sofa. Blair shifted from foot to foot for several seconds before he summoned the courage to walk over to stand in front of Jim.

Blair pulled his gaze up from the floor and forced himself to meet Jim's pale blue eyes. He cleared his burning throat and immediately needed to cover his mouth to contain a heavily congested cough. After a moment, he recovered his breath and wiped away the tears the strain had produced from the corners of his eyes.

Jim listened closely to the rales in Blair's lungs and mentally calculated the increase in congestion from earlier, automatically running a full sensory check.

Blair's low, rough voice brought his attention back to focus on his soft words.

"I'm sorry I worried you, man. I know I was supposed to come straight home. I agreed to grab some food with H and Rafe, it wasn't their fault. They were just being nice. I really was only going to stay one hour. We just lost track of time. Honestly. I know how worried you must have been--"

"Worried and scared, Chief." Jim's voice was filled with love and concern. Blair swallowed with difficulty against the tightness in his throat and fought back a sudden flood of tears.

"-to- to come home to an empty loft with no note or phone call or anything. I'm so sorry for that, man. I am. I'll understand if you punish me for being so thoughtless."

Jim smiled slightly at the steady stream of sincere words and patted the cushion beside him in a welcoming gesture. Blair immediately moved closer and sat down. Both turned fractionally to make it easier to face each other and talk. Jim reached out and tugged gently on a strand of the young man's thick hair.

"Apology accepted. I can understand how something like this could have happened. I'm not happy about it, mind you, but I can see it. With Brown and Rafe urging you to go a long with it, I'll bet it was difficult to refuse." Rueful sympathy colored the older man's words.

"Yeah, well, it was, kind of. I mean I knew I should go home, but I so wanted to be a part of the celebration, the ritual, man. I don't get invited to hang out with the other detectives on my own often. I guess I let my pride get in the way of what's expected of me. I'm just so sorry I worried and- and scared you in the process."

Jim stared into the tired pale face of his charge. Draping a long arm across Blair's slender shoulders, he pulled the young man close to his side for a quick hug.

"Did you actually eat any of that food you guys called dinner?"

Blair grimaced before answering. "Two or three wings and a few vegetables. The wings were good, but the spices hurt my throat too much. The veggies were wilted. The beer seemed like the only thing I could get down easily."

"Too easily, I think."

Blair blushed and ducked his head. "I guess I over did it there. It just felt so good on my throat after the first one."

"Is it hurting more than this morning?"

"A little. Not so much now that the alcohol has numbed a few things, but my chest hurts from coughing."

Jim rested his palm on Blair's forehead, then tapped a flush cheek. "Fevers up, too. Monday morning we call Dr. Arden again. Maybe they can move your appointment up a few days."

"It's just a cold, Jim!"

"Maybe. But it's gone down into your lungs. It won't hurt to let the doctor see you a few days early."

Unable to work up the energy to protest further, Blair simply sighed and nodded. Leaning back against the couch cushions, he closed his eyes and let the faint lingering buzz from the alcohol lull him into a light doze.

Jim studied his roommate's pale face as the young man began to relax. As the grad student's head began to slide to one side, Jim reached out and gently shook his shoulder.

"Come on, Chief. We both need to eat something. Help me throw together some leftovers. Do you think you could get some pasta down or some applesauce?"

Blair's eyes popped open. He straightened himself up and blinked up at his companion.

"Uh? Oh, ah, pasta might be good. But I don't want any sauce on it, okay? Just a little butter to help it slide down." Jim pulled the drowsy young man up and nudged him towards the kitchen.

"Okay then. I'll put on a pan of water to boil while you get out the plates. Can you find the grated cheese in the fridge while you're over there?"

Blair put out plates and gathered silverware. Turning to the fridge he pulled out two bottles of water and rooted around until he found the item Jim had requested. While the big man emptied a jar of spaghetti sauce into a pan and pulled a package of dry pasta from the pantry cabinet, Blair rested his weight against the work counter and watched.

Seeing the older man perform the mundane ritual of preparing a meal in the comfort and security of their home, Blair was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of contentment and deep affection tinged with shame. After restlessly moving around the room for a few minutes, Blair finally came to a stop by the kitchen table.

"Jim?"

The detective glanced over his shoulder long enough to catch the sad expression on Blair's face. "What's up, Chief?"

"You haven't said what my punishment is going to be yet. For breaking my grounding, worrying you, not calling, letting my ego talk me into doing something I knew I shouldn't."

Jim turned from the stovetop and adopted a relaxed pose against a post and faced the youth. "What do you think I should do about it?"

"Me?"

"Yes. What do you think is an appropriate punishment for the situation?"

Blair scowled and picked at the corner of his shirt hem. "Why do I have to pick something?"

"You're always saying our 'discussions' are one sided. You want more say so in things, you suggest something that would help you remember not to repeat tonight's performance."

Blair stared wide-eyed with surprise and blinked hard as his groggy mind frantically tried to come up with what he thought would be an acceptable solution.

"I 'd have to think about it some."

Jim walked over and turned the young man around by his shoulders, gently guiding him toward a familiar corner of the living room. "Why don't you think about it over here where you can concentrate. Dinner will be about half an hour anyway. We'll kill two birds with one stone. After dinner, we'll talk and then we can both get to bed before midnight."

Too stunned by Jim request for input to begin with, Blair half-heartedly assumed his corner time position and quietly turned his thoughts to the problem he had been handed. He needed a solution that answered both the seriousness of the offenses and eased his guilty conscious for worrying the one person in the world whom he couldn't bear to disappoint or hurt.

Part of him wanted to say that it had been a small error, not deserving of punishment, but a bigger part of him stepped forward and reminded him of the facts. He had willfully disobeyed Jim, allowed his ego to sway his better judgement, stayed out past curfew and forgotten to call and let Jim know where he was. Add to all that the fact that he really hadn't eaten dinner and his cold symptoms were worsening, his taxed conscience was squirming restlessly.

Thinking about how concerned and scared Jim must have been when he arrived home and found an empty loft and no message caused his throat to tighten and tears to burn at the back of his eyes. Remembering his misplaced cell phone that had probably been ringing repeatedly out in Henri's car pushed the tears to overflowing. Silent tears continued to stream down his face until a soft command from behind broke through his misery.

"Come here, Chief." Strong arms enfolded him as he launched himself into the older man's embrace. Securing a firm grip around Jim's waist, Blair buried his face in the other man's chest and continued to sob.

"I'm sorry."

"I know. It'll be all right."

"I'm sorry I scared y-you!"

"We're fine here, Junior. Just relax. We're fine."

Jim rubbed circles over Blair's back and shoulders until the tears were reduced to sniffles and an occasional shiver. Pushing back on the slender figure wrapped around him, Jim managed to free up his movements enough to maneuver them both to the table. Blair wiped at his streaked face and gestured toward the hallway.

"I'll be right back. I want to wash up, okay?"

"Sure, Chief. I'll have dinner on the table by the time you get back. Take a couple of Motrin while you're in there for your throat. I can tell it's still hurting you."

"Okay."

Blair reappeared five minutes later, flushed and disheveled but clear eyed and calmer. The meal was quick and quiet as both men concentrated on their food.

Jim ate heartily and watched as Blair managed to down half his buttered pasta before settling for a tall glass of ice water to finish off his meal. Playing with the rim of his empty glass, Blair waited until Jim looked over at him to start the inevitable conversation.

"I've thought about everything and I think you need to punish me for what happened tonight the way you always p-punish me."

Jim pushed back his plate and gave Blair a thoughtful gaze. "How's that, Chief? More grounding, corner time, loss of privileges?"

Blair colored a bit around his ears and across his cheeks as he stammered out the answer. "N-no. This was too serious. A-a spanking."

Jim took a minute to watch as the young man shifted restlessly in his chair and increased his fidgeting with the glass and silverware before him.

"What makes this so serious in your mind, Chief?"

Blair stopped fussing with the tableware and stared at the big man. "Because. I worried you. I disappointed you. I-I hurt you. I never meant to do those things. I didn't think about how you would feel or how my not being home would look. I was being selfish and childish. I-I wanted-- I wanted to do something you wouldn't like while you were somewhere where you probably wouldn't find out right away."

"Right away?"

"Yeah. I knew H and Rafe would eventually mention our night out to celebrate to you. It would be unreasonable of me to think they wouldn't talk about it in normal conversation at the station. They didn't know I wasn't allowed to go out. I mean, they don't, do they?"

Jim caught the panic in the youth's voice and immediately calmed his worries.

"No, they don't know. They understand that you're spending your free time at the station with me, but they don't know how grounded you really are. That's between us, unless you want to include them."

"No, this is fine. It's a little embarrassing, you know. Being grounded and everything, but I guess that's part of the deterrent factor, huh? If I'm embarrassed enough, maybe I'll think twice about doing something irresponsible enough to get me grounded."

"That's a part of it, Chief." Jim reached out and tapped Blair's reddened face, gently rubbing a thumb over the tear stains still visible to the sentinel's sight.

"You're never a disappointment to me, Chief. You never could be. Remember that. Okay, Let's get this over with so we can bag some shut eye, what do you say?"

Blair blinked back fresh tears at the big man's words and nodded. He stood up from the table, heaving a sigh in acceptance of his own decision. Blair watched as Jim moved his chair well back from the table and positioned himself comfortably.

"You ready to tell me why you went with them?"

"I don't know why?"

"Okay-- for now. You're sure about this, Chief?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Jim."

Moving to the man's right side, Blair sucked in his lower lip as he unzipped and lowered his jeans to his knees. Jim reach up and guided the trembling body over his lap, securing the small form tightly against his own body with an arm around Blair's waist.

Resting a large hand on Blair's back, Jim rubbed soothing circles across the low back presented to him to reassure and calm his nervous young charge. His efforts were rewarded after a few moments by a lessening of the tension in the body stretched over his thighs. Jim moved his hand and tightened his grip on the slim waist. Quickly tugging Blair's boxers down below his backside, he immediately landed the first swat to the pale flesh.

Blair firm resolve to remain strong and quiet quickly slipped from his grasp. Each new swat to his butt brought a new wave of burning pain until a constant fire blazed in his backside from the top of his cheeks to the top of his thighs. Tears fell silently from his eyes until one choked sob escaped, paving the way for the spontaneous release of a soft wail of distress and gasping sobs.

"I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!"

The spanking paused briefly as the older man replied. "I know. Believe me, I know. Your making this decision showed me that. We're almost done here."

The sobbing continued and lasted long after the swats halted. Jim pulled up the boxers and slipped off Blair's jeans. Turning the distraught boy in his arms, he supported the slender figure against his chest and tucked Blair's head under his own. Jim whispered soft words of comfort and reassurance in the curl covered ear near his chin. Gradually the sobs faded to be replaced by sniffles and breathy, congested, little gasps.

After several minutes, Jim pulled back and stood up, bring his charge this him. Grabbing the discarded jeans off the couch with one hand, the older man maintained a steadying grip on Blair with the other. Slowly he guided the grad student down the hall to his room, keeping the shivering body close to his own to provide warmth and comfort.

Blair slipped off his socks and slid under the covers held open by Jim. Lying face down, he rubbed hesitantly at his burning butt with both hands. He swiped his face across his pillowcase before turning to catch the other man's attention as Jim tucked the blankets in place and stood to fold Blair's jeans over the desk chair.

"Jim?"

The soft tentative voice made the detective turn to face the bed.

"I didn't mean to hurt and upset you. I would never purposely do that. I-I guess I wanted to get back at you a little for not taking me to the murder scene with you last week. I'm your partner, I wanted to go with you."

Jim looked down at his disheveled young partner with concern. Sitting on the edge of the bed he put out a hand and began to rub absently at Blair's back.

"We talked about that already, Chief. You know I was only trying to protect you from the more graphic aspects of the case. It wasn't that I didn't want you there. You just didn't need to be exposed to every part of it. I thought you understood that."

"I did, but- but it started to feel like you were leaving me behind all the time. Leaving me with 'friends', Simon at the station and when you were in the hospital and H and Rafe tonight. Having other people looking out for me while you were gone. It- it just started to feel a little like Naomi. Like when she would leave me with people and go off to do things without me, even when I was old enough to join in. B-because she didn't want me around anymore."

Jim pulled Blair around to look him in the face and deftly lifted him into his lap in one smooth motion. Taking the young face between both large palms, Jim stared intently into Blair's dark blue eyes.

"Don't you ever think I want you out of my life, young man. I am not Naomi, nor will I ever be like Naomi. You are my life, my best friend, my partner and my son. None of those positions are negotiable. Those positions are permanently filled. You got that, Junior?" A slight shake of Blair's face accompanied the last few words.

An embarrassed but delighted smile animated the youth's puffy, reddened face.

"Yeah, man, I got it. You really don't look anything like Naomi anyway."

"Damn straight. I don't have enough hair for one thing and those flowery caftan things creep me out. Kind of like a witch's robe or something."

"Jim!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just my subconscious talking out loud. But don't be surprised if I hide the broom when she visits from now on."

"JIM!"

Jim ruffled the messy curls and stood, swinging his burden around and back under the covers. Blair turned on his side and reached out a hand to snag Jim's arm as he stood to walk away.

"I know you're not my mom, I just get a little unnerved by things if I think about them too long. I know you won't leave me in my heart but sometimes my head remembers too many things from before."

"From before what?"

"From before I had a home. Had a real parent, had a family, had you."

Jim leaned over and landed a kiss on Blair's forehead pushing his head back against the pillows. A gentle touch to one cheek and Jim pulled up right.

"I love you, Chief. Always will. You are my family, my son and what makes this loft into a home. It was just an apartment before you came along, even when

Carolyn was here. You're the difference between my living a life and my having a life. We're on solid ground here."

Tears blurred the young man's vision and threatened to fall once more. Brushing wearily at them, Blair smiled up at his Blessed Protector and sat up far enough to plant a kiss on the big man's cheek. Pleased surprise colored Jim's eyes.

"I love you too, 'Dad'." A cocky grin light up Blair's expression.

Jim chuckled and pushed off the bed to stand. Walking to the doorway, he turned towards the bed as he clicked off the light.

"Get some sleep, Trouble. I'll see you in the morning, 'son'." As he closed the door, sentinel hearing picked up a softly muttered, "I kind of like saying that." Jim grin widened and he shut the door, slightly shaking his head in wonder at the mass of confusion and brilliance the world called Blair Sandburg, the child of his heart.

By early Sunday morning Blair's cold symptoms had increased. His head pounded, his throat was raw from mouth breathing, his sinuses so congested he could hardly breath, his fever was unbroken by antipyretics and his skin had begun to irritate him in places. Mid-Sunday morning found both men in the emergency department of Cascade General with an outpatient appointment with their private MD.

Shortly after being placed in a room, Blair coughed so hard the top of his head felt like it was coming off. Involuntary sobs racked his tired body. Sobs turned into another strained hacking cough as secretions ran down the back of his throat. Suddenly unable to catch his breath, Blair bent over and grabbed for the support of the nearby wall as vertigo struck him.

Strong arms caught hold of him and lifted him into the air. Jim gently eased his charge down onto the stretcher, raised the head of the gurney and quickly covered him with a blanket, all without breaking physical contact. Dr. Arden entered the cubicle and immediately joined Jim in comforting Blair until his distress had eased.

"Well, that was a effective demonstration of your symptoms, Blair. A list would have been enough for both of us though. Hi, Jim."

"Morning, Doc. Sorry to drag you out, but as you heard, he's getting worse." Jim continued to support some of Blair's weight as the young man leaned his upper body against him. Jim rubbed soothingly at his back careful to avoid a few spots were his skin was now irritated. "He's got this rash or irritation of some kind on his stomach and back today, too. Maybe an allergic reaction or something, I don't know."

Dr. Arden's eyebrows rose at this last piece of information. "Let me see the rash, Blair. Where is it the worst?"

"On my stomach, I think. At least, it itches the most there." Blair pulled up his shirt and automatically began to scratch at the raised pustules dotted across his abdomen. Jim's hand immediately captured his wrist and gently tugged it away from the rash as the doctor examined it. Moving around the stretcher, the doctor checked Blair's back also. Pulling in deep breath, Dr. Arden lowered Blair's shirt and walked back around to face his patient and his protector.

"Well. I'm going to order a blood titer, to confirm my diagnosis and a chest x-ray to check on the lung congestion but I'm positive what we've got here gentlemen is a common illness."

"See, Jim. I told you it was just a cold, man." Blair's nasally voice combined with his sore throat made it almost impossible to hear him.

Dr. Arden cleared his throat before the detective could answer. "Well. No, I didn't say that. It's uncommon in adults, but certainly not unheard of, but you have picked up a case of chicken pox, young man."

"CHICHEN POX! No way, man! That's what kids get! I've never been sick with any of those childhood diseases. Ask Naomi!"

"That's probably part of the problem. You have no natural immunities built up. You should have if you received all your childhood immunization, but for some reason you don't. It happens sometimes, but usually with the non-immunized. It isn't a pleasant experience as an adult and we'll have to keep a watchful eye on that lung congestion as it could lead to pneumonia in some cases like this, but with treatment it shouldn't be too bad."

"I thought he just had a cold. This has been going on for 10-12 days now."

"Early symptoms can present like a cold. He probably came in contact with it shortly before that. A child that had it or he touched something they had touched while they were contagious."

"Is Blair contagious?"

"To other people who haven't had it or don't have the immunities like he didn't. So, yes he is. At least while the pustules are weeping. Once they dry out, he's safe to have visitors. That won't be for several days if not a week or so. I'm going to order those labs and x-ray and then you can take him home. I'll write up a couple of prescriptions for several things including antibiotics to try to prevent that congestion from becoming pneumonia. There will be a discharge sheet with instructions for helping to ease the itching and caring for his skin, too. Do you have any questions, Blair?"

Turning disbelieving eyes to the doctor, Blair only shook his head. Jim patted a stray strand of hair back off his forehead and looked back at the MD.

"Can he have something for his cough? It's making his head pound until he's sick to his stomach."

"Sure. I'll be back in a minute with everything. Once they get the film and the blood work you can leave. I'll call you with the results later in the day."

"Thanks, Doc. We appreciate this."

"Yeah, thanks, man, um, Dr. Arden."

"It's all right, Blair. At least this way I can get that lab work drawn that you've been avoiding. Captive audience so to speak." With a cheery little smile, Dr. Arden exited the cubicle.

Jim turned to his charge and pushed back his hair enough to look him in the eye. "Do you remember getting your shots as a kid, Chief?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. Naomi would have seen to that. I mean that was important. It was for my health. Anyway, with all the travelling we did, I'm sure I would have had to have had them for my passport."

"Which Naomi had forged."

"But she wouldn't have endangered my life, would she?" Blair's voice pleaded with Jim to say it was all right, that his mother had taken care of him, protected him, safe guarded his life with these simple choices like immunization shots. Jim sighed inwardly and pasted a small smile on his face.

"I'm sure she would have, Chief. That's an easy thing to do and she could have taken you to any clinic in the country for them."

"Yeah, man, she would have."

"It's just your natural trouble magnet personality shining through, Chief." Jim teased and taunted the youth, trying to distract his thoughts from Naomi. Jim felt certain the woman hadn't bothered with Blair's childhood immunizations, with her need to leave an undocumented trail behind her and her dislike of western medicine. He wondered briefly what other problems this might cause with Blair's health in the future. Pulled from his introspection by the sound of scratching Jim tugged Blair's hand out from under his shirt again.

"I see I need to do some shopping before we go home. The mall is open on Sundays isn't it?"

"The mall? Yeah, it is, but what for?"

"The way you keep scratching there, I think we need to find one of those one piece pajama things. You know, with the zipper in the front and the feet sewn in."

"Jim!"

"Some of them even have a flap in the back, you know."

"JIM!"

"Look like little bunny suits. You'd make a cute bunny, Chief! See, you scrunch your nose up just like a rabbit."

"JJJIIIIIIMMMMMMMMMMM!"

end