"You wanna get that, Chief, before my ears fall off?"

"Nah. I'm tired and it'll just be bad news."

Jim rolled his eyes and walked to the phone, but the ringing cut off abruptly before he reached it.

After a beep and a few clicks, Simon's nasal baritone filled the loft. "Sorry to interrupt you on your day off, Detective. We've got a little situation and we're calling in all hands. If you get this, I need you to call me and come down to the station, ASAP. Oh, and bring the rookie, too."

Blair rolled his eyes at that last part and ambled over to the couch where he threw himself down as if he'd never get up again. Never might be overstating it, but 'no time soon' was sounding pretty good. His throbbing feet and nascent headache seemed to agree wholeheartedly. "Told you. So much for the night off."

"Far be it for me to point out the obvious, but I didn't actually answer it."

"But you were going to. Some people believe that our intentions can change our world--like precognitive karma or something," Blair said with a careless wave of his hand at the invisible forces of the universe.

Jim picked up his gun holster and shrugged it back on. As he adjusted the straps, he walked towards the couch. "Like many things, you say, I'm going to assume that this is more of that shoot-from-the-hip Sandburg B.S. that I can ignore."

"If I weren't so wiped, my feelings might be hurt," Blair said around a jaw-cracking yawn. "You know, there's no way for him to know that we got the message. We could...hey!" Blair cried as Jim snagged his arm and tugged him back into a seated position.

Jim gently rubbed the nearly invisible finger marks he'd left on Blair's upper arm. "I'm sure you were going to say that we could do our civic duty and haul our asses down to the station." His rubbing slowed, deepened.

Mollified by the arm massage, Blair leaned back into the sofa and groaned with satisfaction. "Maybe if you do a little more of that--and not just my arm--I might be persuaded to get up from this couch."

Instead, Jim slid his hand up into the short curls of Blair's nape, pulled him close, and kissed him softly--more of a tease than a real embrace. He drew back and whispered, "More of that after we get back, but only if you come along nicely."

"Damn," Blair whispered back. "I'm seeing advantages in a career in law enforcement that I never considered before. Screw the criminal element. Once we're partners, we could go on stakeouts and just neck all night. "

Jim cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "I hope you're not doing anything like that with your current partner."

Blair snorted. "Not likely. Joel's a great guy and a good mentor, but I don't think I'm his type." He reached up to trace Jim's jaw, letting his fingers drift across the angle of Jim's neck. "With you, on the other hand, I've got everything I..."

The phone rang again, cutting off what he'd been about to say.

"Ellison! Sandburg! This is your Captain, again. If I found out that you two are ignoring this message--"

But Jim was crouched in a corner of the room, eyes scrunched up tight. Hands over his ears. Screaming.

The absence of sound only made it worse.

The image disappeared with a click and a flash of static against Blair's hand. He glared up at Simon. "I was watching that!"

"Sandburg, you've seen it over a dozen times. We've already determined that there's nothing on that tape that's going to tell us where Jim is. We need to concentrate on that witness."

Blair turned to stare at the blank screen. Off. On. Didn't matter. Every moment of the five minute scene was etched into his memory where it could never be erased. Blank white walls, ceiling, and floor. Flickering blue-white fluorescent light, recessed into the ceiling. A small hole throwing spinning, grey shadows. An air vent, he finally realized.

During the first minute of the tape, Jim stood by the vent, inhaling like a man who'd been deprived of oxygen, but then his face changed--turned red and then he darted to the opposite side of the cell, almost out of range of the camera, coughing and sputtering.

A minute later, he clamped his hands over his ears and started screaming.

Only fifteen minutes and then this shift was over, thank goodness. In between quick glances to the clock on the wall, h added his final words, skimmed the report, hit 'print' and leaned back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Blair, you done yet?" Henri Brown called across the room in a harried voice.

"Stick a fork in me," Blair replied. He snatched the freshly printed report out of the printer tray and walked it across the room. "If I have to placate one more 'concerned citizen of Cascade' I may not be responsible for my actions."

Henri grinned and took the paper Blair offered to add it to the stack on his desk. "Where's that Man of the People we used to know and love?"

"He's long gone, brother. Saving the world from packets of cornstarch, just doesn't do it for me."

"You know, it actually could have been some deadly substance."

"But it wasn't, which makes this whole day a monumental waste of time. Hate to say it, but I almost wish there had been some real crime to fight, today."

"I hear you," Henri said with a nod. "Jim and I are gonna be swamped tomorrow because we spent so much time on this crap, today."

"The O'Malley case?"

"Yup. Might even have to pull a couple of late nights to get the D.A.'s office to stop breathing down our necks. Can't wait 'til it's over. I've been missing the play-offs."

"You ever heard of a little invention they call a VCR, Brown? Wave of the future."

As Henri started pontificating about the disadvantages of watching the game on replay, some movement across the room caught Blair's attention. Jim was coming out of Simon's office, looking like someone had keyed his truck's shiny paint job.

Blair jogged across the room to catch up to Jim. Before he has time to consider whether he's sounding naggy or overworried, he asks, "Everything okay?"

Jim looked down at him, the irritation on his face transforming into a small smile. It's a sight that never failed to make Blair catch his breath.

"No biggie. Seems that one of the witnesses is housebound and Simon wants me to go over there and take her statement. As luck would have it, she lives out in the boondocks, so I'll be late tonight."

Blair exhaled with relief that it was nothing more serious. He figured that one of these days, he was going to stop imagining the worst--maybe when he and Jim were partnered again and he didn't have to wonder. "But there's no real threat. This is probably some idiot's idea of a practical joke."

Jim nodded. "Probably, but joke or not, the city's up in arms about bioterrorism. If we don't take all the threats seriously and one of them happens to be real, the mayor's gonna have our heads."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that I was looking forward to tonight." It had been a week since either of them was home at the same time. "I was thinking we could order Indian food tonight. It's too late to cook, but I'm ravenous." His stomach grumbles to solidify the last point.

An unreadable look crossed Jim's face before his eyes lifted to quickly scan the bullpen. He looked down at Blair, again, and patted him on the shoulder, the touch lingering just long enough for Blair to feel a tingle down his arm, but short enough that it wouldn't raise any eyebrows.

Blair smiled at the thought of Jim's eventual homecoming and what they might do when they had some privacy. "The landlord fixed the drain, so I was going to soak in the tub for a while." He stepped back and stretched, listening to the satisfying pop of his back and hoping Jim was imagining him naked and soapy.

"Sandburg!" Jim said with a strangled whisper.

Blair lowered his arms and looked at Jim with what he hoped was wide-eyed innocence. "Yes?"

Jim scowled, but his lips twitched with suppressed humor. "I'll get you back for that. If I zone out while I'm talking to this woman, you'll have yourself to blame when they lock me in a padded cell."

Blair grinned and apologized and made a whispered promise to make it up to Jim. The door opened behind Jim.

"Sandburg! Ellison! The city doesn't pay you to socialize," Simon barked. "As long as you haven't punched out, feel free to earn your paycheck."

"Yes, sir," Blair replied with a jaunty salute behind the captain's retreating back, before leaving Jim and heading back to his desk. The clock told him that he had five minutes to go. He made himself busy while he waited for the time to pass. With any luck, Jim's interview wouldn't take long and they'd have a long night to make up for lost time.

He pulled his sleeve over his face to block out the smell. The room was reeking of it, so thick and acrid it was a wonder he could even breathe. He looked around and found it empty...except for the figure crumpled in the corner. Blair called over his shoulder for the paramedics, as he practically stumbled over his own feet to reach Jim. He shouts again for help, choking every time he takes a breath.

Jim didn't rouse to the shake of his shoulder or Blair's shouts. His face was pale, except for the blotchy red of his cheeks. His breath came in short, harsh pants through lips that were dry and cracked. One hand draped loosely over his ear, the fingertips strangely darkened. The other hand trailed on the floor, as if he didn't have the strength to lift it. Those fingers were also darkened with what looked like soot, at first.

Blair leaned in a little closer. Underneath the darkness, there were tiny blisters and open spots on Jim's fingers. A glance around to see what might have caused the damage, revealed only a small, metal sink, protruding from the wall, just like the ones you might find in any prison cell.

Strangely, there was a tangle of wires dangling under the sink. Blair frowned and looked back at Jim's hand...at the wounds that looked like electrical burns. He heard footsteps.

One of the other officers on the scene, a rookie who had been in Blair's class at the Police Academy, was reaching for the sink.

Before Blair could scream out of his warning, he was blinded by arcs of light, shooting out from the sink, the sizzling smell of electricity, and the rookie's screams of pain...

"Listen to me, Sandburg. Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, damn it, Captain. I heard every word you had to say. Do you think you can give me a minute to process it?"

Process? What a laugh. He can't even begin to comprehend the basic concepts. "Why didn't Jim take Henri with him? Or a uniform?" Or himself. Why hadn't he gone with Jim? Instead, he'd been soaking in some stupid, fucking bathtub while Jim disappeared.

"Does she know anything at all?"

Simon shook his head. "Just that Alex Barnes is her daughter. She didn't even know that Alex had escaped. You'd think the psych hospital would have notified her."

Blair grimaced and clenched his fists. He felt so fucking *useless.* "I didn't even know she had any living relatives." He remembered the look on Alex's face when he'd asked about her family history. When she'd said 'orphan' and 'foster care' that look had been so convincing--buried pain, loneliness, no cunning at all. It never occurred to him that she was selling him a load of crap, not even after he'd discovered the extent of her lies.

She'd held to a gun to his head and drowned him, but he could still feel betrayed by her fairytales.

He watched through the interview room's one-way window. Joel's back was to him, leaving the woman facing the observation room. Those deep blue eyes gave Blair a chill. Despite the wrinkles and the white hair, the resemblance was obvious. She looked up and seemed to be staring straight at him. Blair knew they couldn't be seen, but he still turned away.

Simon was standing behind him, his jaw so tight, Blair could hear teeth grinding. The only other betrayal of his worry was he cigar spinning over and around his fingers, over and over again, always looking like it would fall, but catching itself and swinging on a fulcrum to the next finger. He stared at Simon's hands and saw Jim's hands, instead, saw them holding him while he worked through the shakes. Then he imagined them pummeling Alex and he felt queasy that he could think such a thing, even about her. He looked around for a chair because he suddenly felt like he couldn't take a deep breath without screaming. The sharp feel of wood biting the back of his thighs was a relief.

"We've got to get you to safety," Simon was saying.

Blair whipped his head up to gape at the captain. "You can't lock me out of this! I'm on the case until we find Jim!"

"Absolutely not. The woman tried to kill you!"

"Did kill, remember?" The breath that had been stuck in his chest exploded out in a harsh laugh. "Maybe she came back to do the job right, eh?" He jumped a little when Simon squatted in front of him and grabbed his wrists in a punishing grip.

"Sandburg, this is no time for jokes. If she would threaten her own mother..."

"And where has this mother been? When Alex was hospitalized? When she woke up? During the freaking trial? How do we know she's not in on this?"

"Joel is getting all the details, but we have no evidence of contact between them for the past years. Believe me, if she has anything to do with it, we'll find out. And we're keeping an eye on her house and phone lines, in case Alex contacts her."

"Jim's not just one of my men. He's a good friend. I'll get him back. I won't let her get away with this."

Though Blair wanted to insist that Simon didn't need to take all the responsibility onto his shoulders, he held silent and let the promises soothe him. He knew, better than anyone, that the resolve in Simon's voice was not bravado. Simon would keep his promise, even if it meant getting in the trenches, at risk to himself. That selflessness was one of the things he'd always liked about the gruff captain and a quality that Jim and Simon had in common.

Beyond the doors, Blair could hear muffled footsteps, the murmur of voices, and the scrape of wheeled carts across the hallway floor. But in this room, the hush of imminent death hung heavy in the air.

He squeezed his fingers a little tighter, feeling the cool clamminess of the hand in his.

"Are you still there?" he asked before waiting for a flutter of eyelashes, a nod of the head, or any sign that his words hadn't gone unnoticed.

There. Those blue eyes hadn't changed from all the times he remembered them, even framed by dark circles and pallid flesh.

"Can you still talk?"

He wasn't surprised by the lack of response, just disappointed beyond belief. The doctors had told him to expect this. Blair had listened and cataloged all their advice, had absorbed their warnings about the futility of his hopes, but still forced himself to sit here and bear witness, when this was the last place he wanted to be. In the end, there was nowhere else he could be.

"I just need you to tell me. Tell me the truth."

Still no response, except maybe a quick, extra breath. Then he remembered that the doctor had said this might happen at the end. A chill crept down his spine at the thought that his wait might be over.

He looked around the room, surprised to find himself alone. It seemed that just a few minutes ago, the others had been here: the doctor, the nurse, the hospital chaplain. Then he turned a bit more and saw Simon standing across the room, leaning against the wall, his face downturned. That didn't surprise Blair. Simon would never have left him alone at a time like this. He would also stand as a witness and later they could glean whatever they could from these last moments.

The bed sheets rustled and Blair looked back at the bed, awash with fear and anticipation. He held his breath until it burned in his chest and waited--waited for a word, a look, anything that would get rid of this god-awful feeling that his world was ending.

He stood and leaned over the bed, as close as he could get, and whispered, "What is it?"

Warm, stale breath puffed across his cheek and he heard the words he'd feared he would never hear. His heart was fluttering in his chest and he could hardly breathe, but he chanted those precious words, lest he forget them. He fell back into his chair with a hard thump and muttered the words under his breath like a talismanic meditation.

One thing they didn't warn him about was how death could fool you. How it could seem like the person was just sleeping when, really, they were gone for good. He leaned back, expecting...actually, not knowing what he expected, but expecting something.

A warm weight fell on his shoulder and he resisted the urge to shake it off. People thought it helped, but sometimes it made everything worse, made it impossible to drift away from reality. He looked up at Simon. If only the hand had been Jim's, followed by a pat on the cheek or maybe that secret twinkle in Jim's eye when he thought no one was looking. Blair fantasized that Jim had played some masterful joke on them all and he was be laughing at how well he'd hoodwinked them into thinking he was gone.

Of course, it was none of that.

Simon's voice filtered through Blair's fog. "Did she say anything? Did she give us a clue? I've got a team ready to go if she did."

Blair thought he'd be shouting the words, that he'd be the first one running out of Alex's room, to find Jim. But her last words left him with fear that kept him frozen and mute. What if she'd lied? What if it was too late to find Jim? What if the bullet that killed her, took Jim along with it?

"Blair, if you know something, tell me so we can go. Blair, we have to go!"

Blair swatted Jim's hand away and stood on tiptoes to peer over Jim's shoulder. "I changed my mind. Maybe we should wait until we get home. What if someone sees us?"

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Is this *my* Blair Sandburg? Acting shy? Will wonders never cease?"

Blair laughed and punched at Jim's belly. "Okay, okay. You've found out my secret, the bones rattling in my skeleton, my Achilles heel."

"Your kryptonite. Shyness."

"I wouldn't take it that far. And it won't kill me, after all."

"Never heard of dying of embarrassment, Professor?"

"Well if I die of embarrassment from being caught necking with you, it might not be such a bad way to go. I just didn't think that *you'd* be into public displays of affection."

Jim looked around the parking lot. "Public? What public? I could probably strip naked and no one would notice."

Blair felt his face heat up at that bit of mental imagery. Then he felt the gentle brush of Jim's fingertips against his cheek."

"My, my. Blushing?"

Blair turned his face and caught one of Jim's fingers between his teeth, nipping it a little, before letting go. "You're deliberately trying to provoke me."

"And, from what I can tell, I'm succeeding beyond my wildest imagination."

"Oh, just kiss me before someone comes along to gawk."

Jim cast a glance heavenwards and sighed. "Finally, the man talks some sense. I knew all that schooling wouldn't go to waste."

Blair might have punished Jim by changing his mind about the kiss, if it wouldn't mean punishing himself.