Disclaimer: This is an amateur work of fiction, written purely for fun, and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights associated with the television production, "The Sentinel".

A first season AU. Jim and Blair meet under very different circumstances.
Rated PG13 for language and violence.

Author's notes: Many thanks go to Debbye, who served as both alpha and beta reader on this one. It started out as just a few short scenes to feed an angst addiction. It never would have made it into a complete story without her nagging...um...gentle nudging. Any and all remaining mistakes are strictly my own. Constructive criticism welcome.

This one's for Kim. Thank you so much for your generosity!

Mark of the Beast
by: ysone

"Nathan Wester," the big man said, sticking out his hand.

Simon took the offered hand and returned the introduction. "Captain Simon Banks. This is Detective Jim Ellison."

Jim shook the man's hand, trying to ignore the prickling on the back of his neck at the contact. For some strange reason, Wester had Jim instantly on guard. And apparently, judging by the flicker of suspicion in the other man's eyes, the feeling was mutual.

Jim pulled his hand back, resisting the urge to wipe it on his pants leg. He let his gaze linger on Wester, taking in the man's appearance. The detective from Seattle was a big man, as tall as Simon but much bulkier. The extra bulk spoke of muscles that were only hinted at beneath the well-cut suit. Wester was close to Jim's age, but with a wariness in the cold gray eyes that made him look much older. From the close cropped brown hair to the stiff posture, everything about Wester screamed military.

Unaware of the instant tension between the two detectives, Simon gestured to the conference table, indicating they should sit. "Detective Wester, I was under the impression you would be accompanied by your partner."

"Unofficial partner, actually," Wester clarified as he took a seat. "Associate would be a better description. I sent him looking for coffee. I guess he got lost. The kid has no sense of direction. He'll figure it out and join us in a moment, I'm sure."

Right on cue, there was a soft knock on the door. Simon made a detour and opened it to reveal a young man holding a Styrofoam cup of steaming black liquid.

Jim sat up straighter. This was Wester's partner? He couldn't be much more than twenty...twenty-two tops. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail at his neck, exposing two small silver hoops in his left ear. Jim looked from Wester to the kid, wondering how two such diametrically opposed individuals could have ended up working together. Jim couldn't see Wester giving this guy so much as the time of day.

"Hi," the kid said, entering the room and setting the coffee before Wester. He wiped his hand on his pants and extended it to Simon. "How ya doing? Blair Sandburg."

Simon suppressed a smile and took the offered hand, introducing himself, then turning to introduce Jim. Sandburg shook Jim's hand before sliding into a seat beside Wester. Jim saw Sandburg open his mouth to say something, but a sharp look from Wester and the kid quickly shut it again, dropping his gaze to the tabletop.

"Okay," Simon said, "let's get down to business." Simon sat down, pushing a thin report folder across the table to Wester. He waited until the Seattle detective opened the file, then continued. "Six robberies in three weeks, the same MO as the four cases in Seattle we wired you about. All with the earmarks of Thomas Svalina."

Wester paged through the report on Svalina. Jim knew what it said and knew that Wester was already familiar with what it had to say.

"Seems pretty cut and dry," Wester observed.

"Except that Svalina is laying in a grave in Shreveport," Jim calmly informed the Seattle detective. "And has been since August." Weeks before the last three robberies.

Wester raised an eyebrow at the information. "Copycat?"

"It would appear so on the surface," Simon agreed. "But this is almost too good. The MO is exactly the same as Svalina's, right down to the last detail. If it weren't for the fact that Svalina is dead, you would never convince me it wasn't him."

"Svalina worked alone," Wester observed. "He never had a partner." Wester turned his attention back to the file in his hand. "Well, this complicated things a bit. I thought we had this pretty well figured out: Svalina pulled the four jobs in Seattle before moving on to Cascade."

"It gets worse," Simon frowned, picking up a couple of additional folders and handing them over to Wester. "Both open and shut cases. Or so we thought. Both obvious MOs that led to arrests within hours. Both men swear to their innocence."

"Huh!" Wester let out a snort of derision. "That's a first," he said sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, in light of this new info on Svalina, I'm having second thoughts," Simon added. "Both Harcourt and Brace have distinctive MOs that pointed to them immediately. Both had served their time and been clean up until this stuff started."

"So they got desperate, or greedy," Wester retorted. "It's happened before. Once a sleaze bag, always a sleaze bag."

Jim's attention was drawn to the young man sitting silently beside the Seattle detective. Sandburg was frowning down at the table. It seemed he didn't exactly agree with his partner's assessment of the criminal element. Jim was inclined to disagree himself. It was true that the acorn didn't often fall far from the tree, but he'd seen too many turn their lives around to totally dismiss the notion that it was possible. Sandburg looked up, his dark blue eyes briefly meeting Jim's. The intensity of the gaze froze Jim in that moment. It was almost as if the young man sensed Jim's agreement over Wester's attitude. Then the gaze dropped and Jim was left feeling a momentary abandonment. He shook his head, dispelling the sensation and returned his attention to Simon.

"Regardless, I have two men looking into their alibis. But I think we should consider the possibility that we have a copycat out there with more than a passing knowledge of these men's methods."

"A cop would know," Sandburg stated, surprising both Jim and Simon. Until now the young man had been remarkably silent.

Wester threw a glance at the long-haired young man that seemed to whither the brief light of enthusiasm Jim had seen on the expressive face.

"Sorry," Sandburg quickly apologized. "Just thinking. Didn't mean to say that out loud."

"No, go ahead," Simon encouraged. "I'm open to any opinions at this point."

Sandburg lifted his eyes to meet Wester's, then dropped them again. "I don't really have an opinion, Captain Banks. Sorry."

"Everyone's thoughts are worth hearing around here," Jim said, correctly interpreting what was happening between the kid and Wester. "Go ahead."

Sandburg met Jim's gaze. The detective saw a flicker of appreciation in the deep blue orbs, and the kid actually managed a small smile of thanks...until his eyes found Wester's. The smile faded.

"You might as well go ahead now," Wester said, exasperation in his voice.

Sandburg broke his gaze away from Wester's with an effort, looking to Simon briefly, then to Jim. Jim tried to convey encouragement and understanding with his expression, and the young man must have grasped it, because he gave another small smile.

"I, um, I was just thinking that a cop would have access to that kind of detailed information."

"These crimes were committed in four different counties," Wester pointed out, sparing a scathing glare for his young observer.

"But the information is readily available in the statewide database," Simon reasoned. He turned his attention to Wester's partner. "That's a valid hypothesis, Sandburg. It gives us a new angle to work on."

The kid's face lit up in a mega-watt smile, until he caught Wester's glare. The smile quickly faded as the young man dropped his eyes to the table top. Jim tried to catch his gaze again, but for the rest of the meeting, he continued to study his clasped hands on the table before him.

~~~

Nathan had been in a bad mood all morning -- since they had arrived in Cascade, if Blair was honest with himself. Not that anyone else would notice. The biting remarks directed at Blair were nothing out of the ordinary. But Blair had noted tight lines around the man's mouth and eyes that told him his Sentinel was close to his limits. It was surprising, really. In the two years he had worked with Nathan, the man had learned a great deal of control. Seldom did the average stimulation affect him like this anymore. But the meeting would wind down soon, and they would go back to their hotel, where Blair could walk Nathan though a couple of exercises to help him relax and dial everything down.

If Nathan would even listen to him. He hadn't missed the glare of disgust the Sentinel had directed at him when he'd opened his big mouth. Blair honestly hadn't intended to say that out loud. He knew how Nathan felt about him sticking his nose into his cases. Especially here in Cascade, in front of strangers. He'd be hearing more about this, he was sure.

Blair suppressed a sigh. He'd endured Nathan's tirades before. Nothing new there. All he had to do was act suitably chastised, fake a little subservience, and Nathan would be happy. A small price to pay. He could do that.

A loud crash sounded from out in the bullpen, causing Blair to jump. He immediately reached out for his Sentinel, letting his hand rest on the man's shoulder. Nathan had squeezed his eyes shut, as the pain of the unexpected sound reverberated through him.

A quick glance told Blair that Captain Banks had stepped from his office to deal with whatever had caused the noise. The other detective, Ellison, had lowered his head to his hands and was slowly massaging his temples. Blair narrowed his eyes as he watched the familiar response. He mentally shook away the thought. The odds of Ellison being...Uh uh! No way. That was just too much of a stretch.

Lowering his voice to a Sentinel soft whisper, Blair said, "Block it out, Nathan. Concentrate on my voice and nothing else." He continued the soothing words for several minutes, until he felt a lessening of the tension in the Sentinel. On impulse, Blair glanced back at Ellison. The Cascade detective had opened his eyes and was gazing openly at Blair, an unreadable expression on his face. It was almost as though he had...as though he had heard Blair's words to Nathan. Blair's eyes widened.

Banks returned, making apologies for the interruption, and the discussion resumed. Blair sat back in his seat, covertly watching Ellison. The man had been reacting to the noise from outside the office, Blair was certain. His response had been remarkably similar to Nathan's own in the beginning, when his senses had first come online. And the man had seemed to respond when Blair had soothed Nathan, though the words should not have been audible to him. Did Ellison have heightened hearing?

By late afternoon, the detectives had reached an impasse on the case, though Ellison had several leads he felt were worth pursuing. Blair had put his experience to work studying Ellison, and by the time, they were ready to call it a day, he was convinced the Cascade detective had, at the least, heightened hearing. He suspected maybe one more enhanced sense, vision, but had yet to see conclusive proof.

Blair was deep in thought as he and Wester drove to their hotel. They had plans to stay over in Cascade for one more day before returning to Seattle. Hopefully, by then he would have a chance to talk to Ellison.

"What in the hell did you think you were doing?" Wester suddenly exploded into the silence of the car.

Ripped from his thoughts, Blair could only stare dumbly at the detective.

"I distinctly remember warning you to keep your mouth shut while we were in there. All you do is make yourself look stupid when you start with your ignorant ramblings."

Blair knew the lecture by heart. There were only so many ways Nathan could call him stupid, and Blair was sure he had heard them all by now. He turned his head to look out the window, listening with only half an ear, so that he could respond in the proper places. Look contrite, sound subservient. A small price, really.

~~~

"Go away, Sandburg!"

Blair sighed. Why did it have to always be a battle? He reached up and once more gently knocked on the door. "Nathan, let me in. I need to talk to you." I'm trying to help you, you dim-witted imbecile!

The door was suddenly snatched open.

"What part of 'go away' don't you understand?"

Blair ignored the bluster and pushed his way into the room. He took a quick moment to appreciate the size of the hotel room. Why is it Nathan always gets a big, plush room, while I end up in an oversized closet with a lumpy bed?

"Nathan, I--" Blair turned, his words catching in his throat as he caught sight of the whiskey bottle in the man's hand. "You shouldn't be drinking, Nathan. You know what it could do to your senses."

"You come up here to lecture me, boy? Save it. I've had enough of your mouth for one day."

Nathan wasn't a drinker. In the almost two years Blair had known the man, he'd rarely seen him take a drink. Further proof that something wasn't right. It had to be related to his senses.

"No, that's not why I'm here," Blair continued, choosing his words carefully. "I noticed you were a bit on edge today. I thought maybe you were having trouble with your senses. Is everything working all right?"

Nathan's eyes narrowed. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm not on edge. I'm just sick of listening to your whiny voice. I should have left you in Seattle."

Blair drew in a slow breath, determined not to react to Nathan's words. "If you're having trouble relaxing," he eyed the bottle pointedly, "I could walk you through some of your relaxation exercises. You would probably sleep better."

"I told you, I'm not having trouble!" Nathan bellowed. He crossed the room, dropping heavily onto the bed. "Save your bitching for your students, and leave me the hell alone!"

Blair was tempted to leave, let the man suffer the consequences, but he had an obligation to watch out for him, at least as far as his senses were concerned. Nathan was already on edge, possibly the result of a senses problem. The alcohol would only amplify that, and Blair didn't want to have to deal with an even more pissed off Sentinel. He made one last try, carefully choosing his most soothing tone.

"Nathan, I know you didn't want to come here, and I know this case is getting more frustrating by the day, but your...irritation...is a little extreme." Even for you. "I think it's because your sense are out of whack or something. If you'd let me run a couple of simple tests--"

Blair broke off as the Sentinel exploded off of the bed, his face a volcano of emotions, none of them good.

"Listen, you little snot-nosed bastard, when I need your help, I'll damned well ask for it!"

Blair instinctively took a step backward, coming up against the door. Nathan reached around him, opened the door and gave him a hard push through it. Caught off guard, Blair lost his balance and fell hard on his butt. Nathan slammed the door, leaving Blair sitting on the floor.

He sat there a moment, then picked himself up and brushed off his jeans. "That certainly went well."

Looked like he was on his own for awhile. And he had a pretty good idea on how to spend the unexpected time.

~~~

"Go home, Jim," Simon Banks said, slipping his arms into his coat. "This will all still be here in the morning. Trust me."

Jim looked up from his desk with a half smile. "I'm almost finished here, Simon. I'm right behind you."

"See that you are," the captain said, the smile in his eyes belying the gruff voice. "Goodnight."

"Night," Jim called after him through the empty bullpen. Hs attention had already returned to the report before him. He studied it for ten more minutes before he decided he was too tired to "see" it anymore. Reluctantly, he closed the file and stood, stretching the kinks out of his back as he reached for his jacket.

"Detective Ellison?"

Jim turned, surprised to see the Seattle police observer standing on the opposite side of his desk. "Mr. Sandburg, something wrong?"

The young man smiled easily. "Just Blair, please. I was hoping maybe we could talk."

Jim gestured to an empty chair close by. "Have a seat." He waited until the kid was seated before reclaiming his own chair. Leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for Sandburg to say something. The kid stared down at his hands for a moment, visibly gathering his thoughts. Jim arched an eyebrow and waited, his curiosity overriding his normal impatience.

Finally, the kid raised his eyes, pinning Jim with an intensity that caught him by surprise. For the most part, during the course of the day, Sandburg had seemed almost timid, hesitant to speak up or draw attention to himself, despite his obvious insight and intelligence. Of course, Jim had realized instantly that was Wester's doing. Every time the kid had opened his mouth, Wester had either shot him down, or sent him a look that would have frozen fire. Jim had no patience with people like Wester; but, to be honest, he had little respect for anyone that would be so easily pushed around, either.

But now, catching the full force of the young man's gaze, Jim saw a power that warned him he'd misjudged the kid. If anyone was pushing this young man around, it was only because he consciously chose to allow it.

"Detective Ellison," Sandburg began. "I noticed some things today that I wanted to ask you about." He paused and Jim nodded once, encouraging him to continue. Sandburg took a deep breath and verbally launched himself. "You've been having some problems with your hearing, right?"

Jim narrowed his eyes, suspicion beginning to take root. "How do you know that?"

"I'm an observer...by nature and profession. It's what I do. I'm right, aren't I? And that's not all, is it? Your vision has been going a little screwy, too."

Jim stood, towering over the kid. "Who have you been talking to?" He was furious that someone had been discussing him with this stranger.

Blair pushed himself back in the chair, obviously a bit intimidated, but it didn't slow him down. "No one. I told you, I'm an observer. Look, man, stop me if I'm off base here, but I don't think I am. You're hearing things you shouldn't be hearing: voices from across the room, the neighbors' TV, a dog barking on the next block over. But it doesn't stop there, does it? You're seeing things, too. Things that no one should be able to see. Boats that are miles out to sea, license plates from three blocks down, written words from across the room. You've been to doctors, and they've run tests, but no one has been able to find anything wrong, much less help you."

Sandburg finally ran out of breath and had to stop. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

"You didn't stop me."

Jim's brow creased. "What?"

"I told you to stop me if I was wrong. You didn't. So that must mean I'm right. What about your other senses? Smell, touch, taste...are they enhanced as well?"

Jim sat back down. "What are you trying to get at?"

Blair leaned forward, just to the edge of Jim's personal space, and lowered his voice, though there was no one else in the room. "I'm an anthropologist. My area of study is modern day Sentinels. In ancient tribal cultures, every village had a Sentinel. Someone who would watch for approaching enemies, changes in the weather, movement of game. Tribe survival depended on him. These Sentinels were chosen because of a genetic advantage: senses enhanced far beyond those of ordinary humans.

"Ancient Sentinels were relatively common. Modern Sentinels, however, aren't. I have hundreds of documented cases of people with one or two heightened senses. Like perfume testers with heightened smell, or wine tasters with heightened taste. But people with all five senses heightened are...well, they're rare, to say the least. You could be the real thing, Detective Ellison. And I can help you."

Jim studied the kid with narrowed eyes. "What do you want?" There had to be an angle, Jim just couldn't see it. Sure, this all made sense...if you believed in fairy tales. Jim didn't.

Blair leaned back, surprise written on his expressive face. "Want? I don't want anything. I just...I thought I could help."

"So you're here out of the goodness of your heart? Now why don't I buy that?"

Sandburg looked crestfallen. His voice softened, and his eyes darted away for a moment. "I have experience in this field, Detective. I've spent years researching and studying this phenomenon. I know what you're going through, and I thought maybe I could help. That's all."

"Yeah, right." Jim stood again, and grabbed his jacket. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Now, if you don't mind, I was just on my way home. It's been a long day."

Reluctantly, Sandburg stood. "Sorry. Didn't mean to keep you." He reached into a pocket and pulled out a dog-eared card. "Look, if you change your mind, or if things get...well, if you want to talk about it, my address and number are on here." When Jim didn't make a move to take the card, he dropped it on the desk. "Thanks for your time."

Jim watched the kid walk away. He waited till the elevator doors closed behind him before picking up the card and studying it.

Sentinels... Jim chuckled. Gotta give the kid credit for imagination. It was a good story. Right out of Hollywood.

Jim dropped the card in the trash on his way out.

~~~

Blair entered his hotel room, and headed straight for the bed, dropping the key card onto the dresser as he passed. He sat down on the bed and leaned back against the headboard, wearily massaging his temples in an attempt to drive back the frustration and disappointment swelling through him. That had so not gone as he'd planned. At least Ellison hadn't thrown him into a wall like Nathan had when Blair had poured out his Sentinel theory to him for the first time. Ellison had shown a bit more restraint than Nathan, but the man had still not been receptive to Blair's offer of help.

And Blair knew he would need that help. If not now, then soon. Blair had seen first hand the havoc the sudden onset of heightened sense could cause. Nathan had been at the edge of sanity when Blair had stumbled across him. It wasn't pleasant. And Blair feared that for Ellison.

But he couldn't force the man to listen to him, much as he would like to. Ellison struck Blair as a no-nonsense kind of man. He wouldn't have much patience for someone like Blair. Must be a Sentinel trait, Blair mused, knowing how little tolerance Nathan had for him. Still...there had to be a way to get the man to at least listen to him. Maybe he'd get another chance to talk to him tomorrow. Ellison might be more receptive to the idea after sleeping on it tonight.

There was a loud knock at the door, followed almost immediately by Nathan's bellow. "Open the door, Sandburg!"

Blair hurried across the room and pulled the door open. Nathan staggered into the room. Though it was obvious the man had continued to drink after Blair had left, Blair didn't think he was drunk yet. He still seemed very much in control of himself...and very angry, judging from the expression he turned on Blair.

"Where the hell you been?"

Blair pushed the door to quietly as he thought over his answer. He saw no reason to lie to Nathan, so he didn't. "I went back to the station. I wanted to talk to Detective Ellison."

"You have some information on the case you didn't give me?"

"No, nothing like that, Nathan," Blair hurried to say. "I, um...I saw a few things today while we were there that made me wonder...I suspected that Detective Ellison might be a Sentinel. I wanted to ask him some questions about it. I thought maybe I could help him understand what's going on with his senses."

The Sentinel's expression darkened noticeably. "Ellison is a Sentinel?"

"I think so."

Nathan paced away a few steps. Blair waited, knowing there was more to come. After a minute, the Sentinel turned back to face him. "Sentinel or not, you stay away from Ellison. I don't trust him, and I don't want you near him. You understand me?"

"Nathan, if Ellison is a Sentinel, he's going to need--"

Blair broke off with a yelp of surprise as Nathan closed the distance between them and roughly grabbed his arms.

"You're my Guide! Ellison can find his own help, just like I had to. You stay away from him, you hear me?"

Blair risked a look into the man's fury-filled eyes. There was no mistaking the warning there. This was not a subject that could be argued.

"I hear you," Blair responded obediently. "You don't have to worry, Ellison wasn't interested in my offer. It won't be a problem."

Nathan released Blair with a satisfied grunt and moved toward the door. Halfway there, he stopped and turned back. "Gather your crap; we're going back to Seattle."

"Tonight?"

"Are you deaf or just stupid?"

"We -- you have a meeting with Captain Banks and Detective Ellison tomorrow morning," Blair reminded him.

"They'll have to deal with it on their own. We're going home." He turned back for the door.

"Nathan, wait..." Blair was talking to empty air. The Sentinel was gone.

Great! Blair muttered, grabbing his backpack to comply with the order. There went his chance to talk to Ellison again before they left. He was going to have to find a way to get the man to listen to him. If there was even the slightest chance that Ellison was a full Sentinel, then he was going to have to have some help.

Blair shoved the last of his things into the bag and headed for the door. He'd give Ellison a week. That should be plenty of time to process all that Blair had told him. If he hadn't heard from the man by then, Blair would just have make the call himself.

~~~

Jim froze, his raised fist inches from the door. What in the hell was he doing? It was about the thousandth time he had asked himself that question since leaving Cascade. But still it hadn't stopped him. Here he was, about to throw himself on the mercy of this kid. A virtual stranger. But it was obvious that Sandburg knew something about what Jim was going through. And Jim was finally desperate enough to come crawling to him.

Before he could question himself again, he knocked.

A few seconds later he heard, "Who is it?"

"Jim Ellison, from Cascade."

The door swung open immediately, and Sandburg stood in the opening, his expressive face painted with curiosity. "Detective Ellison...is something wrong?"

"No, not really," Jim lied. Yes, something was wrong. His damned senses had gone crazy and he didn't know how to handle it. "I was hoping we could talk?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, sorry. Come on in," Blair invited, stepping aside to let Jim pass.

Jim entered the apartment and immediately surveyed and gauged his surroundings. The room wasn't very big, and the clutter on every surface made it seem even smaller. On closer inspection, Jim realized that most of the clutter was books and papers, with the occasional pile of clothes tossed over furniture that had seen better days. The small dining table was covered with even more papers. The one clear spot held a steaming mug and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich. Scattered candles lent a warm illumination to the cramped space.

"Have a seat," Sandburg said, removing a stack of books from a chair at the table. "You want some tea? A sandwich?"

Jim sat on the offered chair, which rocked beneath him on uneven legs. "You have any beer?"

The kid smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. Not till payday, which isn't till next week."

"I'm fine, thanks," Jim said. Figures Sandburg was busted. He just had the look of someone that lived from paycheck to paycheck. Jim looked at the stack of books Sandburg had moved to the couch, reading the titles. "Textbooks? You a student?"

"Yeah, among other things," he answered.

"Other things?" Jim was intrigued.

"Well, yeah, there's the police work, of course, and I'm also a teaching fellow, and I do some private tutoring on the side, just to, you know...make ends meet."

"Where in the world do you find the time?" Now Jim was amazed.

Sandburg chuckled tiredly. "By giving up the nonessentials: sleep, social activities...life."

"I guess youth has its advantages."

"I'm not as young as I look," Sandburg shot back, sounding a touch irritated.

Jim held up his hands up in a placating gesture. "Sorry, no offense intended."

Sandburg sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I should be used to that by now. Everyone always thinks I'm just a kid. Must be the hair." He lifted his eyes, meeting Jim's boldly. "So, Detective Ellison, what brings you to Seattle?"

"I...um, I was thinking about the things you said last week. I...Damn, this isn't easy."

"You need my help?" Sandburg offered. Jim thought he detected an eagerness to the soft voice.

"Yeah," Jim admitted hesitantly. It wasn't easy to admit that to this kid...to anyone. Jim Ellison was not one to "need" anyone. But he was also not one to let himself get so out of control. If this kid could help him get that control back, then to hell with it, he would admit anything, say anything. "I just can't do this by myself anymore. I don't understand what's happening to me."

"What's happening to you is that your genetically enhanced senses are coming online. It's like I explained to you in Cascade, you were born to be a Sentinel. You have the advantage of hyperactive senses. It's perfectly natural, Detective Ellison. You aren't a freak, and you aren't insane. You're simply different...better actually. Your senses can be controlled."

"Can you teach me to control them?" Jim hoped he didn't sound as desperate as he felt.

Sandburg hesitated. Jim watched the intelligent blue eyes focus inward. The kid was weighing something, trying to make a decision. Was he going to refuse? What would happen if he did? What did that leave Jim, where could he go from here?

"I can help you, but the problem is, you're in Cascade and I'm in Seattle."

"Can you come to Cascade for a while? Take some time off from the university maybe. I would be glad to pay you for your time..."

"No, that's not the problem," Sandburg hurried to say. "This term will be over in a few more days, then I have a few weeks before the start of the new semester." He paused, dropping his gaze and rubbing a hand over his forehead. "It's...well, it's just Nathan. I have obligations to him--"

"He's a Sentinel, too," Jim said.

Sandburg looked back up, his eyes wide. "You know about him?"

"I figured it out that first day at the station, only I didn't realize exactly what I had figured out until now."

"I've been working with him for almost two years now. He has control most of the time, but he still has a problem with zone outs."

"Zone outs?" The hair on the back of Jim's neck stood up in warning.

"Um, yeah, I was going to get to that. Sometimes, if you concentrate on one sense to the exclusion of the other four, you can go into what I call a zone out. It's like a trance. You lose track of what's going on around you, sometimes even to the extent of forgetting to breathe. It's kind of like your mind passes out while your body stays awake."

"Oh, my God..." Jim whispered. The kid hadn't said anything about this. If this happened on the job...it could be disastrous.

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Sandburg said quickly. "It can be controlled, but that's one of the main reasons a Sentinel needs a partner, someone who knows what to look for and can bring him back from a zone out."

Jim stood and paced away a few steps. This was too much. He couldn't absorb this latest piece of information. He was still trying to process the whole Sentinel concept. How could he function if he was liable to go into a trance any time he used these damned senses?

"What if I don't want them? The senses, I mean. What if I refuse them?"

"I don't think it works like that. You can no more refuse your senses than you can refuse your skin color. They're a part of who you are. But they don't have to be a curse. I know it must seem that way to you now, but once you learn to control them, you'll see what an advantage they can be."

"How can I do that if you won't help me?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't help you," Sandburg said. "I just have to figure out how I'm gonna manage it." He stared at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. "I can work something out, I'm sure. I can take the bus; it's not that far to Cascade. Maybe I can tell Nathan I have to take a class at Rainier..."

The kid looked up suddenly, as though realizing that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. "I mean, um..." A panicked look crossed his face.

"You would have to lie to Wester?" Jim was confused by both the statement and the kid's reaction to having let it slip out.

"Nathan is a bit...territorial. I mean, he's a great guy, but he might not understand my working with you." His eyes darted nervously away. "I'm overreacting, I'm sure."

Jim registered Sandburg's racing pulse and rapid respiration, only vaguely amazed anymore that he was able to do so. The kid was scared, but of what? Wester finding out about him helping Jim? That didn't make sense. He decided not to push the issue but to be grateful that Sandburg was willing to help him at all. He would take whatever he could get.

He nodded. "Okay, whatever you feel is best. I'll work my schedule around you. Just let me know when you can come up to Cascade, and I'll arrange some time off."

"Actually, it would be better if you didn't. You need to learn to use your senses in relation to your job, so it would be best if I worked with you in that environment. Is that going to be all right? Can you square it with Captain Banks?"

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Jim said honestly. "I'll explain the situation to him, and I'm sure he'll back us in whatever it takes to resolve this."

"He knows about you? About the senses, I mean." There was no missing the surprise in his voice.

Jim nodded. "It's been kind of hard to hide. Besides, Simon and I go way back. I trust him. He's as anxious to get this taken care of as I am."

Sandburg nodded. "Okay, then, I'll let you know just as soon as I can work out the details. It'll be at least a few more days before I can get away. I'll have to make arrangements at the university, and I'll have to tell Nathan something. I'll call you. And, Detective Ellison, it might be a good idea not to mention your abilities to anyone else. I don't know if you've thought this through, but I've had two years to worry about the possibilities with Nathan. Not only is there the criminal element to think about, with every two-bit hood out to make a reputation looking to take down the super cop, but there are plenty of scientists that would give their first born for a chance to study someone like you."

Jim nodded. It was nothing he and Simon hadn't discussed before. Jim had never been one to trust anyone, so he had no trouble imagining the scenarios the kid had laid out.

"Okay, great," Sandburg said, rubbing his hands together. The sudden light in his expressive eyes slightly worried Jim. "Now, if you have a little time before you have to leave, I can teach you a few simple techniques to help you out until I can get to Cascade."

~~~

Blair jerked his head up and around as the front door slammed open, his heart leaping into his throat. He was only marginally relieved to see Nathan standing there. The look on the detective's face was enough to set every internal alarm Blair had screaming.

"Where is he?" the huge man demanded, slamming the door shut and stalking toward Blair.

Blair backed up a couple of steps, trying to keep some distance between him and this madman. "Who?"

"Don't give me that shit! You know exactly who I'm talking about." Nathan stopped just inches away from Blair, his furious face glaring down on the now visibly shaken younger man.

"Honest to God, Nathan, I have no idea--"

Blair broke off with a small yelp of surprise and pain as the bigger man's hand shot out, closing around his neck.

"You lie to me, boy, and I'll kill you where you stand. That Sentinel from Cascade. The one you've been dancing around with behind my back. I know he was here, so save your pathetic lies for someone stupid enough to believe you."

Blair's hands wrapped around Nathan's fingers as he tried in vain to pry them from their iron grip on his throat. His air supply was completely cut off as the large hand clamped down tighter. Black spots danced at the edges of Blair's vision. Just as he felt himself beginning to pass out, the pressure disappeared, and Nathan backed away a step.

Blair slumped to his knees, fighting to draw in breaths against the pain that still radiated from his throat.

"Are you ready to tell me the truth?"

Blair looked up, still rubbing his neck. "He was here, Nathan, but only to ask me some questions about the case. He wanted--"

Wester's beefy hand caught Blair across the face in a backhanded slap. The force of the blow sent Blair sprawling to the floor. "Don't lie to me, you little bastard!"

Stupid, Blair, stupid! He knew Wester was capable of detecting a lie. Why did he try that? Blair wiped a hand across his mouth, smearing the blood that trailed from a split lip.

Wester took a step toward him, and Blair hurriedly scrambled to his feet, backing away. He held up a hand, knowing it would be no protection if the man decided to come at him again.

"Ellison was here," Blair admitted. "He wanted to talk to me about his senses. He's confused. He doesn't know what's going on with him, and he doesn't know what to do. He wants me to help him control the senses."

"And you told him where he could shove that crap, right?"

Blair hesitated, not wanting to risk another lie, but not knowing what Wester's reaction would be if he told the truth.

"Damn it, Sandburg, answer me! What did you tell that bastard?"

"I told him I could help him. I can, Nathan. Just like I helped you. Don't you remember what it was like for you when your senses first came online? Don't you remember how confused and frightened you were? Ellison is in the same position you were in then. Surely you can understand--"

Wester's face exploded in fury, and Blair knew he had made the wrong decision. His back was against the wall; there was nowhere to escape the maddened creature that was approaching him. Blair suddenly feared for his life.

"You son of a bitch! You back stabbing little bastard! You belong to me! You're my Guide. Ellison can find his own damned Guide, or he can rot in hell for all I care. I'll be damned if I'll stand by and let you work with that arrogant bastard."

Wester grabbed Blair's shoulders and shook him hard. Blair's head contacted painfully with the wall with each punctuated word. He squeezed his eyes shut against the nausea that accompanied the action.

"Do you hear me?"

Blair tried to answer, fearing the reprisal if he didn't, but the bile rising in his still sore throat prevented any sound from escaping him.

"Damn it, you stupid little punk, answer me."

Before Blair could make another try, a fist slammed into his side, taking his breath away in one quick burst of exhaled air. Blair gasped around the pain, trying to force his mind to come up with a way out of this without getting killed. Wester loomed in his face, shouting something, but it was just so much garbled sound. Another fist of pain slammed into him, followed by another, until the only thing left in Blair's thoughts was a prayer for it to end. And finally, thankfully, it did, as darkness seized him.

~~~

Blair fought weakly against the returning awareness. He was coherent enough to know what was waiting for him, to remember the agony that was his body. But return, it did. He heard himself moan, and struggled to contain it, afraid that Wester would still be there and take offense. Slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes, wincing at the fading sunlight filtering through the curtains at the window.

After a long minute, he raised his head from the floor, again biting back a moan at the pain the movement instigated. He glanced around the room, relieved to find he was alone.

"Thank you, God," he whispered. He let his head fall back to the floor. What in the hell happened? Wester had gone crazy. He had been totally out of control. Unlike anything Blair had ever seen or even suspected the man was capable of. Okay, granted, Nathan had always been a bit volatile, but he had never gotten violent before. At least not with me, Blair amended, after a moment's thought. Blair had once seen Wester lose it with a suspect, beating the hell out of the man, and if Blair were to be completely honest, the incident had left him more than a bit afraid of the detective. But other than a few shoves, Wester had never gotten physical with Blair. Lots of emotional jabs, more than a few nasty barbs, but nothing like this.

Blair opened his eyes again, and gingerly rolled to his side, wondering if he could manage to get to his feet. The effort seemed too monumental to attempt at the moment, so he laid where he was. Without moving, he tried to assess the worst of the pain.

His head was pounding to beat the band. It was difficult to pin down where that pain originated, but Blair assumed it was from Wester pounding it against the wall. The rest of the pain all seemed to be centered about his abdomen. At least nothing felt broken. Maybe a cracked rib or two, but nothing he couldn't deal with.

Blair took a deep breath and prepared to rise. He made it as far as his knees, then had to stop and rest for a few minutes. An eternity later, he was on his feet, swaying until he found a stance that didn't exacerbate the pain.

"Okay," he said into the empty room, "now what?"

Realization set in slowly through his pain clouded thoughts. He couldn't stay here. He had to leave before Nathan came back. The man might be satisfied with merely beating the hell out of Blair. He might figure Blair had gotten the point. But then again, he might not. He might come back and finish what he had started.

Suddenly terrified, Blair grabbed his backpack and started shoving his most important notes into it with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his aching torso. When it was full, he fished a duffel bag from under the bed and stuffed the remaining notebooks in it. He finished filling the bag with some of his clothes.

His eyes moved around the small space that he had called home for the past couple of years. It wasn't much, but it was his. He wasn't sure when, or even if, he would be able to come back here, but it didn't matter. He had his notes, and nothing else here mattered to him. It could all be replaced.

With one last glance around, he headed for the door, his mind already set on a destination.

~~~

Jim set his beer down on the coffee table and turned on the couch to face his captain. "I really feel like he can help me, Simon. I don't know why --God knows I know nothing about the kid -- but I feel like I can trust him."

"He didn't say when he would be coming up?"

Jim shook his head. "He said he needed a little time to work out the details. It'll be at least a few more days, though. He teaches at one of the colleges there, and he has to wait until the term ends." He lifted his eyes to meet Simon's. "There won't be a problem with him helping me at the station, will there?"

"Jim, I'm as anxious as you are to see this...situation...resolved. I'll start the paperwork tomorrow to get Sandburg ride-a-long status for a few weeks. You do what you have to. I'll take care of the technical end."

"Thanks, Simon." Jim hoped the captain understood the sincerity of his simple words.

The phone rang, and Jim reached for it. "Ellison."

"Detective, hey, it's Blair Sandburg."

"Sandburg?" Jim was surprised to hear from the kid so soon. When Jim had left Seattle this morning, Blair had promised to call in a couple of days, when he had definite plans.

"Yeah. Hey, I managed to work things out a little quicker than I thought. I hope that won't be a problem?"

"You mean you're coming to Cascade now?"

"Actually, I'm already here."

"I thought you had classes--"

"I, uh, found someone to take over for me. I figured you were anxious to get things started...."

"Yeah...yeah, sure. That's great, kid. Why don't we meet in the morning? Can you come to the station?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Didn't realize it was so late, man. I hope I'm not disturbing you. Look, I'll come by the station first thing tomorrow. See you then."

Before Jim could respond, the connection was broken.

"Damn, I didn't even get a chance to ask where he was staying."

"I take it that was Sandburg?"

Jim frowned. Something about the kid's voice was...off. Or maybe it wasn't the voice so much as the tone behind the words.

"Jim?"

The detective glanced up. "Huh? Oh...yeah, that was Sandburg. He's here in Cascade. Said he found someone to take the remainder of his classes so we could get started."

"Nice of him," Simon commented, still watching Jim closely. "What's the problem?"

"I'm not sure," Jim admitted sheepishly. "He sounded...odd. Strained."

"Probably just tired," Simon pointed out. "It's a pretty good drive up here from Seattle."

"Yeah, you're probably right." But the bad feeling in Jim's gut didn't go away.

~~~

Blair hung up the phone and leaned his head against the glass on the side of the booth.

"Great," he muttered. Okay, so...no invitation to stay at Ellison's. Not really that surprising --- he was a virtual stranger, after all. What options did that leave him?

Blair grabbed his backpack and duffel and stepped out of the phone booth into the chilly night air. He had no idea where he was. Somewhere near the waterfront, judging by the smells. He hadn't had the money for the bus; so he had ended up hitching his way here. Not his favorite way to travel, but at least it would make it that much more difficult for Nathan to trace him.

Blair shook the thought away. There was no reason for Nathan to even care that Blair was gone, much less take the time to track him down. The man had certainly told Blair often enough how useless he was. Hell, the detective was probably overjoyed to be rid of the excess baggage.

He needed a plan. Blair stuck his hand into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled bills and counting them. Eleven bucks...maybe another dollar or two in change. Not enough for much more than a meal. Certainly not enough for a room, even in this part of town. He replaced the money, deciding he would be better off saving it for an emergency.

Blair searched the immediate area. He was no stranger to this situation. He'd slept on the streets once or twice in his life. But he also knew how dangerous it could be in a strange area with no one to watch out for you while you slept.

"A park would be nice," he mumbled under his breath. He would really prefer to avoid alleys; they were too secluded, and besides, they were usually already staked out. "A shelter would be better."

He mentally tossed a coin and headed up the street. He was bound to find something eventually.

~~~

Jim lifted his head from the reports on his desk. He knew without looking the kid had just entered the bullpen, and that made him just a little nervous. Sure enough, Sandburg was making his way slowly across the room toward Jim's desk. Probably just picked up a smell or sound, Jim reassured himself.

"'Morning," he greeted.

Sandburg smiled broadly. "Good morning, Detective."

Jim pushed back his chair and stood. It was then he noticed the dark bruises that stood in sharp contrast to the pale skin of the kid's throat. Jim's frown deepened as his eyes drifted up to Sandburg's face. There was a cut on Sandburg's bottom lip that was a bit swollen; the area below it was beginning to turn an amazing shade of purple.

Sandburg, seeing the direction of Jim's gaze, lifted a hand to rub absently at the offending marks.

"What happened?" Jim asked, trying hard not to make it a demand.

"Oh," Sandburg grinned sheepishly, "I was mugged."

"Mugged?" Simon had walked up in time to catch the explanation. As Blair turned, the captain caught sight of the marks. He let out a low whistle. "Did you report it?"

"Oh, yeah, of course," Sandburg assured the cop. "It happened yesterday, in Seattle. I reported it, gave a statement."

"Are you all right?" Jim asked. He only had to remember the neighborhood the kid lived in to believe the claim.

"Sure," Sandburg grinned. "Just a few bruises."

Simon shook his head and held out a stack of papers to Sandburg. "Jim has explained that you'll be riding along with him for a few weeks. If you'll finish filling these out, I'll rush them through to get you your observer credentials."

The kid nodded, taking the papers. "I'm familiar with the process." He looked back up, meeting the captain's gaze. "I really appreciate you letting me work with Jim on the job like this. It'll help us to move faster."

"Son, if you can help Jim control these--" he broke off and looked around, assuring their privacy, "these senses, than we're the ones who will owe you."

"He's right, Chief," Jim added. "I can't tell you how grateful I am that you've come up here like this to try and help me."

"Chief?" Blair raised an eyebrow at the title.

Jim grinned. "It's just a word I use. Don't let it go to your head. It doesn't mean you're in charge or anything."

Blair's smile faded quickly. "Sorry."

Jim mentally kicked himself, remembering how Wester had verbally attacked the kid at every opportunity. He'd have to remember to take it easy till Sandburg realized not all cops were like the Seattle Sentinel. "It was a joke."

"Oh," the kid's smile returned as quickly as it had left. "Then I guess I'll have to help you with that sense of humor, too."

~~~

"Well?"

Jim settled himself into the chair before the captain's desk. He looked up at Simon, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"Don't look at me like that," the big captain growled. "You know exactly what I'm asking. How was your first day with the kid?"

"Actually, it was great. I had no idea he was so..."

"Talkative?" Simon provided.

Jim chuckled. "Yeah, he is that. I have a feeling that he's not used to having someone actually listen to him."

"Wester didn't seem like the type to put up with that."

"The man bordered on verbal abuse, Simon. He shot the kid down every time he opened his mouth." Jim stopped and took a deep breath. He didn't really want to talk about Wester right now. It was none of his business, anyhow. Sandburg, despite Jim's proclivity to refer to him as a kid, was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. If he chose to stick with Wester in the face of the abuse, well then, that was his choice.

"Other than the talking, how did it go?"

"Sandburg helped me more in one day than all of the doctors I've seen in the past six months, Simon. This kid really knows what he's doing. He talked me through about a hundred different incidents. Showed me how to use mental dials to control one sense so I can concentrate on another. For the first time in months, Simon, I have hope of controlling this thing. I really feel like I can do it, with the kid's help."

"That's great, Jim." Simon's smile was genuine. He had seen the chaos and confusion Jim had lived with while trying to deal with this thing with his senses. He had been there through the worst of it. "Where is the kid?"

"I sent him home. It was obvious he was exhausted."

"Where's he staying?"

Jim rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture he realized signaled frustration, but he couldn't help himself. He was frustrated. "I have no idea. He very deftly avoided a direct answer. Best I could determine, it's someplace down on the waterfront."

"Not exactly a prime part of town."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Jim wasn't too pleased with the idea, but it wasn't his call.

"Well, he's grown. Let's hope he knows what he's doing."

~~~

Blair pulled the thin pillow over his head in a vain attempt to muffle the loud snoring coming from the next cot. Finally, he gave up. Knowing he would get no sleep with that racket less than three feet from his head, he swung his legs over the side of the cot and fumbled in the limited light for his shoes. It was only a couple of hours till daybreak anyhow. He would find somewhere else to kill the time.

He glanced across the small space to the man making the offensive noise. For a brief moment, he entertained the thought of shoving a sock in the man's mouth. Everyone in the room would probably thank him. But the temptation passed quickly. The man had to be at least sixty years old, though it was difficult to be sure. Living on the streets had a way of aging a person prematurely. This shelter was probably the only place the old man felt safe enough to sleep this soundly. Blair was ashamed of himself for begrudging him that, however briefly.

Blair finished tying his sneakers, grabbed his packs and made his way quietly to the front door. Once out on the street, he stopped to button his jacket against the cold wind off the bay, then headed for the bus station to stash his stuff in a locker.

Twenty minutes later, he was seated in an all-night diner with a cup of coffee and the newspaper, scanning the help wanted ads. He was going to have to find some temporary work to hold him for a couple of weeks. After that...well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. He wouldn't mind staying here. Cascade wasn't too bad, and Rainier had a really good anthropology department. Blair had worked with some of the professors on various projects over the last few years. It would be kind of nice to think about transferring there full time.

But Blair shook away the thought as soon as it developed. He knew he couldn't stay here. He had a home, such as it was, in Seattle. He had his studies, his job, a few friends...and most importantly, he had a responsibility to Nathan Wester. No matter what had happened, he couldn't abandon Nathan.

Now that he'd had time to think about it, Blair was beginning to form a few tentative theories about the attack. It was obvious that Nathan hadn't been himself. In fact, once Blair had gotten some distance from the incident and given it some thought, he realized that Nathan had begun to act strange from the time they had first arrived in Cascade the week before. Oh, Nathan had always been somewhat abusive verbally, but he had never been physically abusive...until now.

Vague suspicions were beginning to take shape in Blair's thoughts, and he was none too pleased with the conclusions he was reaching. He had known almost from the start that Nathan was territorial with his possessions. He had passed it off as a Sentinel thing. He had just never thought of himself as one of those possessions before. But it made sense. Nathan had begun his aggressive behavior when he came to Cascade and met Ellison. Somehow, on some level, Nathan had sensed from the start that Ellison was a Sentinel, and therefore a threat to "his" Guide. He had become more abusive with Blair in an effort to exert more control over what he saw as his.

The anthropologist in Blair was fascinated. The rest of him was horrified. He didn't like being thought of as a possession. He didn't like to think of himself as belonging to anyone, much less someone as abusive and domineering as Nathan Wester. But he had to admit he felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the man. So, like it or not, he knew he would end up going back to Seattle. Hopefully, by then, Nathan would be over whatever territorial imperative had driven him to attack Blair.

Blair pushed the dark thoughts from his mind. He wouldn't worry about that until he had to. Right now he had other, more pressing concerns. He needed a room somewhere, and he definitely had to eat. That meant finding some work. But it had to be something at night, so that it wouldn't interfere with his ride-a-long with Ellison.

Luckily, he had been working at one job or another since he was fourteen. He had experience in a number of fields. He mentally listed his skills, comparing them to the listed ads. By the time the sun was up, he had a half-dozen circled possibilities and a tentative plan.

~~~

Jim studied his temporary partner covertly from across the bullpen. Blair sat on the edge of Jim's desk, hands flying wildly as he regaled a small group of detectives with yet another of his spirited tales. The outgoing, enthusiastic, opinionated young man that had the detectives spellbound with his antics was a far cry from the reserved, solemn man that had come to Cascade just two weeks ago. Each day that passed saw Blair open himself up a bit more. Jim had a feeling this was the true Blair Sandburg, as life had intended him to be had a certain Seattle detective not dampened that lively spirit. The transformation was remarkable, and Jim couldn't help feeling good about it.

But at the same time, Jim couldn't help noticing the constant lines of fatigue around Blair's eyes. He was spending all day, every day here at the station with Jim, but he disappeared every afternoon around five. Several times Jim had extended a dinner invitation to the young man, figuring it was the least he owed him for all the work he was doing. Every time, Blair had declined, offering vague excuses on his way out the door.

"Kid knows how to captivate an audience," Simon commented, walking up behind Jim. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the group for a minute. "Don't know how he does that. I would never have thought these guys would take to someone like him."

Jim chuckled to himself. It was nothing he hadn't already thought. "He does have a way with people."

"How's it going with him, Jim?" Simon asked, suddenly turning serious. "With the senses, I mean."

"You mean you can't tell?"

"I can tell you seem more in control."

"The kid really knows his business. I guess it's because he's already worked through most of this with Wester, but he seems to have some trick or technique for everything I come up against. I honestly think with his help I can get a handle on this thing."

"That's great, Jim." The frown on the dark man's face belied the words.

"What?" Jim hadn't missed the expression.

Simon glanced back across the room to where the kid was just winding down his story, his hands flying around him in time to his words. "What happens when he leaves? Will you still be able to do this without him here with you?"

It was a question Jim had asked himself repeatedly over the past two weeks. With Sandburg there to talk him through each and every exercise of his senses, Jim could manage. He could fool himself that he was in control. But the truth of the matter was, whatever control he had was limited. He knew he still had much to learn. Hell, according to Sandburg, they were barely scratching the surface of his Sentinel abilities.

"I don't know, Simon," he admitted. "He says I'll do just fine, that I'm picking this stuff up pretty fast...for a caveman," he added with a smile. Then he sobered. "But...I just don't know..."

"Maybe he can help you find someone else, someone around here that can work with you on this. There has to be someone local that knows about this stuff."

"No!" Jim's vehemence surprised them both. Why did the thought of working with someone else on this Sentinel thing send a shock of fear through his heart? It was the same feeling he got whenever Sandburg mentioned Wester. Something inside of him seemed to tense up at the very thought of the Seattle Sentinel.

"It was just a thought," Simon said, narrowing his eyes at Jim.

"Sorry, Simon." Jim hesitated, not knowing how he could explain his feelings without sounding crazy. Simon was already giving him 'that' look. "It's just..." Jim broke off as his hearing registered a sudden increase in Sandburg's pulse rate. He wasn't even aware he had been tuned to it. He started across the room, driven by an imperative he didn't understand. He tuned into the conversation as he went.

Sandburg was laughing, though it sounded much too forced to Jim. "Thanks for the sentiment, guys, but I already have a job in Seattle, remember? Besides, I have no desire to be a cop."

"Then why are you working with Detective Wester?"

Blair's heart did a double beat for a second. Jim stopped a few feet away and watched the quick play of emotions across the youthful face. Within seconds, Blair had carefully schooled his expression, revealing nothing of the turmoil Jim still could sense at the question.

"I'm working on my dissertation," Blair reminded the men. It was the same story they had given to explain his ride-a-long with Jim. The "closed society" spiel.

"A school paper is worth putting up with that jerk?"

Jim looked in surprise at Brown. He thought he had been the only one to form that opinion of the detective from Seattle.

"It's more than a 'school paper'," Blair said, a touch of offense in his voice. "It's my doctorate."

"Sorry, kid," Brown quickly apologized. "Didn't mean it like that--"

Jim stepped forward, not liking the way Blair's heart was racing. "If you girls are through socializing, I would like my desk back."

The other detectives headed back to their own work. Blair hopped down from where he sat on Jim's desk.

"Sorry, Jim," he murmured softly.

Puzzled, Jim looked up. "For what?"

Blair shrugged, not meeting Jim's gaze. "I get carried away sometimes." He did look up then, his eyes finding Jim's as he smiled sheepishly. "I like to talk. It's an inborn flaw. Get me started on one of those stupid stories, and I just don't know when to quit."

Jim sighed, a slow anger building in his gut. He realized it must show in his expression when Blair dropped his eyes again, evidently misunderstanding its direction. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Sandburg. And your stories aren't stupid."

"Yeah?" Blair lifted his eyes, a small bit of that enthusiastic light returning to their blue depths.

Jim found himself smiling in return. "Yeah. These clowns around here don't get out much, in case you haven't noticed. They need all the education they can get."

Blair's grin widened.

"He's right, Sandburg," Simon said joining the conversation. "I think you've been a good influence on more than just Jim. In fact, we may just decide to keep you."

Blair's smile faded, and Jim registered the sudden jump in his pulse rate. Jim frowned, but before he could question him, Simon was talking again.

"Look, Jim, I know this is short notice, but I need you for a stakeout tonight. There's no one else I can spare right now."

"What's up?"

"It's that car theft ring that Rafe and Brown are working on. They've gotten word that the buyers might show up tonight."

"Sure, no problem," Jim replied.

"Wait," Blair interrupted. "I can't go tonight, Jim."

"That's all right, Chief. I've done stakeouts alone before. I can handle it."

"That was before your senses came online, Jim. What if you zone, man, or have a spike or something? I need to go with you."

"I have to learn to deal with this on my own sooner or later, right? Now's as good a time as any."

"You are not ready, man," Blair insisted. "We've still got so much work to do before you can do this solo." He turned to Simon. "What time is the stakeout?"

"I've got Carter and Whitt down for the first watch. I figured you and Jim could take from midnight to four."

"Oh, man..." Blair ran a hand nervously through his hair, drawing a strange look from Simon. He chewed his lip for a minute, and Jim could almost hear the gears in his brain turning as he contemplated the problem. Finally, he looked up. "Could you maybe switch Carter and Whitt to the midnight shift? Jim and I could take the first watch. Would that be all right? I can do that, as long as we're through before midnight."

Simon's eyes narrowed. Jim caught the expression and frowned. He had a feeling he knew what was going through the captain's mind, only because the same thought had fleetingly run through his own. Sandburg's nervous behavior wasn't helping any.

After a minute, Simon nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

Blair visible relaxed. "Thanks, Captain. I'm sorry for the trouble."

Banks spared the kid one more look, then headed for his office.

"He's not mad, is he?" Blair asked, glancing nervously at Jim. "Did I overstep my bounds? I know I shouldn't have said anything, but I just can't go at midnight, and there's no way I'm going to let you go out there by yourself until you have a better handle on your senses. If you zoned or--"

"Whoa, Chief. Stop and take a breath, why don't you?" Jim smiled to let the kid know he was teasing. He never knew when Blair would take something he said to heart. "Simon isn't mad. He was a little curious, I think. You were pretty insistent, and I don't think he expected that from you."

"Sorry, " Blair said. "I just got a little worried when you said you would go alone, that's all."

"No harm done, Chief," Jim said, taking a seat and reaching for a stack of reports in his in basket. "It's all worked out now."

~~~

Jim knocked on Simon's office door, waiting for a reply before he entered.

"What's up, Jim?" Simon said, laying his pen down with a sigh that could only be interpreted as relief.

Jim took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. "You have a few minutes, Simon?"

Simon eyed the reports he had been working on. "That is definitely not a problem. I'm ready for a break. Where's your shadow?"

"I sent him for lunch." Jim rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, massaging the sore muscles there. "He's what I want to talk about."

Simon nodded. "I figured as much. What was that little show he pulled out there? What is God's name does he have going at midnight?"

"I don't know," Jim admitted. "But his pulse was going through the roof. He was genuinely upset about the possibility of missing it, whatever it is."

Simon sat silently for a few minutes. "You think it was more than the idea of losing a night's sleep." It wasn't a question. "Jim..." Simon paused, glanced out into the bullpen, then brought his gaze back to Jim. "Do you think the kid is mixed up in something? Something illegal?"

Jim wasn't surprised by the question. It was the conclusion he expected Simon to draw from Sandburg's behavior over the last few days. It was a thought Jim had entertained himself a time or two. His instincts said he could trust Blair, and he had. He had trusted the kid time and again on the senses work. He took tests that he saw no point in simply because Blair said they were necessary. He followed every instruction the kid gave him, even the ones that made him feel foolish, because Blair promised they would help him in the long run. He was trusting Blair with his sanity and his career, because if he didn't get his senses under control, Jim had no doubt he would no longer be able to function as a cop...or a human being.

But what did he really know about Sandburg? He had only known him a few weeks, and in that time, Blair had been reluctant to talk about himself, despite Jim's attempts to draw him out.

"I don't know, Simon. I don't really think so, but..."

"But you can't be sure," Simon finished for him.

Jim nodded reluctantly.

"Jim, I know the kid's been a tremendous help to you, and I have to admit, he's beginning to grow on me, too, but if he's involved in something illegal, we have to know."

"I know, sir. I'll get to the bottom of it."

~~~

"Right there, on the corner."

Jim pulled his truck to the curb before the old, brick hotel. It was a bit run down and not in the best of neighborhoods, but it didn't look any worse than where the kid was living in Seattle.

Blair reached for the door handle. "Thanks for the ride, Jim. I'll see you in the morning."

Jim quickly took in the exhausted features of his temporary partner. Several times during the course of the long, boring stakeout, Blair had almost dropped off, his head nodding to his chest before he caught himself. All this, despite the large thermos of black coffee he had single-handedly emptied.

"Why don't you take tomorrow off, Chief," Jim suggested. "You look like you could use it."

Blair let out a weary sigh and actually seemed to be considering it for a moment. "I'm only going to be here for another ten days, Jim. We have so much left to cover, you wouldn't believe it. We can't afford to waste any time."

How could Jim argue with that? He knew it was true, knew that Blair would be leaving Cascade in a little more than a week. The thought worried him on levels that he didn't even want to explore. He found himself nodding.

"I'll see you in the morning, Jim."

Jim waited until Blair disappeared into the building, then pulled the truck back into the street. He drove a couple of blocks down, made a u-turn and parked. Jim had a feeling sleep was not what the young man had in mind. Why else would Blair have been so insistent that he had to be home by midnight? Whatever was going on, Jim intended to find out tonight.

The more he thought about it, the less inclined Jim was to believe Sandburg was involved in anything illegal. It didn't make sense. He just didn't seem the type, and Jim was usually a pretty good judge of character. Of course, Jim had been wrong before. He prayed that this wasn't going to be one of those times. He liked Sandburg. The kid had gone to a lot of trouble to come up here and help Jim out. He was willing to work all day, everyday with Jim, following him around on his cases, running experiments and tests one right after another, and he would take nothing in return for his help. To Jim, that just didn't sound like someone that would be into anything illegal.

But, like he'd said, he'd been wrong before.

It wasn't long before Sandburg reemerged from the hotel. Jim sat up straighter and focused his vision a bit tighter, mentally following the kid's instructions to bring everything into focus. Blair had changed clothes. He was wearing an old, faded pair of jeans and a dark colored tee shirt, covered by a flannel shirt that had seen better days. He stood in front of the building for a moment, looking up at the stars. Jim was struck by the sheer exhaustion on the young face. Finally, Blair heaved a heavy sigh and turned to head down the street away from where Jim was parked.

Jim watched for a block or so, then cranked the truck and, without headlights, slowly followed the shadowed figure. After five or six blocks, Sandburg stopped at a bus stop, lowering himself wearily to the bench. A fair distance away, Jim pulled over and parked, but left the truck running.

Ten minutes later, a late night bus made its way down the street and stopped in front of the bench where Blair sat. When it pulled away, the bench was empty. Jim waited a moment more, then followed the bus.

The vehicle made a half dozen stops before Jim finally saw Blair get off. They were close to the warehouse district, not a place many people would be headed this time of the night. Jim's discomfort increased. He visually followed Blair down the darkened street and into one of the only buildings lit and active.

Confused and more than a bit nervous of what he would find, Jim concentrated on audibly following the young man's progress from there. It took a minute, but he managed to narrow down the input until he identified Blair's heartbeat. It still somewhat amazed him that he could do that. The rhythm of Sandburg's heart was a beacon that just called to Jim's senses. One day, he would have to give that fact some thought, find a way to rationalize it. But he wasn't ready to go there just yet.

Pulling back a bit on his focus, Jim became aware of voices around Sandburg. He sorted through them, finding the one that most concerned him at the moment.

""Yeah, I know," Sandburg was saying. "I'm sorry. I missed my bus and had to wait for another one."

"Your transportation problems aren't my concern, Sandburg," a deep, gruff voice replied. "This is the third time in two weeks you've clocked in late." The voice softened a bit and continued. "You're a good worker, kid, but I can't let this slide. There are rules I have to follow. Consider this your last warning."

Jim pulled back to himself, stunned by what he had just learned. Sandburg was working nights. Why? And why hadn't he said anything?

Jim cranked the truck and reluctantly turned toward home. His mind continued circling the information he had just gathered. A part of him was deeply relieved. Sandburg wasn't involved in anything illegal. In spite of his denials, he had to admit there had been some doubt.

And now I find out the kid is working a night shift...

He should have known. Or at least suspected. Now he could clearly remember the day he had visited Sandburg in Seattle. The kid had been dead broke then, Jim recalled, and he had come to Cascade that same day. What had he done for money? Where had he stayed those first few days? Jim hadn't given it much thought at the time, but now, after the fact, he found himself worrying about it. He could have let Blair stay with him...if he had known it was a problem. He just hadn't considered it.

Jim pulled up in front of the loft and cut the engine.

Now that he knew, now that he was considering it...what was he going to do about it?

~~~

Surprise filtered quickly across Simon's face. "You what?"

"I followed the kid last night after I dropped him off."

"And...?" Simon prompted, full of anticipation.

Simon's eyebrows climbed his forehead when Jim's response wasn't immediate. Judging from the trouble Jim appeared to be having choosing his words, this wasn't going to be good news. Damn. Simon had been hoping they were wrong. He hated to admit it, but he kind of liked Sandburg. Yeah, he talked a lot, and he definitely had way too much energy for Simon's comfort, but he had potential. He was intelligent, and he brought an insight to their cases that was as unique as it was refreshing. Simon didn't want to believe that that same intelligent, insightful kid was involved in something illegal. But he had a feeling that was exactly what Jim was about to tell him.

"What did you find, Jim?" Simon prodded again.

"Damn it, Simon!" Jim cursed. "He's working."

"What?" Simon was caught off guard by the revelation. Not at all what he had been expecting. "Working?"

"I followed him to the warehouse district down by the docks, and I have to admit, my cop radar was in full force. I fully expected to end up arresting him before the night was over. But he's working graveyard shift at one of the warehouses there. It's strictly above board; I checked it out."

"I don't understand, Jim," Simon confessed, genuinely confused.

"I guess he needed money to live on while he was here. I never stopped to consider it, though I should have. The kid is a teaching assistant in Seattle. I doubt he makes very much, and I know he doesn't get paid for working with Wester. I never really thought about what he was living on while he was here."

"So, he's working here all day, there all night...when does he sleep?"

Jim shrugged. "Between the two, I guess."

"Jim--" Simon began, but broke off when Jim suddenly tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring slightly. "What is it?"

There was no answer for a moment. Simon shifted uneasily in his chair. He hadn't seen Jim in full Sentinel mode but a couple of times, but he had no doubt that's what this was. What could have possibly set him off here in the station?

"Sandburg's here," Jim stated finally.

Simon glanced out at the bullpen, but saw no sign of the observer. He looked back to Jim. "I don't see him, Jim. How do you know?"

"He's here..." Jim cocked his head again -- listening, Simon realized, though to what, he had no idea -- then added, "He's on the elevator."

"You can...what, 'sense' him?"

Jim shook his head, bringing his attention and focus back to Simon. "I don't understand it myself, Simon, but I can...I don't know...feel when he enters the building. I pick up on his heartbeat, his smell--"

Simon held up a hand, stopping Jim. "I'm not sure I want to know this, Jim."

Jim let out a sigh. "I'm not so sure I do either, sir. I'm not sure I care for the implications."

"Implications?"

"It's only with Sandburg, Simon," Jim attempted to explain. "I can't do that with anyone else, and frankly, it...well, it scares me more than I want to admit."

"You've been working pretty closely with the kid for a while now, Jim. Maybe you've just gotten used to him. You just...tune in to him out of familiarity." It was the best explanation Simon could come up with without giving it much more consideration than he was comfortable with at the moment.

"Maybe." Jim didn't sound convinced.

Simon was distracted from answering by Sandburg entering the bullpen. The observer stopped and looked around, spotting them in Simon's office. The captain caught the young man's attention and waved him in.

~~~

Blair opened the door to the captain's office hesitantly, afraid he had misunderstood Banks. He didn't want to get Jim angry. Not that he thought Jim was capable of the humiliation Wester was known for, but he didn't want to chance it. So far, he and Jim seemed to be getting along pretty well. In fact, he would almost go so far as to say they were becoming friends. He didn't want to do anything to mess that up.

When he stepped into the room, the Sentinel was smiling, and Blair felt himself relax. He took the indicated chair next to Jim, sinking gratefully into its cushions. Every muscle in his body was protesting this morning, a mixed result of no sleep and a rough night's work. He desperately wanted a long hot bath to work the soreness loose, but knew it would hours before he could indulge in that particular fantasy. There hadn't even been time for a shower after work. He'd barely had time to change clothes and grab a quick breakfast.

Belatedly, Blair realized Captain Banks was talking to him. "Sir?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as dumb as he felt at the slip.

"I asked if you'd like some coffee," the captain repeated patiently.

Blair nodded and smiled his thanks when the man handed him a cup of the steaming liquid. He hoped it would help clear the cobwebs from his tired brain. He was dearly missing that five hours sleep he usually grabbed between leaving the station and going to work. He'd pulled all-nighters more times than he could count studying for a test or working on a paper, but he was usually in better shape than this when he did. He was already feeling pretty rundown, between the stress and the extra workload of the past few weeks. And he hadn't really been eating good, either. Most of the time, he was just too tired to bother. It was all beginning to catch up with him now, and his body was starting to protest...loudly.

He sipped on the steaming coffee, closing his eyes and relishing the strong, rich flavor. It finally registered with him that no one was saying anything. He opened his eyes to find both Jim and Simon watching him with confusing expressions on their faces.

"What?" Had he done something wrong?

"You look tired, Chief," Jim stated.

Blair almost frowned. He was hoping it didn't show. He'd stopped downstairs and splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to wash away the worst of the clues. Guess it didn't work. Aloud he said, "I didn't sleep that well last night. I get insomnia sometimes. It's no big deal. I'll catch up tonight."

Blair made the mistake of looking up and catching Jim's gaze. Jim knew he was lying. Blair had taught him how to read the subtle signs just a few days ago. He had a sudden flash of Nathan the day he'd beat the shit out of Blair for lying to him. He instinctively flinched, causing the blistering hot coffee to splash out of the cup and onto his hand. He scarcely noticed, but when Jim jumped up and grabbed the cup from his shaking hand, Blair jerked back violently, still caught up in the memory and fear. The remaining coffee splashed on them both.

Blair was instantly pulled out of his flashback by the scalding liquid soaking into his shirt and pants. "Oh, man, Jim, I'm so sorry!" He jumped to his feet backing up from the suddenly still Sentinel. Oh, God, Jim was going to kill him now. He couldn't bring himself to look at the detective, for fear of what he'd see. He took another step back, bringing himself closer to the door and escape. "I'm sorry, Jim."

"It's okay, Chief. It was an accident."

Jim didn't sound angry. Blair risked lifting his eyes and was surprised to see the man didn't look angry either, though there was something lurking in the Sentinel's eyes that Blair couldn't readily identify.

"It's all right, Sandburg," Simon said, drawing Blair's attention. The captain had gotten a towel from somewhere and was holding it out to Blair.

Dumbly, Blair reached for it, and began to scrub at the rapidly cooling liquid. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"No harm done, Blair," Jim assured him, dabbing at his own pants with a handful of tissues. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not usually so clumsy." Blair tried for a light tone. "I guess I'm just tired or something."

"That happens when you work all night instead of sleeping," Jim said, catching Blair's eye.

Blair froze. He couldn't have answered if he'd wanted to, not with his heart in his throat. Jim knew. But he still didn't look mad. If he'd been keeping something like that from Nathan...But Jim wasn't Nathan.

Blair's fear leached slowly away, leaving embarrassment in its wake. He hadn't wanted Jim to know he was working nights. And now, not only did Jim somehow know, but so did the captain. Not good.

"How did you find out?" he asked, returning to his attempts to dry his clothes.

"I followed you," Jim admitted, looking a bit sheepish himself. "Last night after I dropped you off."

"Oh." Blair finally stopped dabbing at the wet cloth clinging uncomfortably to him. He turned his attention to the puddled, brown liquid under the chair he had vacated.

"Leave it, Sandburg," Simon said, moving back around his desk to sit again. "I'll get someone in here to clean it when we finish."

"No, it's okay. My mess, I'll clean it." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence till Blair finished and stood. He faced Jim and asked, "Why did you follow me, Jim?"

Jim rubbed a hand across his face, dropping heavily into his abandoned chair with a sigh. He seemed to be having way too much trouble finding an answer. Blair knew the answer anyway so he decided to save Jim the effort.

"I was acting like an idiot yesterday over the stakeout thing, and you got suspicious." He gave Jim a half-smile. "Am I close?"

"I was worried, Chief. I could tell for the past few days that something was going on with you, and you haven't exactly been forthcoming with the information. I know that doesn't really justify what I did, but--"

"No, I understand," Blair said, reclaiming his own seat.

Jim frowned. "I figured you would be a little more upset than that."

"Why?"

"Well..." he hesitated. "Because I thought you might be...you know..."

"Doing something illegal?" Blair supplied, not understanding Jim's discomfort. "Look, Jim, I've been working with Nathan for almost two years, and he still searches my apartment regularly for drugs. You've only known me for a few weeks. You don't have any reason to trust me. Why should you?"

"He what?!"

Blair turned to look at Simon, surprised at the outburst. "Well, look at me," he challenged mildly. "You can't tell me the suspicion hasn't crossed your mind at least once." He tried to smile to show he wasn't offended.

"Blair, I wish you had said something when you got here," Jim said, effectively changing the subject. "I had no idea there was a problem."

"There wasn't a problem."

"Sandburg," Simon interjected. "How long do you think you can do this? Work with Jim all day, then work a night shift?"

"Ten more days. Then I'll be going back to Seattle." Back to work with Nathan. He tried to control the dread that thought elicited.

"You have to quit," Jim suddenly announced in a firm, no-nonsense tone.

Blair was surprised at the vehemence in the voice, backed up by a flash of anger in the ice-blue eyes. He found himself swallowing hard. There was no arguing with that tone, as he had long since learned with Nathan. Jim was angry he was working nights?

Well, no wonder...Just look at the trouble it had caused last night. And now, it was evidently obvious that Blair was exhausted. How could he reasonably expect to manage a productive day with Jim? How much help would he be in this state?

"I'm sorry, Jim," he quickly apologized. "I really didn't think it would interfere with our work when I started, or I would have figured out something else." He looked down, trying to think quickly. "If I quit now, I'll still draw a check for most of the week. It should be enough to tide me over till I go back to Seattle. If not, I can go back to the shelter for a day or two." Blair suddenly realized that he had been thinking out loud. He felt the color drain from his face as he looked up to find two very angry blue eyes pinning him in place. Blair consciously fought the urge to shrink into the vinyl of the chair.

"You stayed in a shelter?"

"Only a couple of nights," Blair reluctantly admitted. Why had he opened his big mouth? No wonder Nathan was always telling him how stupid he was. Now he had pissed Jim off...again. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Blair didn't answer, not sure why exactly Jim was angry.

"Sandburg..." Jim stopped, sighed and started over. "Blair, what I meant was, you don't need to work while you're here. For God's sake, Chief, you're only in Cascade in the first place to help me. The least I can do is give you a place to stay while you're here. You can move into my place for the rest of your stay."

Blair stared in surprise at the Sentinel. "Move into your place?" Something warm and foreign took up residence in his heart at the words.

"Yeah, I have plenty of room. It's what we should have done from the start. I just didn't stop to consider it. I'm sorry, Blair. You should never have been put in the position you were in."

"Not your problem, man," Blair protested, but a large part of him was unaccountably pleased at the man's words. He had never expected Jim to invite him to stay at his place. He found himself grinning and suddenly felt foolish. The two cops must think he was an idiot, to get so carried away over such a simple invitation.

"If that's settled," Simon interrupted Blair's thoughts, "then you two get out of here." He directed his next words to Jim. "The kid looks like he's dead on his feet. Take the rest of the day off, get him settled in at your place and make him get some sleep. That's an order." His words and tone were gruff, but Blair saw the smile that worked a corner of his mouth.

"Yes, sir," Jim said, grabbing Blair's arm and steering him toward the door. "Let's get out of here, Chief, before he changes his mind."

~~~

Blair was impressed. Not exactly what he had pictured for Ellison, based on his previous experience with a Sentinel and on his own observations of the detective, but still, very nice. A bit bare, but that seemed to suit Jim. The man was no nonsense, cut and dried, black and white; it made sense he wouldn't be one for clutter in his life, and the loft reflected that.

Jim moved around Blair, who had stopped in the doorway, and tossed his keys in a basket beside the door. "Bathroom's through there," he said pointing down the short hallway off the kitchen. "I'll see about fixing some lunch while you clean up."

Blair stepped further into the room, his alert eyes taking in everything.

"Chief?"

Blair turned to find Jim watching him with an amused grin on his face. He returned the grin somewhat sheepishly. "Yeah?"

"You can drop your things in there," Jim said, gesturing to a doorless room under the stairs.

Blair dropped his backpack and his duffel bag on the floor in the indicated room. He headed for the bathroom, then as a thought struck him, he turned back to the kitchen. "Jim...would it be all right if I took a quick shower? I was kind of rushed this morning, didn't really have time. I'll be quick."

"Sure, Chief, go right ahead. Take your time."

Blair grabbed a change of clothes from his duffel bag and went into the bathroom. It wasn't until he was under the steaming water that he let himself relax. He folded his arms on the wall and rested his head against them, letting the hot water work its magic on both body and soul. Man, this felt good...almost as good as soaking in a hot bath. Maybe later he could do that, too. He didn't think Jim would mind.

He would have loved to have just stayed there all day, enjoying the massage of water on overworked muscles, but he'd promised Jim he would be quick. Besides, his stomach was reminding him how light breakfast had been. He hurriedly dried off and dressed. He pulled his hair back in a tie, then, giving it a moment's thought, he let it back down again. Nathan hated Blair's long hair, claiming it made him 'look like a pansy'. He'd done his best to convince Blair to cut it, but that was one thing Blair stood firm on. His compromise was to keep it pulled back when he was around the man. But, he reminded himself again, Jim wasn't Nathan. And if it turned out Jim objected to Blair wearing his hair down, he could always pull it back again.

~~~

Jim was just setting soup and sandwiches on the table when Blair exited the bathroom, his damp curls loose around his shoulders.

"It's longer than I thought," Jim mused aloud.

Blair stopped a few steps away. "What?"

"Your hair," Jim explained, gesturing absently as he turned to the refrigerator for two bottled waters. When he turned back, Blair was in the process of wrapping an elastic tie around the curls, forcing them into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck. Jim frowned. "That wasn't a criticism, Chief. Just an observation. That's the first time I've seen you wear it down."

Blair slid into a chair, not meeting Jim's eye. "Nathan doesn't..." He paused, glanced up quickly at Jim then back down at the soup. "Smells good, Jim. Thanks."

Whatever the kid had been about to say about the Seattle Sentinel was forgotten as he dove into the food before him. Jim thought about pursuing it, but changed his mind. Not his business, he reminded himself. After another moment of watching the kid to be sure he wasn't going to choke on the sandwich he was practically swallowing whole, Jim turned his attention to his own food.

Two bowls of soup and one more sandwich later, Blair pushed back from the table, stifling a jaw popping yawn. "Sorry, man."

"Why don't you go upstairs and get a nap?" Jim asked gathering the dishes.

Blair stood and reached for his empty bowl and plate. "Nah, I'm fine, man. We should take advantage of this extra time to run a few more tests, maybe try some new stuff--"

Jim cut him off with a look. "No arguments, Chief. You didn't get any sleep last night. I doubt you've been getting much at all lately." He took the dishes from Blair. "My bedroom is right up those stairs. Go on, get some sleep while you can."

A small smile graced the young man's face. "I am kind of tired. But I'll be okay down here on the couch for an hour or so."

"Take the bedroom, Sandburg. It'll be quieter and a lot more comfortable."

Blair nodded and headed for the stairs. At the foot, he turned back and called, "Jim?"

Jim looked up. "Yeah?"

"Thanks, man."

~~~

Jim opened the door, relishing the look of surprise on Simon's face. The dark captain had his fist raised in a prelude to knocking.

"I'm not even going to ask," Simon said gruffly, stepping past Jim into the loft. "I don't want to know. But next time, let me knock first."

"Yes, sir," Jim replied with a knowing smile. "I just didn't want you to wake Sandburg."

Simon took off his coat, handing it to Jim, who hung it on the rack behind the door. "He's asleep already? It's only..." he stole a quick glance at his watch, "eight-thirty."

"Actually, he laid down for a nap right after lunch and never got back up," Jim informed him.

"Are you sure he's all right?" Simon glanced around the loft. "Where is he?"

"Upstairs," Jim replied, heading for the 'fridge. "He's fine. Just sleeping heavy. Beer?"

"Sure. Guess he was as tired as he looked."

Jim handed his captain the cold beer and the two men headed into the living room. Once they were seated, Simon said, "Jim, are you sure about this? Having the kid stay here with you?"

"He couldn't continue working like he was, Simon. You know that. And you should have seen the inside of that hotel he was staying in. I'm surprised it hadn't been condemned yet."

"That's not what I'm saying, Jim. I just think that maybe we could have looked for another solution. What do you know about this kid? This time yesterday, you were seriously considering the fact that he might be into something illegal. You've got to admit, you did a pretty quick turnaround."

"Simon, he took a night job just so he could afford to stay in Cascade and work with me. I think that says a hell of a lot about him."

"I won't argue that, Jim. I'm just wondering what else you don't know about him. You told me yourself that he doesn't talk much about himself."

"What do you want to know, Captain Banks?"

Both men turned to see Blair descending the stairs from Jim's room, his hair sleep mussed, his clothes rumpled and twisted.

"Sandburg..." Simon started. "I didn't mean--"

Blair waved a hand in dismissal and proceeded down the stairs. "I understand, sir. You're right, you don't know anything about me. I'm sure you've already done a background check. So what else do you want to know?"

"We know all we need to know," Jim said firmly, throwing a meaningful glance at Simon.

Blair continued on as though Jim hadn't spoken. "You want employment history? Education? Family? Well, let's see..." He stopped at the edge of the living room, facing both men and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm the only son of Naomi Sandburg and a one night stand roughly twenty five years ago, but I've been on my own since I was fourteen. I worked my way through school, so I can claim experience in just about every field you can name that involves manual labor. I've done everything from construction work to driving a big rig. I started college when I was sixteen, got my B.A. and my Masters in Anthro by the time I was twenty. I'm still working on my doctorate, but then you both know that. I'm currently a teaching fellow at Washington State University, but you know that, too. You know about my work with Nathan and the Seattle PD, so I won't go into that. Any questions? Anything I left out?"

There was a moment of awkward silence. Blair stood watching them both. Jim couldn't tell from either his tone or his expression if he was angry.

Finally, Simon broke the silence. "I'm sorry, Sandburg. I didn't mean that the way it must have sounded."

Blair stepped around the chair and sank into it. "No need to apologize, Captain. You were right. You don't know anything about me, and you are a cop; that's got to rankle just a bit." He lightened his words with a small, crooked smile. "Besides, I can see how my actions the past couple of weeks might have seemed suspicious on the surface. I'm sorry I didn't explain myself. I should have been straight with you from the start."

"Hungry, Chief?" Jim asked, effectively changing the subject. "You slept right through supper, but I could throw something together." Without waiting for an answer, he stood and headed to the kitchen. "Simon? You hungry?"

Simon stood. "No, thanks, Jim. I can't stay. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right." He retrieved his coat from the rack and draped it across his arm. "I'll see you two in the morning."

Jim saw the man out, then returned to the kitchen and the search for something quick and hot to feed the kid. "What about chili, Sandburg? I've got some leftovers in the 'fridge."

"That's fine," Blair said, moving into the kitchen. "But I can do that. You don't have to wait on me, man."

"Sit, Sandburg," Jim ordered. Surprisingly, the kid did without any further argument.

Jim pulled the dish of leftover chili out and scraped it into a pot. Once it was on to heat, he turned to Blair, who was quietly watching him from the table. "Chief, about what Simon said..."

Blair waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry about it, man. I wasn't offended."

"Well, you had a right to be."

"Why? He was right. You don't know anything about me, yet you're trusting me with the senses stuff, you're letting me stay in your home...Captain Banks is just watching out for you, Jim. That's what friends do."

Jim stirred the chili for a few minutes before deciding it was hot enough. He dished out a large bowl of it and grabbed a pack of crackers from the cabinet, setting both on the table before Blair.

"Thanks, man. Smells great."

Jim grabbed a cold beer, popped the top off and placed it next to his guest. Then he slid into a chair facing Blair.

"Great chili, man. What kind of meat do you use?"

"It's a mix of chuck and ground pork," Jim replied, raising his eyebrows in surprise at the question.

"You should really try it with ostrich. You wouldn't believe the difference and it doesn't have all that cholesterol you get with beef and pork."

Ostrich? Where in the heck did one buy ostrich meat? Jim resisted the urge to grimace, forcing an interested look instead. "You'll have to fix it for me sometime." And I may even be able to force myself to eat it.

Blair dropped his eyes. "I won't be here that much longer."

"Are you saying you won't be back once you leave?" He tried to control the panic he felt at that thought.

"I don't know." Blair concentrated on eating, not lifting his gaze. "Maybe."

"Blair..." Jim waited until he looked up before continuing. "Can I do this Sentinel thing alone? Do I know enough?" Jim was afraid of the answer he'd get, but had to ask.

Blair stopped eating and sat staring at his spoon. "You're a fast learner, Jim. You're picking this up way faster than Nathan did."

Jim took silent note of the way Blair's heart rate spiked at the name. "But do I know enough to keep me from zoning every time I try to use my senses?"

There was a much too long silence. "No," Blair said, finally lifting his gaze. "But I've been thinking about that. I thought maybe I would go out to Rainier and talk to a few people I know there. I think I could find someone that would be--"

"No!" Jim couldn't help but notice the way Blair flinched at the anger in his tone. Guilt flashed through him and he softened his voice before continuing. "I don't want to work with some stranger on this. I thought we both agreed that no one could know about the senses."

"We did, but, Jim, I can't work with you much longer and you have to have someone to help you, man. If you don't want to work with a stranger then...maybe I can teach Simon, or one of the other detectives, someone you trust--"

Jim rose abruptly and went into the kitchen. He began angrily snatching up the dishes he had pulled out to warm the chili.

"Jim..." He hadn't heard Blair get up, but the voice came from right behind him. Jim didn't turn. "Man, don't tune me out like that. We need to discuss this and find a solution. You've made amazing progress these past few weeks. I really mean that, man. I'm going to have to totally reexamine a lot of the conclusions I had drawn from working with Nathan." There was that damned pulse spike again. "You have remarkable control over your senses considering the short length of time you've been using them. You could almost get by on your own...if it weren't for the zone outs."

Jim spun around to face the young man. "How long?" At Blair's confused expression, he rephrased the question. "How long will I need a...a baby-sitter? How long until I can get past these zone outs?"

Blair inhaled deeply, running a hand over his long curls. "That's not an easy question to answer, Jim. Nathan still has problems with zone outs..."

"And you've been working with him for almost two years," Jim finished. "So you're saying that the problem may never go away. I may need a baby-sitter for the rest of my life."

"Not a baby-sitter, man. Someone to watch your back. It's not much different than any other cop needing a partner. Only difference is, this is a partner that understands what you are and can help you best utilize it...and, yes, protect you from zoning."

Jim stared into the dark blue eyes before him for several long moments. Finally, resigned, he sighed. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"Don't look at it like that, Jim. What you have is a wonderful gift. You have no idea what I would give to be able to do what you can, experience what you do just for a day. Don't cheat yourself out of enjoying what you are, man. You're the one that ends up losing if you do."

Jim slowly smiled, unable to resist the expression of enthusiasm he saw in the young face staring up at him. "Do what you have to, Chief. I'll work with whoever you choose."

An answering smile brightened the kid's face. "It'll work out, Jim, you'll see."

Jim went back to straightening the kitchen. Blair gathered his dishes from the table and washed them, despite Jim's protest. Once they were finished, Jim found the last of a baseball game on TV, and the two of them settled in on the couch to watch it.

"Sandburg?" Jim asked when the station went to a commercial at the bottom of the eighth inning.

"Umm?" came Blair's sleepy reply.

"I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me."

Blair gave Jim a sidelong glance full of curiosity. "Would I have a reason to not be honest?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm not sure." Jim returned the gaze, suddenly hesitant of broaching this subject for fear of spooking the kid. But he'd gone this far now...besides, he really wanted an answer. "It's about Wester..."

Blair swallowed audibly and turned his gaze back to the television.

"That's what I'm talking about," Jim pointed out. Blair continued to stare at the TV screen. Jim grabbed the remote and muted the sound. He wanted to know the kid was listening to him. "Why are you scared of him?"

Blair shot him a quick look. "What? I'm not scared of him. Why would you think that?" He reached for the beer on the coffee table and took a long swig.

"Every time his name comes up, your heartbeat goes through the roof, and you start acting nervous. What's going on with him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Jim. Look, I'll admit, I'm not overly fond of the guy, but you don't understand. I spent years looking for him. Well, for a Sentinel. I didn't even have proof that they still existed, beyond my gut instincts, and everybody was telling me I was crazy, searching for a myth. Then I found Nathan and proved, at least to myself, that I wasn't crazy. He's going to get me my doctorate, man, and you have no idea how important that is to me. Yeah, he's...well, a little rough around the edges--"

"He's a jerk and a bully," Jim interrupted.

"It's a small price to pay for my degree."

"Has he ever hurt you?"

Blair's face paled noticeably. "What?"

"You heard the question, Darwin. Has he?"

Blair looked away again, but not before Jim saw the open panic there. "Of course not! I don't know what would make you even ask that question." Blair jumped to his feet, pacing across the room.

"Because I've seen the way you react to his name, I saw the bruises on you the day you came here--"

"I told you, man, I was mugged."

"Then how come there's no record of it in Seattle? You said you reported it, right?"

Blair turned back to face Jim. "You checked?"

At last, a small indication of anger in his tone. Jim was beginning to think the kid wasn't capable of anger. "I was concerned, Chief."

"I can't believe you would do that," Blair said, resuming his pacing. "I thought you said you trusted me. Man, you are no different than Nathan!" He stopped suddenly, running both hands over his hair. "I didn't mean that, Jim. I'm sorry." He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "I really didn't mean it. You're nothing like Nathan. Nothing at all."

Jim stood silently for a few minutes, letting the young man gather himself. "You don't have to go back if you don't want to."

Blair drew in a slow, deep breath, then slowly brought his eyes up to meet Jim's. "Yes, I do, man."

"Why? I don't understand."

"That's exactly it, man, you don't understand." There was no malice in the words, just a simple truth. "I have a responsibility to Nathan."

"You don't owe the man anything, Blair."

"I know, man, that's not what I mean." Blair looked away, and Jim could see the struggle as he searched for words to express the countless emotions playing across his expressive face. "I don't know how to explain it...He's a Sentinel, and I'm a..."

"A what?" Jim pressed, not following at all.

"I'm a Guide! I'm his Guide! Sentinels are predisposed to protecting the tribe, their territory. I'm only just beginning to realize that that territory, in Nathan's case, includes me. My theory is that he sees me as one of his possessions. I think that's why he comes unglued every time I get around you. There's an instinctual thing going on that I haven't even begun to explore yet. He sees you as a threat to what's his, because you're another Sentinel."

"You're right," Jim said, shaking his head in confusion, "I don't understand."

"Nathan is a Sentinel," Blair said again. "He needs me."

"I'm a Sentinel," Jim reminded him.

Blair's voice was barely a whisper. "I know, Jim. Believe me, I know." A bit louder, he added, "But I met Nathan first. I wish I hadn't, but I did, and I can't change that."

Jim opened his mouth to argue further, but what he saw in the anthropologist's eyes stopped him. He'd never viewed loyalty as a fault before, but he was now revising that opinion. Only, the kid made it sound like something more then mere loyalty. Almost like there was something more between a Sentinel and a...what was it he called himself? A Guide. Whatever there was between Wester and Sandburg was none of his business. He had no claims to Blair.

Jim turned away, resigned. The ball game was over. He picked up the remote and turned off the television. "It's been a long day."

"Yeah," Blair replied softly. "I'll...um...if you'll show me where I can find a blanket, I'll just crash here on the couch."

Jim gathered some extra bedding and handed them to the kid. Then with a mumbled "good-night" he climbed the stairs to bed.

~~~

Blair squinted at the bright sunlight as he stepped from the Rainier library. It had been raining and chilly when Jim dropped him off a couple of hours ago, but the sky had cleared and the temperatures had increased to a comfortable level. Blair leaned his head back and closed his eyes with a smile, soaking up the warm rays. He loved the way the sun felt on his skin. Times like this made him wonder why he had chosen north Washington to set down roots, however temporary. He tended to believe it had something to do with destiny or fate or maybe a higher power. If he hadn't chosen WSU for his post-grad work, he wouldn't have met Wester...or Jim.

A wave of sadness washed over Blair. He lowered his head and opened his eyes. Why couldn't he have met Jim first? But he hadn't, and there was nothing he could do about it. Like it or not, he was tied to Nathan. The cords might be invisible, but they were there and just as binding as the real thing.

He belonged to Nathan.

The truth of the sudden realization brought Blair's heart to his throat. He hated the idea of being a possession, but he couldn't deny his inability to cut himself loose from the Seattle Sentinel. Just the thought of leaving Nathan, as appealing as it was, sent a shiver of panic through him that he didn't understand. He'd only been able to find the most basic mention of a Guide in all his years of research. One reference to a person that guarded the Sentinel, body and soul, providing for his well-being. Nothing that described the duties of the Guide, or the qualifications, and especially nothing that spoke of a connection between Sentinel and Guide.

Blair almost smirked at the self-declared title. It sounded so pretentious. So un-him. But that's what he was. A Guide, big "G". A Sentinel's Guide. And he was only now discovering the weight that title carried.

There were so many questions, and he had no idea where to find the answers. Was he just someone who happened to know a little something about Sentinels? Or was there more to it? If so, did that mean he was bound to Nathan forever? And where did that leave Jim? If Guides were...special...as he suspected and not just some joe off the street, what were his chances of finding another one for Jim?

And just how arrogant was this train of thought? Blair Sandburg? Special? Hardly.

Blair sighed deeply, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking him. He didn't have time for this deep introspection into his role in the Sentinel world. He had an appointment with Doctor Grier in -- he glanced at his watch -- ten minutes.

Blair started across campus toward Hargrove Hall and the professor's office. This was going to be difficult, and he was dreading it much more than he'd thought he would. Not the meeting itself; he'd met Doctor Grier several times in the past few years, and he genuinely liked the man. The plan was to test the man with a few discreet questions to see if he would be willing to help Blair find someone to continue working with Jim on a regular basis. Which was why he was dreading the meeting. The thought of someone else working with Jim, backing him up on the job, teaching him, sharing the discovery of the wonders of his senses...

Blair stopped and closed his eyes. Several deep breaths later he was back in control of his panic. He stood there a moment more, running through the arguments he had already had on why this was the only option. Damn! He felt like he was being torn in half! On the one hand he felt he had no choice but to stay with Nathan, but on the other...God, he wanted to stay in Cascade and work with Jim!

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. This was what he had to do. This was right. Opening his eyes, he took a step forward, only to run into a brick wall of a man. He looked up, an "excuse me" on his lips, and froze.

"Nathan..."

~~~

Jim grabbed frantically for the ringing cell phone, trying to keep his eyes on the road as he drove.

"Blair?" he called into it hopefully.

"Not the last time I checked," Simon's voice answered. "Problem?"

"I'm not sure." Jim clenched the phone between his ear and shoulder in order to use both hands for a too-fast turn. "Maybe. I can't find Blair."

"What do you mean you can't find him?"

"I dropped him at Rainier this morning. He wanted to do some research at the library there, then he had a meeting with one of the professors about finding someone local to work with me. I was supposed to pick him up an hour ago, but he wasn't there. I checked with the professor he was supposed to meet. Blair never showed up."

"Maybe something came up."

"Then why didn't he call? He would have at least called Doctor Grier to reschedule the meeting. This is important to him." He paused to maneuver another turn. "I've got a bad feeling about this, Simon."

"You think something happened to the kid?"

"I don't know," Jim admitted. "But there's something..."

"Yeah...?" Simon prompted when Jim broke off.

"I don't know how to describe it. It's an irritation that I can't identify. Something's just not right."

"Is this related to the Sentinel thing?"

"I wish I knew, Simon. All I know for sure is I need to find Blair."

"There's not a lot I can do from this end, Jim. Not without some kind of evidence that something happened."

Jim was silent. He knew Simon's hands were tied without something more than instinct to go on. But he didn't have to like it.

"At least, there's nothing official I can do," Simon added. "I'll talk to the patrols working that area and ask them to keep their eyes open."

"Thanks, sir," Jim said. "I appreciate that."

"Where are you now?"

"On my way to the loft," Jim replied, "just on the off chance I'm wrong, and he headed back there."

"Call me, Jim," Simon said.

"Just as soon as I know anything," Jim promised. He disconnected the phone and tossed it on the seat beside him just as he pulled into the loft parking lot. Once he was in the elevator, headed up to the third floor, he focused his hearing on the apartment, searching for some sign that the young anthropologist was there, but was met by silence.

Inside the loft, a quick search revealed no evidence that Sandburg had been there since they had left together that morning. The blankets and pillow Blair had been using were folded neatly on the couch, and a quick glance into the storage room under the stairs showed Blair's duffel bag was still there.

Jim turned back toward the door. That's when he saw the flashing light on the answering machine, indicating a message. With an undeniable sense of dread, Jim pushed the button. Instantly, Blair's voice filled the loft.

"Hey, Jim, it's me, Blair. I've only got a minute here, but I wanted to let you know everything's okay. Man, I'm so sorry about disappearing on you like that. I know that was so not cool. But, um, something came up in Seattle, and I had to come back. I am really, really sorry, Jim. For everything. I didn't get a chance to talk to Doctor Grier yet. I promise I'm gonna get back on that just as soon as possible. You've gotta promise me, man, that you won't work alone until I do. This is serious, Jim. You can't take any chances. You have to remember all the things we covered, and you've got to continue to practice the exercises we worked on. You've come a long way; you've learned a lot. With practice, you'll go even further. I'm sorry that I can't be the one to help you, man. I really do wish I had met you first.

"I didn't have a chance to go back by there and get the rest of my things. You can toss out the clothes if you want, but if you could just hang on to the notebooks in the duffel bag for me until I can get them, I would really, really appreciate it.

Jim heard Blair take a deep breath before continuing. "Look, Jim, I know it really sucks, leaving you in the lurch like this. I'm so sorry, man. If there was any other way...well, there isn't. I'll call you just as soon as I get something lined up with Doctor Grier. I promise."

There was a slight pause. When Blair spoke again, his voice had taken on a desperate quality that was unmistakable.

"It, um...it would be better if you didn't try to call me or come down here or anything. It's not that I don't want you to. It's just that Nathan--" There was another short pause, during which Jim heard a loud noise in the background. Then, with a quick rush of words, "I've gotta go, Jim. I'll call. I promise. Bye."

Jim stared at the machine long after it clicked and turned itself off. There was no mistaking the stress in his Guide's voice--

Wait a minute! Blair was not his Guide! That much had been made very plain. What had possessed him to think of the kid in those terms? Blair was Wester's Guide. Period. End of discussion. Blair's message had made that quite clear.

Jim set down his keys and took off his jacket. He picked up the phone and slowly dialed Simon's number.

"Banks."

"Ellison, sir. You can cancel the watch for Sandburg."

"You found him? So, is everything all right?"

"He's gone back to Seattle." Jim's voice was flat, unemotional.

"Without telling you? I thought he was going to be here till the end of the week?"

"Evidently there was a change of plans."

There was a short silence. Then, "Jim, are you okay?"

Jim took a deep breath. "Fine, sir. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Jim, don't play that game with me. I know that you were depending on the kid to--"

"I wasn't depending on him for anything, Simon!" Jim snapped. "I don't depend on anyone!"

"Right," Simon replied, not at all fazed by Jim's outburst. "Keep telling yourself that, Jim. I hope you're having better luck convincing yourself than you are me."

Jim sighed, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had appeared. "It doesn't matter. Blair's made his decision."

"And we both know what he's gone back to," Simon pointed out.

Jim closed his eyes against the shot of adrenaline that rushed through him at the captain's words. Something primal inside of him was demanding action, only to be brought up short by an equally strong feeling of frustration. He was overwhelmed by his need to safeguard, to defend what was his. Only, there was nothing truly his that needed defending. Whatever this sense of...of guardianship was that he felt concerning Sandburg, it was misguided. That, if nothing else, was abundantly clear to Jim.

"He's grown, Simon," Jim finally stated into the phone. "He's made his decision. Let it go."

Jim hung up the phone without a good-bye, and turned to look across the living space that seemed so unnaturally bare all of a sudden. Now, if only he could just take his own advice.

~~~

Part 2
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