Disclaimer: This story is an amateur effort, written purely for fun, and is not intended to breach any copyrights dealing with the television production "The Sentinel".

This is a sequel to "Falling Awake". It won't make much sense if you haven't read that one. Big thanks go to Diana, for beta reading and for the gentle nudge to write this in the first place.

Onoma
by ysone
ysone@otelco.net

Jim Ellison glanced over at his friend, who was gazing calmly out the window of the truck. They were going home. Blair Sandburg didn't seem nervous at the idea, though he was unnaturally quiet, contemplative. Well, what do you expect, Ellison, Jim argued silently with himself. The kid has been through hell in the past few months. It's only natural that he's still processing it all.

In the month since Blair had returned 'from the dead', the young man had made slow, but continuous progress. His memories had returned once the drugs had been purged from his system, just as Doctor Doganiero had promised. But Blair had had difficulty dealing with the emotional backlash that had resulted from Frank Lowery's twisted scheme.

Jim's hands tightened unconsciously on the steering wheel at the thought of Lowery. Because of that bastard, for three long months, Jim had believed Blair was dead. Even now, Jim knew he had never really come to terms emotionally with the loss of his best friend. But he had suffered nonetheless, just as Lowery had planned, in his psychotic need for revenge against the man Lowery felt was responsible for his brother's death. Lowery had taken from Jim what he thought Jim had taken from him. And Blair had been the innocent pawn, very nearly losing his life and his sanity in the process.

The drugs Lowery had pumped for months into Sandburg had come very close to killing the young man, and had twisted his mind so much that the kid had actually thought he was Bobby Lowery. Frank had given Sandburg a new identity, and not only made the kid believe it was true, but somewhere along the line Lowery had come to believe it himself. The man was certifiable, Jim thought with an angry shake of his head. And he had almost taken Sandburg over the edge with him.

Jim glanced once more at his partner. Blair looked better. He was still too thin, but Jim intended to remedy that once he got his friend home. He knew Blair's favorite foods and had spent a whole day shopping for them, stocking the pantry for the young man's homecoming. Give him a couple of weeks, and Jim intended to have all of the missing weight back on the small frame.

"I'd feel a lot safer if you kept your eyes on the road," Blair said without turning his head from the window.

Jim bit back a smile as he turned his attention back to his driving. "Can't help it, Chief. I'm just glad things are finally going to get back to normal."

Blair's head came around to look at the detective. "Jim...things may not..." He stopped, took a breath, and shook his head. "Never mind."

Jim glanced at him, suddenly uneasy. Their eyes met for a brief instant, and Jim could read his friend's uncertainty with little effort. "Listen, Blair, I know it's going to still take some time. But you're alive, which is more than I could say a month ago, and you're healthy, and you're coming home. Right now, that's as much as I need. We'll work out the rest of it in time."

Blair actually smiled at that. Jim was pleased to see the response. The kid hadn't had a lot to smile about in the past few weeks.

"Thanks, Jim."

As Jim maneuvered the truck into a parking space in front of the loft, he allowed himself a mental pat on the back. Everything was going to be just fine. All of his worries had been for nothing.

* * * * *

Blair reached for his duffel bag, biting back a frustrated sigh as Jim pulled it away from him. He considered protesting, but decided it was a waste of time. For some reason, the detective had it in his mind that Blair was all but helpless, and no amount of arguing was going to convince him otherwise. Blair just hoped time would make the argument for him. Even Naomi had been convinced, finally, of Blair's physical recovery and had been persuaded to resume her travels. Blair knew she would burn up the phone lines, but at least she had stopped hovering over him. Now, if only Jim could be convinced to do the same.

Jim headed for the loft, setting a pace that set Blair's teeth on edge. He almost asked the detective if he could run on ahead and wait for Jim. But he bit back the sarcasm and forced himself to match Jim's pace. When they finally reached the loft, and Jim unlocked the door, Blair let out a sigh of relief. Jim shot him a look of concern. Blair mentally kicked himself and put on a smile for Jim's benefit. "I'm just glad to be home, Jim."

Jim returned the smile, evidently buying the explanation. "Why don't you go rest on the couch while I fix us some lunch?" He set Blair's bag down and headed for the kitchen.

"Yeah, just let me put this stuff away," Blair said grabbing the duffel bag and heading for his room.

"I'll take care of that, Chief." Jim hurried back from the kitchen and reached for the bag.

Blair pulled it away, momentarily losing his temper. "Jim, I can do it!" He instantly regretted his outburst. Jim was only trying to help. Blair knew that, but it was so frustrating to be treated like an invalid when there was nothing wrong with him. Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. Nothing was physically wrong with him, at any rate. He forced calmness back into his tone. "I'm okay, Jim. It's my mind that's screwed up, not my body." It was an attempt at humor, but it fell far short of its mark.

"That's not funny, Sandburg!"

Blair was surprised at the anger behind the words. "Come on, Jim, lighten up. I feel fine. I'm not sick, I'm not tired. I'm just a little confused now and then. It'll pass. You are way over-reacting here, man."

Jim's expression softened immediately. "I'm sorry, Blair. I just..." He stopped, searching for words.

"I know," Blair hurried to say. He did know. He understood that Jim had been through a lot in the past few months. Blair could only imagine what he, himself, would have felt if he had believed Jim to be dead, only to have the man show up living another man's life. Blair winced at the reminder of his own problems. He was still trying to deal with that particular demon. "But I'm fine, Jim, really. I just want things to be as normal as possible right now. And that means you are going to have to stop hovering. Give me a little credit. I know my limits."

Jim looked unconvinced, but he retreated a few steps. Blair took advantage of the reprieve to turn and head for his room before Jim could change his mind. At the door, he turned to see Jim still watching him.

"Didn't you say something about some lunch?" Blair reminded his partner. He wasn't the least bit hungry. He hadn't had much of an appetite lately, but if it kept Jim busy, so much the better. Not waiting for an answer, Blair entered his room and stopped. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it looked exactly the same. Nothing had been moved that he could tell. It had been cleaned, there wasn't even any dust to be found, but basically, Blair's former life in this small space remained intact. Relief and confusion flooded him, and he had to fight back a ragged breath. His emotions seemed to be so close to the surface lately. Doganiero had assured him that it was perfectly normal, but Blair just saw it as further evidence of how far he still had to go.

He stepped further into the room and pushed the door half-way closed behind him, hoping for a small measure of privacy from the Sentinel. That Jim had not changed anything in the room pleased Blair no end, but it also confused him. He had been 'dead' for three months, yet Jim had not removed one thing of Blair's. It was comforting to see his things as he had left them. It was as though Jim had expected him to come home eventually. But Blair knew better. He hadn't simply been gone on a vacation or expedition. He had been dead for all intents and purposes. Jim had known that. They had discussed it briefly in one of Doctor Doganiero's sessions, but Jim had not been very forthcoming about his emotions on the matter. That had been fine with Blair. He knew Jim wasn't the type to discuss feelings. Blair understood how his friend felt. Or at least he thought he had, until he saw this room. As comforting as it felt, this was wrong.

Blair threw the duffel on the bed and began removing clothes, putting them away as he went. A movement at the door caught his attention, and he turned to find Jim leaning on the jamb, watching him.

"Lunch is almost ready," the detective announced.

Blair nodded and went back to putting away his things. He was almost finished before he found the courage to voice his thoughts. "The room looks the same."

There was a moment of silence, then Jim said, "Well, I did change the sheets."

Blair almost smiled at that, but the underlying truth sobered him quickly. "It doesn't make sense, Jim."

"What? That your things are still here?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, you thought I was dead, man. That's usually a permanent condition."

"I just hadn't gotten to it yet."

"Jim, it was three months, man. You hadn't gotten to it? Why don't I believe that?"

There was another long moment of silence. "What did you expect I would do?" Jim finally asked. His voice was unusually rough. "Did you think I would pack up your things and send them off to the Salvation Army?"

"Yeah, man. That's exactly what I expected. It was the logical thing to do." Blair looked around the room with a half-smile. "I mean, it's not like you could use the clothes, and you've always hated my taste in art."

Jim didn't return the smile. "I just wasn't ready yet, Chief. Let it go." He turned away. "Lunch should be ready."

Blair stared after him for a minute, then followed. "No, I don't think so, Jim. We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't." Jim's tone was final.

"Okay, then, I need to talk about this." Blair stopped, his hands on his hips, and stared at Jim.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this, Chief?" Jim made a pretense of stirring a pot on the stove, not making eye contact with Blair.

"It scares me, Jim." Blair's voice sounded as unsure as he felt. It wasn't an easy admission to make, but it was the truth.

Jim's head snapped up at the confession. Confusion was written across his face. Blair knew Jim was waiting for an explanation, but he had no idea how to put his feelings into words.

"I don't understand it myself," Blair attempted. "It just seems to me that you weren't dealing with...with my 'death' at all. It's not logical that, after three months, you still hadn't gotten rid of my stuff."

Jim set the spoon down and came around the island to stand before Blair. "There is no logic in grief, Blair. It just is."

"Okay, that may be true for close family members, you know, husbands and wives or parents and children. I can see where they would need more time. But..."

"But what?" Jim demanded. "But we aren't family? Is that what you're thinking?"

Blair lowered his eyes. Why was he making Jim say this? It was obviously making the man uncomfortable, but Blair wanted to understand. He didn't want to fill in the blanks with his imagination. He wanted Jim to spell it out for him.

"Sandburg, to be so damned smart, you sure can be dense sometimes." Jim grabbed Blair's arm and steered him to the table, pushing him down into a chair. Jim took a seat beside him. "Listen, in the letter you left for me, you said you thought of me as a brother, a father, and a friend all rolled into one. Did you mean that?"

Blair looked up, surprised. He had forgotten about the letter. He had written it in the hospital, not long after he had accepted that he was going to die. He didn't remember everything he had written, but he did recall what Jim was referring to. "Yeah, man, I meant it. Still do."

"All right, then. Why is it so hard for you to believe that I could feel the same way about you? Do you think I'm too shallow to have feelings that deep?"

"No, of course not," Blair hurried to protest. "It's just that...well, we haven't really talked about how you felt about...you know. I guess I hadn't really thought about how hard it must have been on you until I saw the room. It's kind of scary to think that someone cares that much about me. I'm not sure I'm up to that much responsibility."

Jim grinned, finally, and Blair felt himself relax a bit. "There's no responsibility involved, Sandburg. Just accept it." Jim stood and went back to the kitchen to check on lunch. "If that's settled, go wash up. Lunch is ready."

* * * * *

"How is he adjusting?" Simon Banks asked. "Any problems?"

Jim took a seat in front of the police captain's desk, considering his answer thoughtfully. "Nothing really that I wasn't anticipating. He's too quiet. That is a little disconcerting."

"I'll bet," Simon snorted. Sandburg quiet? Hard to imagine. "He's still processing it, Jim. Just give him time. He's been home only a few days."

"I know, Doganiero's already explained it to me a dozen times. It's just difficult to see him struggling to put everything in its place and not be able to help him."

Simon nodded knowingly. He could easily understand how frustrating this must be for Jim. "Does he talk about it much?"

"Not with me," Jim shook his head. "But he's thinking about it, I can tell. Sometimes he just draws inside himself, and I can tell he's back there, in his mind, in Lowery's world. I can only imagine what he's feeling."

No, you can't, Simon thought, but didn't voice. How would it feel to lose your identity, only to take on someone else's? How would it feel to grow to love and care for someone, only to find that person had betrayed you on the deepest levels? Whatever else Frank Lowery might have done, he had earned Sandburg's trust. That much had been evident on that nightmarish day when Simon and Jim had burst into Lowery's house to find the man about to inject something into a nearly unconscious Sandburg. The scene had pushed an already stressed-out Jim Ellison over the edge, and the detective had almost beat the man senseless with his bare hands. Only Sandburg's desperate pleas for his 'brother's' life had stayed Jim's hand. Simon suppressed a shiver at the memory of the young anthropologist, begging for his brother as Lowery was handcuffed and led away. There was a strong relationship there, no doubt about it, and Simon could only wonder what emotional scars Sandburg now carried because of it.

"What does his doctor say?" Simon asked.

Jim dragged a tired hand over his eyes as he answered. "That it's going to take time, that I have to be patient with Blair, that our concept of normal may have to be modified a bit. Nothing I hadn't figured out on my own."

"Take his advice, Jim," Simon suggested. "Be patient. The old Sandburg's in there somewhere, and when he feels safe enough, he'll come out." He stopped and sighed with exaggerated force. "And then we'll be wishing for this subdued Sandburg back."

* * * * *

Blair wandered idly around the loft, looking for something to occupy his time, if not his attention. He had been bored in the hospital, with nothing to look forward to but shrink visits and short visits from a select few friends. He had imagined that would change once he got home. Wrong! All that had changed was the scenery.

At least he didn't have Jim underfoot today. The detective had reluctantly headed for the station to get in a few hours of work. Blair had spent most of the morning convincing his roommate that he would still be here when Jim returned. No harm could befall Blair in a locked apartment. Jim had finally given in, mostly just to satisfy Blair, the young man knew. But it didn't matter, just as long as Jim had gone. And now, Blair was reveling in his new-found privacy. Privacy had been nonexistent in the hospital. A large window on one wall of Blair's room had served to keep the psychiatric personnel apprised of his every move. Here, with Jim finally gone, there were no eyes watching him, judging his decisions or responses. No one was waiting to analyze his every word or expression.

But there was nothing more to do here than there had been in the hospital. Blair dropped wearily onto the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. He grabbed the remote control and thumbed the television on. Ten minutes of scanning the channels only discouraged him further, and he flicked it back off again. No attention span, he scolded himself. An aftereffect of the drugs, Doganiero had assured Blair when he had complained of it. It would pass. Blair threw the remote at the far end of the couch in sudden irritation. It'll pass. He was sick of those words. It seemed to be all the shrink could say. No matter what complaint Blair came up with, Doganiero persisted with the litany. Blair had gotten to the point where he kept his complaints to himself. Why tell Doganiero when Blair already knew the answer?

Blair's eyes wandered to the clock. The day was barely started. There were hours yet to kill and no murder weapon in sight. He considered calling the university to discuss his return but decided against it. Jim had assured Blair that everything was taken care of in that department. Blair hadn't wanted to question that too closely. He was content to know that they would have a place for him when the new term started, even if that was entirely too far into the future. But sometimes Blair couldn't help his doubts. He tried to keep his fears at bay, but occasionally they slipped through the tenuously constructed dam. It was too much to hope that everything would eventually return to normal, despite Jim's assurances. Could Blair really return to his former existence as though the past few months had never occurred?

You're just tired, little brother. Why don't you take a nap?

Blair snapped his eyes tightly shut at the voice in his head. He couldn't allow himself to think of his brother. NO! Damn it! Frank Lowery was not his brother! He didn't have a brother. He had a mother, a few close friends, one best friend. But he did NOT have a brother!

Blair kept repeating the words until his racing pulse resumed a near-normal cadence. Would he ever reach a point where he could think of Frank without losing his grip on reality? God, when did things get so screwed up? If he could just work up some healthy anger toward Frank, maybe he could begin to deal with the problem. At least that's what the shrinks led him to believe. Blair had doubts about that.

How could he be angry at Frank? The man had been a brother to Blair in spite of the circumstances. Everyone was trying to convince Blair that the man was a monster, but they hadn't been there. They hadn't see the concern in Frank's eyes as he had cared for Blair. Blair had been sick, really sick, and Frank had been there for him.

Okay, so according to everyone, Frank had been the cause of that pain and the sickness that had 'killed' Blair in the first place. Blair knew that. Or, at least, his head knew that. It had been repeated to him everyday of his therapy, until Blair had found himself repeating it each morning to the mirror. But Blair hadn't found out yet how to make the words feel real. They were simply hollow repetitions, with no meaning. Blair had trusted Frank. Dammit! He had loved Frank. How could he pretend those feelings didn't exist? Why couldn't anyone tell him that?

Blair curled up on the couch, pulling a throw pillow tight against the ache in his chest.

That's it, little brother, Frank's voice soothed. Go ahead and sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up.

* * * * *

Jim let himself into the loft as quietly as he could. He had already determined from the slow steady breathing coming from inside that Blair was sleeping. A glance at the couch confirmed it. The young man was curled on his side, tightly clutching a pillow. Tight lines around Blair's eyes told Jim that it wasn't a dreamless sleep.

Jim tossed his keys onto the table and pulled his jacket off. What did the kid dream about? Jim knew that Blair occasionally had nightmares, but Jim was left to guess at the contents. Blair stubbornly refused to discuss them with the detective. Jim hoped his partner was at least mentioning them to Doctor Doganiero.

A whimper from the couch snapped Jim from his thoughts. He glanced over to see Blair moving restlessly in his sleep. The dream had obviously taken an unpleasant turn. Jim was debating the wisdom of waking his friend when Blair suddenly cried out. Jim was at his side before he realized he was moving. With a gentle shake, he called Blair's name.

The young man's eyes jerked open with a start but didn't immediately focus on anything. Jim felt the blood drain from his face as a single word escaped Blair's lips. "Frank?" There was such pleading and desperation in the voice that Jim was momentarily stunned. Before he could recover, Blair's eyes focused on Jim's face with violent results. He lashed out, knocking the detective off balance and to the floor. At the same time, Blair fell from the couch. He rolled to his knees and began backing away from Jim, terror in his expression.

Jim was startled. He recognized that Blair was still trapped in whatever dream he had been living when he woke up, but Jim couldn't help the twinge of pain that tightened his chest. Blair was afraid of him! Only Blair knew what that bastard, Lowery, had said to convince him that Jim was the enemy, but it was still at work. Jim felt helpless to fight this unseen danger. How could he get inside Blair's mind to erase the damage Lowery had left?

As Jim watched, Blair's eyes cleared, and the terror gave way to embarrassment, then shame. A minute more, and Jim felt safe enough to move. He stood and reached out a hand to help Blair from the floor. Blair looked absently at the offered hand. His expression reflected the conflict inside.

"Sorry," Blair said, his voice not much more than a whisper. He made no effort to move from the floor. Jim dropped his hand and sat on the edge of the couch, careful to keep his distance.

"You want to talk about it?" Please, Blair, let's talk about it. Don't shut me out again.

There was a long moment of silence. Jim was about to give up when Blair spoke. "I'm sorry, Jim. I was just confused for a minute. I'm really sorry, man."

"You don't have to apologize, Blair," Jim replied. "I shouldn't have startled you like that. You were having a nightmare." It was a statement, not a question, but Jim waited, hoping Blair would respond.

Blair swallowed hard, not meeting Jim's eyes. "Yeah..." He paused, regrouping. Jim held his breath. "I thought...when I woke up, I thought that I was back there. Then I saw you, and all I could think about..." He raised his eyes then to meet Jim's, and the detective saw apology there. "I saw you..." He couldn't seem to say the words.

"You saw me beating Lowery," Jim supplied, knowing even as he said it that it was true. Jim regretted his actions on that day. When he had seen Lowery about to inject Blair with God only knew what poison, Jim had lost control. He knew now that he would have killed Lowery with his bare hands if Blair had not stopped him. And now Jim regretted his actions, not what he had done, but that his loss of control had so terrified Blair.

"Yeah," Blair whispered. "I know it's irrational." He sounded like he was repeating someone else's words. There was no heart in them. "I'm trying, Jim. I want to get past this, honest to God, I do."

Jim sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands. Damn Lowery! "Blair, I know you're trying, but until you begin to see Lowery as the bastard he is, you aren't going to be able to deal with what he did to you."

Something flashed in Blair's eyes, something unreadable. "Frank is not evil, Jim." There was anger in the words. "He's sick."

Jim felt his own anger rising in response. "He killed you, Blair! When are you going to accept that? The man was poisoning you. If we hadn't found you when we did, you would be dead. Permanently this time."

Blair jumped to his feet. "You think I don't know that? I've got plenty of people reminding me, just in case I forget. I know what you're telling me, Jim. I know it." His voice dropped in both tone and volume. "I just can't accept it. I'm sorry, I'm trying." He sounded very small and lost suddenly.

Jim stood, wanting to reach out to his friend, but afraid of seeing the fear again. "I know you are, Chief. Look, we shouldn't even be discussing this. That's what Doganiero is for, right? Let's leave it to him." He turned away from Blair and headed for the kitchen. "Simon's coming by for supper. I'd better get something started."

"I'm sorry, man. I should have done that already. I didn't mean to sleep so long."

"Don't worry about it. You need your rest." Jim began pulling pots from the cabinets. Blair's sigh drew his attention. He could tell the young man wanted to say something, but instead Blair turned and headed down the hall for the bathroom. After a few minutes, Jim heard the shower come on.

* * * * *

Blair was dressing when he heard the knock on the front door, followed by muffled voices. He pulled his shirt on and headed into the other room. Simon was standing beside the table. "Hey, captain." Blair headed for the kitchen and began pulling dishes from a high cabinet, intending to set the table.

Jim caught Blair's arm and pushed the young man gently toward the living room. "I've got this covered, Chief. Why don't you go sit down and entertain Simon while I finish up?"

Blair shot him an annoyed look, which Jim ignored. It took all of Blair's willpower to bite back the angry response that leaped to mind. He couldn't face another argument today. If Jim wanted to treat him like a child, fine. That was Jim's problem. Blair turned and left, not noticing the frown on Simon's face.

Simon grabbed up a small box from the table and followed Sandburg to the couch. "I thought you might want these back," he said, handing the box to Blair.

Blair flashed a curious look at the captain and opened the box. "Oh, man, yeah." He pulled the stack of notebooks from the box. His journals on Jim...He remembered now asking Simon to take the notebooks. At the time, Blair had known he was dying, and he had wanted to be certain someone would know how to help Jim. Simon had been the logical choice. The only choice, really. "Thanks, Simon."

"You know, Sandburg, there's some pretty interesting stuff in there."

"Yeah?"

As the two men discussed the contents of the notebooks, Blair found his mood improving. Simon seemed genuinely interested in Blair's progress studying Jim's heightened senses. Blair was heartened to know that the older man was beginning to appreciate his role in the Sentinel's life. He felt some of his old enthusiasm seeping back as he explained the reasoning behind some of his observations. By the time the meal was ready, even Jim seemed relieved at the lessened tension.

Blair's mood plummeted again, however, as the meal progressed. Simon and Jim made an effort to include him in the conversation, keeping it to neutral topics. But it wasn't long before the two cops began discussing a case they had been working on for the past couple of months. Blair attempted to follow the conversation, but eventually gave up. He had been out of the loop for too long. He fought against the depression that was trying to ebb its way back into his emotions. He was tired of being depressed. It was made worse by knowing that he had no reason for the emotion. He had his life back, he was physically healthy, and he was well on his way to reclaiming some semblance of normalcy. The problem was that he was having trouble letting go of the past few months. He needed closure, some way of finalizing the nightmare so he could put it in its proper place in his memories.

"I need to see Frank." Blair didn't realize he had said that aloud until he looked up and saw Jim and Simon's twin expressions of stunned surprise. He instantly knew the depth of his mistake. He wanted the words back, but the harm was done.

Jim stood and wordlessly began to clear the table. Blair could see the anger in the detective's every move. Okay, just calmly explain your reasoning. He'll see your point.

"I need to see him, Jim," Blair began. "I want to--"

"No." The word, calmly spoken, was in direct contrast to the icy anger on Jim's face.

Blair glanced at Simon, then back at Jim. "Excuse me?"

"I said, no." Jim continued to clear the table, not meeting Blair's gaze. "You're not seeing Lowery."

"I wasn't asking permission, Jim." Blair's own anger was beginning to boil.

"You're not seeing Lowery." Jim's tone was final.

"It's not a good idea, Sandburg," Simon interjected.

"For me, or for you two?" Blair shot back. "I have to do this. I can't put this behind me until I do."

"Have you discussed this with your doctor?" Simon asked.

"There's no point," Jim answered before Blair could. "He's not going."

Blair stood up suddenly, his chair crashing to the floor. "Damn it, Jim, I'm not a child! You can't make my decisions for me. If I choose to see Frank, you can't stop me." He stormed angrily to his room, slamming the door loudly behind him.

* * * * *

Simon sighed deeply. "Well, that was pleasant."

Jim grabbed two beers from the refrigerator and sat back down at the table, sliding one of the bottles to Simon. The captain watched as Jim silently drained over half the bottle before speaking.

"He is not going to see that bastard!"

"You can't tell him what to do, Jim." Simon was rewarded with an icy glare. He continued, nonplused. "You should have at least listened to his reasoning."

"You can't tell me you agree with him?"

"Of course not, but you handled it all wrong." Simon took a deep breath. "Jim, you're smothering him with this mother hen thing you've got going. I've been here only a couple of hours, and I can see it's driving him crazy. You've got to let up."

Jim leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes briefly. "I can't help it, Simon," he finally admitted. "I'm worried about him. Lowery took him to hell, and the kid won't even admit it. Every time he so much as coughs, it sends me into a panic."

"That's understandable under the circumstances, but you can't let it drive a wedge between you. Give him a little breathing room and see if he doesn't respond. As for Lowery, when Sandburg's had time to think it over, he'll see it's not such a good idea."

"What if he doesn't?"

Simon smiled. "I have a few favors I can call in. He won't be allowed in to see Lowery."

Blair's bedroom door opened, and the young man came out. He had changed clothes. Without a glance at either man at the table, Blair grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.

Jim was immediately on his feet. "Where are you going?"

Blair turned an anger filled face to Jim. "Out! Unless of course you want to dictate all of my activities now."

"Blair..." Jim paused, and it was obvious he was struggling to keep his emotions under control. "You've been out of the hospital only a few days. You're still having residual problems from the drugs--"

"Depression, Jim, anxiety, attention deficit. These are not problems that will inhibit my ability to function in public." The words were filled more with frustration than anger. Blair took a deep breath. "Look, I'm not driving. Nikki's picking me up downstairs. And I'm not asking for your approval." With that he stormed out the door, slamming it so loudly Jim winced.

The detective made a move to follow him, but Simon stopped him. "Jim, let him go. He's a big boy. He'll be all right."

"Simon--"

"No, Jim, this time listen to me. You can't control him like this. He's a grown man, not an errant teenager. Short of locking him in his room, you can't keep him from going out."

Jim stared at the closed door. Finally he turned back to Simon and sighed defeat. "Do you ever get tired of being the voice of reason?"

Simon chuckled. "When it comes to you and Sandburg, it has to be a pretty loud voice." He waited until Jim was seated again, then said, "Just give him some time, Jim. Right now, he needs someone to talk to that isn't so close to the problem. At least, he picked someone with a good head on her shoulders." Simon had been impressed with Nikki Estes at their first meeting. Had it not been for the young woman's deductive reasoning, they might still be searching for Frank Lowery, and it would certainly be too late to save Sandburg. "He'll talk it out with her, and when he returns, he'll be in a better mood. Mark my words."

* * * * *

"I can't seem to talk to Jim at all anymore without blowing up," Blair admitted. "Everything he says set me off."

They were sitting in Nikki's car in the parking lot of a coffee shop. The plan had been to talk over coffee, but they had never made it out of the car. They had been sitting here almost an hour while Nikki patiently waited for Blair to get to the subject of his anger.

"You have a right to be upset about his over-protectiveness," Nikki pointed out. "But you have to try to see things from his point of view, Blair. He thought you were dead. Can you imagine what that must have been like for him?"

Blair leaned his head back against the car seat and closed his eyes. He had tried to avoid thinking about that anymore than he had to. Jim was pretty closed with his emotions, but Blair knew that the man must have taken it hard. He had seen how Jim had reacted when Danny Choi had died. Blair's 'death' must have hit the man at least as hard. And, of course, Blair had no trouble imagining how he would feel if something happened to Jim. In all his life, there had never been anyone he felt closer to than Jim, except for Naomi. Jim was family. If the Sentinel felt half as much for Blair, then...

"He hadn't touched my things," Blair said suddenly. "In my room, I mean. Everything was exactly the way I left it."

"You sound surprised," Nikki observed.

Blair shot her a look. "Well, yeah. I was gone for three months, Nikki. He had no reason to believe I would be coming back. Don't you think it's a little strange that he hadn't gotten around to getting rid of my things?"

"Everyone grieves differently, Blair. You can't fault Jim for putting off dealing with the things that reminded him of you."

"I'm not faulting him. It's just..." Blair sighed and looked out the window at the darkness for a minute. "I've been constantly on the move for most of my life, which has suited me just fine, but it's not exactly the kind of lifestyle that is conducive for long term friendship, if you know what I mean. Jim is my first 'real' friend. I mean, someone I can count on to be there for me, and someone I wanted to be there for in return. I trust Jim, and I don't give trust easily. This is all new for me. And it kind of scares me a little. I know that doesn't make much sense, but I can't help it."

"If it makes sense to you, then that's all that matters." Nikki touched his shoulder and waited until he turned back to face her. "Jim is concerned about you, Blair. It's how friends are with one another. Just give him a little time. Once he realizes you are all right, and that you're going to be around for a while, he'll ease off."

Blair smiled his thanks.

"As for seeing Frank," Nikki continued, "I have to admit, I don't think it's such a good idea myself."

Blair's smile faded. "I need to see him, Nikki. I don't expect you to understand. Everyone keeps telling me how evil Frank is, but my memories of him totally contradict that. He was a brother to me for three months. I can't reconcile my memories with the picture Jim paints for me. I thought if I could see him, talk to him, then maybe...I don't know, maybe I could see what Jim insists is there. Then I could start to put things in their proper place."

"You're hoping that you will see Frank for the monster he is."

Blair considered that for a moment. "Yeah, I think so. It would certainly make things a lot easier."

"What if you don't?"

"I don't know, but I'd be no worse off than I am now."

"Have you tried explaining it to Jim like that?"

Blair laughed at that. "I tried."

"What happened?"

"I barely got two words out before he put his foot down. You can't discuss things with Jim when he's like that."

"What about when he calms down?"

Blair thought for a moment. "He'll listen, but he won't change his mind."

"Look, Blair, why don't you give him some time? Let him get used to having you back for a while. It's been only a few days. He's just not ready to take chances right now. And to be honest, I'm not crazy about the idea, either."

A little time, is that all it would take? Blair had his doubts. He couldn't see Jim backing down on this one. The detective had been too adamant. But Nikki had a point. It was too soon to have thrown this at Jim. Blair hadn't meant to say anything. The thought had just slipped out unnoticed. Now the damage was done, and it was up to Blair to undo it, if he could.

Blair turned back to Nikki. "I don't know why I'm wasting my time and money on Doganiero. You're a whole lot easier to talk to, and advice is easier to take from a pretty face."

Nikki leaned over and kissed him. When she pulled back, she said, "Now that that's settled, let's have some coffee."

* * * * *

Blair knew before he reached for the door that Jim would be waiting on the other side of it. His hand hesitated over the knob. He wanted to turn and flee, maybe take a nice long walk. But it was pointless now. Jim would have heard him approaching, and if he left now, the detective was sure to follow.

Taking a deep bracing breath, Blair opened the door and entered the lion's den. Just as he had predicted, Jim was waiting on the couch. Oh, he was pretending to watch a movie, but Blair knew better. It was almost midnight, and Jim had to work tomorrow. At Blair's entrance, Jim looked up.

"Are you waiting up for me?" Blair couldn't stop the question, but he did manage to keep the accusation from his tone.

Jim looked like he was about to make an excuse -- no, Chief, just got really caught up in this movie -- but instead, he said, "I was worried."

"No reason to be." Blair pulled off his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this conversation, but maybe it would be best to get it over with. They would both probably sleep better. Before he could gather the courage to proceed, Jim spoke.

"I'm sorry, Chief. Not about what I said, but about how I handled it. I reacted without thinking."

Blair stood there looking at Jim for a moment, surprised. He had expected Jim to still be angry. His own carefully rehearsed apology was momentarily forgotten. What had Simon said to the detective to calm him down so completely? He would have to remember to thank the captain.

Blair moved into the living room, taking a seat on the other sofa. "Yeah, you did," he agreed. "But I didn't handle it much better."

Jim switched off the television. "I will never agree that it's a good idea for you to see Lowery, but I realize that it's not my decision to make. I'm not going to change my mind, Blair, but I'm willing to listen to your reasons for wanting this."

Blair continued to stare. "Okay, who are you, and what have you done with the real Jim Ellison?"

Jim laughed. "Is it so hard to believe that I can be made to see reason?"

"Well, yeah," Blair said with a grin. "You can be obstinate, opinionated, unyielding--"

"I get the idea, Sandburg," Jim interrupted with mock irritation. "So...do you want to try again?"

"What?"

"To explain your reasoning."

Blair considered it. "You said yourself, your mind is made up. What's the use?"

Jim sighed and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Sandburg, humor me, okay? Pretend you can change my mind, and make the attempt."

Blair stood and nonchalantly stretched. "No point, Jim. I spoke without thinking. I know better. It was just an idle thought."

Jim looked at him, unconvinced.

"I've reconsidered." Blair hoped Jim wouldn't push it.

To his relief, the older man smiled in thinly veiled triumph. "Nikki talked some sense into you, huh?"

Blair felt his hackles rising at the implications of the statement, but he forced the anger down. "Something like that," he hedged. "Look, I'm going to go crash. Catch you in the morning." He headed for his room. Once he was inside with the door closed firmly behind him, he allowed the emotions to surface. Let Jim think he had abandoned the idea of seeing Frank. Blair could play that game. He had had lots of practice making people believe he was going with the flow. It was easier than arguing. But Blair could be obstinate, too. He needed to see Frank. But it could wait a while. And if he handled it right, Jim didn't need to ever find out about it.

* * * * *

Jim was trying hard to avoid staring at his partner. Blair's excitement was infectious, though, and Jim found himself grinning broadly. Today was Blair's first day back to the station since...Jim didn't even try to complete the thought. A lot of the guys had been by the loft to visit, and Blair had been getting out more on his own, but Jim knew that this return marked a major milestone for the young man. In a few more weeks, when Blair returned to his job and studies at the university, everything would be completely back to normal. Even Blair's moods had improved. The residual effects of the drugs Lowery had fed Blair were becoming less noticeable with each passing day. Blair still got depressed occasionally, and his attention span could definitely use some improvement, but he wasn't nearly as nervous and withdrawn as he had been when he came home.

Jim had been trying very hard to follow the advice Simon had given him two weeks ago. Jim was giving Blair his space. He had backed off as best he could from his 'mothering', as Simon had put it. It hadn't been easy, but it seemed to be working. Blair appeared more relaxed and open. Twice, the young man had even discussed a nightmare with Jim. The older man viewed that as real progress. And Doctor Doganiero had cut Blair's therapy back to once a week. All in all, Jim was feeling very confident about the future.

"Hair-boy!" Brown's deep voice greeted them loudly as they stepped into the squad room. "Jim, why didn't you tell us, you sly dog?" He threw an accusing glare at Ellison. "Hey, everybody, Hair-boy's back!"

The reaction in the room was immediate -- and loud. It seemed everyone was talking at once. Jim backed away slightly and watched in pleased silence as the officers and detectives in the bullpen greeted the young anthropologist. After a few minutes, when it seemed that Blair was becoming overwhelmed, Jim rescued his partner, pulling him from the crowd and toward Simon's office. Jim was surprised to see the captain standing in the doorway, grinning broadly at the scene. Simon quickly replaced the expression with one of feigned irritation.

"If you two are through disrupting my department, get your butts in here, and let's get some police work done."

* * * * *

They're trying to brainwash me. The realization flooded Frank Lowery as he sat quietly in the stiff backed chair and listened to the droning of the doctor seated across from him. For weeks, Frank had answered their questions, taken their tests and let them fill his head with their nonsense. He was a doctor; they couldn't fool him. It won't work, because I know their game. He knew they were trying to make him believe his brother was dead. It seemed to be their only objective. Frank was on to them, though. And he was strong enough to withstand their methods.

But what about Bobby? Where was he? No one would tell Frank the truth about the kid. They kept insisting Frank's real brother was dead. Another part of their game. Bobby had been ill, Frank could remember that. He remembered with sickening clarity how his brother had cried out for him as the cops broke into their home and dragged Frank away. They hadn't even allowed Lowery to administer the medicines that would have alleviated Bobby's pain. His dreams replayed the scene every night in vivid detail: Bobby, too weak to even stand, crying out in confusion and desperation. All the kid had wanted was Frank, and Frank had not been allowed go to him.

What had happened to Bobby after Frank had been taken away? Where had they taken his brother? Were they playing the same mind games with Bobby? The kid's grip on reality had been tenuous to start with. Bobby's accident had left huge gaps in his memory that only Frank had been able to fill. What damage could have been done in the weeks since they had taken Bobby away? God only knew what lies they were feeding him, even now. A new surge of panic shot through Frank, but he kept his face carefully neutral as the doctor droned on. What if Bobby believed them? What if their brainwashing techniques were successful with Bobby? His brother had been so precariously balanced as it was, trying to get a handle on his nebulous past. It had taken Frank months to get the kid back to some semblance of a normal life, but Frank had been making progress. Progress that had probably been completely abraded by that lunatic, Ellison.

Frank's blood boiled at the thought of the crazed cop getting his hands on Bobby. He couldn't allow Ellison unchallenged access to Bobby. The detective had the authorities on his side. Somehow the psycho had convinced them that his crazy story of Bobby being in actuality Ellison's missing partner was the truth. Frank had been astounded at first at Ellison's power. Even the doctors in this hell-hole of a hospital had bought the lies. But on further reflection, it made a certain amount of perverted sense. Cops stood behind cops, no matter what, and Ellison had the whole Cascade police department behind him. With that kind of power, it would have been simple to press his side of the story on the staff here. These doctors were imbeciles anyhow. If the authorities wouldn't stop that lunatic, then Frank had to find a way.

Frank caught his breath as the thought came to him. He was the only one that saw through Ellison's game. Therefore, he was the only one that could stop Ellison. Frank knew he was Bobby's only hope. It was up to him to find a way out of this dungeon and to his brother. And if Bobby's sanity was already gone...Frank was his only hope to get it back.

* * * * *

Blair pulled his car to the curb in front of Nikki's house and cut the engine. Just don't look over there, he mentally commanded himself. Yet in spite of the dictate, he found his eyes drifting across the street to the house he had shared with Frank Lowery, the house he had thought of as home for three months. It was the first time he had been back here since that day. Even in the dark, Blair could tell the house was empty. Not surprising. It was probably tied up in some kind of legal battle.

Blair got out of the car and headed for Nikki's front door, resisting the urge to walk across the street for a closer look. He knew he was ready to confront the memories, but Nikki was waiting for him, and he was already late. He knocked softly on the door and was surprised that Koty didn't immediately begin barking. The dog must be out back, he decided. He was about to knock a second time when the door swung slowly open. Nikki stood in the opening. There was no smile of greeting, no warmth on her face, just a fleeting flash of fear in her eyes. Blair stepped forward in concern, but before he could speak, an arm came out from behind the door and grabbed him, pulling him into the room as the door was slammed shut. Blair spun around, and froze.

"Hello, Bobby," Frank Lowery said, smiling. "No hug for your brother?"

Blair's gaze shifted to Nikki and then back to Frank. Shock numbed him. Words evaded him, and he simply stared.

"Aren't you glad to see me, little brother?" Frank moved toward him, and Blair instinctively stepped back. Frank's gaze darkened. "It's true, isn't it? She told me, but I hoped that maybe she was exaggerating. They got to you, Bobby, didn't they? They made you believe their lies."

Blair searched frantically for his voice, but couldn't find it. How did Frank get here? Jim and Simon both had told him the man was locked up, getting the help he needed. Blair knew that was true because he had made inquiries in preparation for attempting to see Frank. Well, Sandburg, you wanted to see him...

"Blair, he really thinks you are Bobby," Nikki started.

Frank spun around to face her, his face a dark mask of rage. "Shut up! He's confused enough without your lies! Just leave him alone." He turned back to Blair, his gaze softening. "It's okay, Bobby. I know they've confused you with their lies, but I'm going to help you. That's why I'm here."

Blair finally found his voice. "How did you get out?"

Frank took another step toward him. "Did you think I wouldn't come as soon as I realized you needed me?"

Blair continued to retreat until his back touched the wall. "Frank..." He stopped, not knowing what to say. Frank was obviously delusional, but was he dangerous? From the corner of his vision, he saw Nikki edge toward the front door. If he could distract Frank long enough for her to escape and go for help... "Frank, it's all right. I'm okay. You shouldn't have--"

"No, Bobby," Frank interrupted loudly. "You aren't all right. They've corrupted your mind with their delusions. But I can help." He reached into his pocket and produced a syringe.

Blair quickly weighed his options as Frank stepped closer, pulling the cap from the syringe. Frank was a lot bigger than he was, and had the strength of his madness. And there was Nikki to consider. He couldn't take a chance that she would be hurt. It was probably just a sedative. Blair felt certain that Frank wouldn't hurt him as long as the man believed Blair was Bobby. He just needed to be sure that Nikki got away to get help.

"Frank, that's not necessary. I'm all right, really. They tried to trick me with their lies, but I caught on to their game. I was too smart for them." He saw the hesitation in Frank's eyes and continued quickly. "I knew you would be worried about me, Frank, but they wouldn't let me see you to tell you I was all right." Blair took a step sideways, away from Nikki and the door. What was she waiting for? Why didn't she just make a break for it? Blair tried to send her a message with his eyes, but she wasn't looking at him. She was staring in horror at the syringe in Frank's hand. Blair knew she was going to need a jolt from the spell Frank had cast. Without consciously realizing his intentions, Blair launched himself suddenly at Frank, grabbing at the hand that held the syringe. "Run, Nikki!" he shouted.

Fury contorted Frank's face. "You lied to me, Bobby! They have gotten to you." Frank threw Blair back into the wall with enough force to drive the air from his lungs. Blair doubled over, gasping for breath. He felt a sharp prick in his arm as the needle found its mark. Darkness descended almost immediately, and his knees buckled. He fell limply to the floor. He couldn't move, couldn't open his eyes. He could only lay there as consciousness slipped away, hoping Nikki had escaped. I'm sorry, Jim. I should have listened to you. You were right...

* * * * *

A telephone ringing in the middle of the night was never a good thing. Jim was instantly awake and on edge as he made his way down the stairs in the dark to answer it. A quick glance at the clock as he passed deepened his unease. No one would be calling at four a.m. unless it was bad news.

"Ellison."

"Jim, it's Simon. I've got some bad news."

Jim frowned. He would have liked to have been proven wrong this once. "What is it?"

"Lowery has escaped."

A hole opened up in Jim's chest and his heart and stomach both fell through. Oh God, Blair..."Blair's not here, Simon."

"What?! It's four in the morning, Jim. Where is he?"

"He went to Nikki's for dinner last night. I wasn't really expecting him to come home." Blair hadn't said as much, and now Jim wondered if he should have made that assumption. "I'll track him down and call you back." He raced up the stairs as he punched Nikki's number into the cordless phone. By the time he threw on his jeans and sweater, he knew no one was going to answer the phone. He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, switching to his cell phone and calling Simon back. Lowery had them. Jim knew it without a doubt. The son-of-a-bitch had won again.

* * * * *

Blair heard the hum of the engine before he was even aware that he was conscious. As his thoughts cleared, he realized he was in a car. He was sitting up, his head resting against the glass of the window. His hands were restrained behind the car seat, but not tightly enough to be much more than uncomfortable. The radio was playing softly, and beside him, he could hear Frank singing along. He opened his eyes a narrow slit and tried to take in as many details as he could. It was too dark outside to try to recognize where they were, but he was certain they were no longer in Cascade.

"You awake, little brother?"

The question startled Blair, and he turned his head to face Lowery.

"Sorry about the ropes, but I was afraid you would hurt yourself." Frank was dividing his attention between his driving and Blair. "I knew they had gotten to you, Bobby, but I had hoped you would still have some shred of your sanity left. Don't worry, though. I have everything under control. Big brother knows exactly what to do."

Blair struggled to sit up a little straighter. "Nikki...?" His mouth was too dry to make it a whole sentence.

"Don't you worry, little brother. Your girlfriend is just fine." He gestured toward the back seat with his head. "She's sleeping peacefully. I hadn't planned on bringing her with us, but I need to buy us some time. Ellison has her believing his lies, too. I couldn't take a chance on her tipping him off before we could make our getaway."

Blair tried to turn in the seat to see Nikki, but a wave of nausea washed over him. He groaned and closed his eyes, afraid he was going to throw up. He felt the car slow, then stop. Opening his eyes, he saw Frank adjusting a syringe. Panic replaced the sickness. "Frank, please don't..."

"Sorry, Bobby, it's for your own good."

Blair felt the needle at his arm again. This time he didn't fight the growing darkness when it came. Whatever Frank had in his twisted mind, Blair had a feeling he didn't want to be awake for it.

* * * * *

Though Jim broke every traffic regulation in Cascade, Simon and two squad cars were already at Nikki's house when Jim arrived. Blair's car was still sitting at the curb, but Nikki's Blazer was missing from the driveway.

Simon came out on the front porch as Jim approached. "There's no one here," the captain informed Jim grimly. "I have a forensics team on the way. We found her dog in the back of the house, drugged. I sent a couple of uniforms across the street to see if they could find anything at Lowery's old house."

Jim unclenched his jaw to demand, "How the hell could this happen, Simon? Why weren't we notified soon enough to stop him?"

"I'm not sure how Lowery escaped, Jim. There will be an investigation, for all the good it will do us now. As for notifying us, they did, but it was late by the time they called us. It bounced around downstairs until someone recognized it for what it was and gave me a call."

"What did you find inside?"

Simon sighed. "They never made it to supper. The food's still waiting on the stove. What time do you figure Sandburg got here?"

Jim pushed aside his panic to consider the question. "Around eight." Almost nine hours ago... "Lowery could be out of the state by now!"

"I've got an APB out on the three of them and the car. The state patrol has been informed, as well as all the border crossings. We'll find them, Jim."

"Before or after Lowery goes psycho and kills them?" Jim couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone.

"I've talked to Lowery's doctor, Jim. He assures me that Lowery will not harm Sandburg. He believes that Lowery is firmly entrenched in his delusion that Blair is his brother Bobby. The doctor thinks that Lowery is simply trying to 'rescue Bobby' from us."

That explanation did nothing to calm Jim's nerves. "Why take Nikki? If it's Blair Lowery is after, then why did he kidnap Nikki, too?"

"I don't know, Jim, but we'll find out." Simon pulled a cigar from his pocket and pointed toward the front door with it. "You want to take a look around before the forensics team gets here? You might be able to pick up on something."

Jim stepped into the house and forced aside his concerns and fears for his partner, trying to concentrate on the job at hand. He tried to imagine Blair's calm voice beside him, directing him in his search. Take a deep breath, and start with your sight. Jim obeyed the voice and pushed away his other senses. He took in the entire room twice, zooming in on every minute speck that could possibly hold a clue, but not finding anything substantial.

Switching to his sense of smell, he tried again. Close your eyes, and concentrate on each individual smell, eliminating them one by one, until you find the ones that don't belong. Blair's imagined voice led Jim through each step of the process. Jim readily identified the smells he expected to find -- dinner, Blair, Nikki, the dog, various household cleaners. When each had been distinguished and eliminated, he began on the ones that were left. There was a faint odor of antiseptic, one that Jim quickly identified as a hospital smell. Lowery...It had to be. Jim set it aside and continued. There was one more smell that he couldn't recognize. Jim opened his eyes and followed the odor with his sight. It was coming from under the couch. Jim dropped to his knees and felt along the edge of the couch. His fingers brushed against something cold. He stood and pushed the piece of furniture back a few inches revealing an empty syringe. Dread worked its icy fingers up his spine as he zoomed in on the small spot of red on the end of the needle.

"Jim! Snap out of it!" Simon's voice broke through Jim's trance.

"That's Blair's blood, Simon." There was no way he should know that, but he did.

Simon carefully picked up the syringe with his handkerchief. He stood as two uniformed officers entered the front door.

"There's a broken window on the back door of the Lowery house," the older of the two said. "Looks like that's how he got in."

Simon nodded and handed the syringe to the man. "Wait here for forensics, and see that they get that." He turned to Jim. "You want to check it out? You might find something."

Jim shook his head. "There's no point. I know what happened here. What I need to know is where that bastard took them. I need to talk to Lowery's doctor." He turned and began walking toward his truck.

"Jim, wait." Simon hurried after his friend. "It's five in the morning."

Jim turned, and Simon caught the full impact of the anger on his detective's face. He was suddenly very glad he wasn't a certain psychiatrist. "That's just too damned bad, isn't it, sir? Because I intend to find out what the hell happened to my partner."

* * * * *

Frank adjusted the ropes on Bobby's wrists, making sure they weren't tight enough to rub the skin or cause any pain. He felt like a heel for tying his brother up like this, but it was obvious that Ellison had worked his evil on the boy. Frank couldn't take any chances on Bobby getting loose in this state and hurting himself. He had to keep his brother here until he could undo the damage that had been done.

Frank straightened and looked around. He was lucky he had remembered this place. It was perfect for their needs. It was an old hunting cabin, owned by a former colleague of Frank's. More than a colleague, actually. The man had once been a close friend, before Frank had given up his medical practice to take care of Bobby. The cabin was well stocked, with plenty of both firewood and supplies. At this time of year, it was doubtful anyone would be coming around. They should have all the privacy they needed to complete their mission.

A soft groan from the other room drew Frank's attention. Throwing one last look at his sleeping brother, he stepped out of the small bedroom into the large outer room. The girl was beginning to wake up. Frank still had no idea what he was going to do with her, but he wasn't going to allow her to interfere with his plans. As he approached where she lay on a cot beside the fireplace, she opened her eyes. Confusion flashed there briefly, replaced immediately by fear as she caught sight of Frank bending over her.

"Good," Frank said. "It's about time you woke up." He reached down to check the ropes on her wrists, frowning as she flinched away from him. "I'm not going to hurt you, Miss Estes. I regret the necessity of the restraints, but I cannot allow you to interfere."

"Where's Blair?" She sounded as scared as she looked.

Frank fought down his anger at the name she chose to use. After all, it wasn't this girl's fault she had been duped by Ellison. Even Bobby had succumbed to the man's evil influence. "Bobby is fine," Frank answered, emphasizing the name. "He's sleeping in the next room."

Nikki's eyes moved to the doorway behind Frank. "What are you going to do with us?"

"I am simply reclaiming my brother. Ellison has corrupted and perverted the boy's mind with his delusions. It may take me some time, but I can repair the damage and restore Bobby's sanity. As for you..." Frank fixed her with an icy glare. "I haven't decided yet what I'll do with you. It's obvious that Bobby cares for you, so that may make you useful." Frank stood and turned to the small kitchen area. "Are you hungry, Miss Estes? I could fix us some breakfast. I'm afraid Bobby will sleep for a while yet, so there's really no point waiting for him."

Without waiting for an answer, Frank began rooting through the cupboards. A nice hot meal, and they would all feel better.

* * * * *

Blair rolled his head to the side, convinced he was going to be sick, but not having the strength to sit up. After a minute, the urge passed and he relaxed back against the pillow. He tried to swallow, but his throat was painfully dry. Consciousness was not a good thing, he decided. His head hurt, his arms hurt, his throat hurt, and his stomach was threatening to expel its contents. Maybe it wasn't too late to reclaim the darkness...

"Bobby?"

The voice was soft, but it served to anchor him to this reality despite his efforts to ignore it. Giving up, Blair opened his eyes and, with an effort, focused on the face above him. "Frank?" That couldn't be right. Frank was gone. Someone had taken him away.

"Yeah, little brother. It's time for you to wake up. You slept through both breakfast and lunch. You need to eat something to keep up your strength."

Blair tried to get his arms under him to push himself up, but they wouldn't move. In panic, he turned his head and saw that his wrists were tied to the posts of the bed.

"It's all right, Bobby. Just relax. I'm sorry about that, really I am, but I can't take any chances until I know how much damage was done by Ellison."

Blair stared at Frank in horror as memory rushed back. "Oh, God!"

"See? That's what I mean. Ellison's got your head so twisted up, you don't know the truth from lies anymore. But don't worry about it, Bobby. I know what to do. I'm going to help you find the truth again."

Frank left the room. Blair looked around desperately, trying to find anything that could help him. The small room was bare except for the bed he was laying on. There was a closed window on one wall and the door Frank had gone through across from it. Blair looked up at the ropes holding his wrists to the posts. They weren't very tight; maybe he could work them loose.

Before he could attempt it, Frank returned, carrying a tray. He set the tray on the floor beside the bed and helped Blair sit up, pulling the pillows behind his back to support him. Blair forced himself to remain calm. Frank wouldn't hurt him, he was certain of that. It was just a matter of waiting for Jim. The detective would find him. Even as he thought it, Blair's hopes sank. Nikki hadn't gotten away. Jim had no idea where they were or where to even look for them. How would Jim find them?

"Frank," Blair tried to keep his tone level. "Is Nikki all right?"

Lowery sat on the edge of the bed and balanced the tray on his lap. "Your girlfriend's fine, Bobby. She's in the other room. We've been having the most interesting conversations while we waited for you to wake up. She's actually a very smart girl, little brother, did you know that?" Frank began to spoon soup into Blair's mouth. Blair thought about resisting, but only briefly. He was hungry. He had missed supper last night and, according to Frank, breakfast and lunch today.

"Where are we?" Blair asked between bites.

"It's a cabin that belongs to someone I used to work with. We'll have lots of privacy here, little brother. No one will disturb us."

The words chilled Blair. Privacy for what? He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I know you're confused right now, Bobby," Frank continued as he fed Blair the soup. "Just give me a little time, and I can straighten it out for you. You've been off of your medication for too long. That's part of the problem, but don't worry. That's easily remedied."

Blair's throat tightened suddenly, making him choke on the soup. Frank set the tray down and held him forward until he finished coughing. Blair clearly remembered the 'medications' Frank had been giving him--the medications that had robbed him of his memories. He remembered in vivid detail the pain and sickness the drugs had caused. There was no way he could go through that again.

Frank picked up the bowl and began spooning the warm liquid again, but Blair had lost his appetite. He turned his head, refusing the food.

"Maybe later," Frank said. He carried the tray from the room, returning almost instantly. It wasn't until he reached the side of the bed that Blair saw the syringe. He began struggling against the ropes. "Frank, please..." He had to find a way to reason with the man. "Frank, don't do this. Please..."

"It's for your own good, Bobby. You'll see that in the long run, I promise." He held Blair's arm still, driving the needle in and forcing the liquid into the vein. "You'll see."

* * * * *

Nikki struggled against her own ropes as she heard Blair pleading with Frank. It was useless, but she had to try. She knew what Lowery was administering. The man had outlined his plans in detail while waiting for Blair to awaken. Nikki had been sickened by the man's warped concept of reality and his conviction that he could make Blair see the 'truth'. The most frightening part of all was the knowledge that Frank could succeed. He had done it once, twisting Blair's mind with the drugs until the young man had lost all awareness of his own identity. Frank could very well do it again, and there was nothing Nikki could do to stop it.

She gave up her struggle as Frank came back into the room. He didn't even glance in her direction, but began straightening the mess around the kitchen area. Nikki watched in silence until a low moan from the bedroom chilled her blood. She spoke without thinking. "You're insane."

Frank's shoulders tensed, but he continued with his work as though he hadn't heard her.

"He's not Bobby, and no matter how much poison you pump in him, he never will be. You're living an illusion. The real Bobby Lowery is dead! Killing Blair is not going to bring your brother back."

The steel in the gaze Frank turned on her stopped the flow of words. For a moment, Nikki was frightened. Frank had assured her several times that he had no plans to hurt her. But Nikki thought she might have pushed him too far this time. You have a really big mouth, Nikki Estes, she chided herself. When are you going to think before speaking?

"I'm trying very hard to be patient with you, Miss Estes. I realize that you are a victim, almost as much as my brother, but I would suggest that you gain some control over your tongue before I forget that." With one more icy look, he turned his back to her.

Way to go, Nikki, she congratulated herself sarcastically. If you've nothing better to do today, why don't you see if you can piss off a crazy lunatic, and see if you can get him to kill you? She watched Frank in tense silence until she was sure he had forgotten her. With a suppressed sigh, she relaxed back onto the cot.

* * * * *

Jim was back at the station before the sun had even begun its climb up the horizon. Simon had ordered him home late last night, and Jim had reluctantly obeyed. But just as he had predicted, it was pointless. He had been unable to even rest, much less sleep. He couldn't get his mind to let go of the case. Not a case! he mentally shouted at himself. This is Blair's life we're dealing with here. There were no guarantees that Lowery wouldn't kill Blair--hadn't already killed Blair--in spite of what the man's shrink had insisted.

Jim had interviewed the state psychiatrist assigned to Lowery's case yesterday morning and again yesterday afternoon. The skinny little man had adamantly insisted that Lowery was not a danger to Blair or Nikki Estes. He believed that Lowery no longer had the ability to differentiate between reality and the fantasy he had created. Frank believed his own lies. The doctor had thrown out long, impressive sounding words to explain the delusions, but Jim had not even tried to pay attention. No doubt, had Blair been there, the young man could have translated what the doc was saying into simple enough terms that even a class of first graders could have understood it. But had Blair been there, it wouldn't have mattered. All that mattered now was that the psychiatrist had been unable to offer any help in locating Lowery.

The bull pen was nearly empty when Jim arrived. He made his way across the room to his desk. Half-way there, he stopped, noticing soft voices coming from Simon's office. He detoured in that direction. Pushing open the door without knocking, Jim was surprised to see Simon, Brown, and Carl Weathers. The three men looked as though they hadn't slept in days, and Jim would almost swear they were wearing the same clothes they had had on when he had left last night.

Simon looked up, startled. "I thought I told you to get some sleep!"

Jim moved into the room and took a seat in an empty chair in front of the desk. "No, you ordered me to go home. I did. I don't remember you saying anything about sleep. But I think it's safe to say I got as much as you guys."

The door opened again, and Joel Taggert entered the room, loaded down with carry-out bags. "Breakfast!" He stopped when he caught sight of Jim. "Ellison, I thought you went home to get some sleep?"

"Yeah? Well, I thought you did, too," Jim returned with a smile. Turning back to Simon, he asked, "Anything new?"

Simon stood and turned to the full coffee pot, shaking his head. As he poured coffee for everyone present, he explained what the men were working on. "We've put together a list of everyone that Lowery has had public contact with since he came out of diapers, as well as every spot in this hemisphere where he's taken a vacation or business trip. Both lists are pretty extensive. Until he gave up his practice two years ago, he was well-known, well-liked, and socially very active. We've spent the past four hours narrowing it down to the most likely candidates on both lists. What we're looking for is a place where he could lay low and not be noticed. It can't be easy to keep two prisoners hidden. Lowery would need a secluded location." He handed Jim a cup of the coffee.

"He's had a thirty hour or more lead," Jim pointed out bitterly. "He could be half-way across the country by now."

"I don't think so," Simon argued. "Every police unit in the state has a description of the car and the three of them. They would have been spotted if they had stayed on the road for long. Lowery's not stupid, he would have known that. I think he would have looked for a place close by to lay low until he feels it's safe to move again."

"I'm thinking maybe a cabin somewhere in the woods," Carl said, opening the bags Joel had brought in and handing out the food. "Nice and private. Not too much hunting going on this time of year."

"Or maybe a boat," Joel added. "They could work their way up the coast almost unnoticed."

Simon sat back down and pulled the file folder to him. "As soon as it's daylight, we'll start on this list. We narrowed it down a good bit, but it's still going to take some manpower." He looked up at Jim and smiled tiredly. "Luckily, that won't be a problem."

* * * * *

Nikki jerked awake the instant the hand covered her mouth. Her eyes opened wide in terror. It was too dark in the cabin to see, but she could hear the soft snoring that she had come to associate with Frank Lowery coming from the small bedroom. The man had been sleeping on the floor in that room to keep an eye on 'his brother' and was obviously still sleeping. Then who was this with their hand over her mouth? Her eyes searched frantically in the dark.

"Nikki," Blair's voice whispered in her ear.

She instantly relaxed, and he removed his hand.

"Come on, we're getting out of here," he continued.

She felt the cold touch of metal at her wrists and the ropes fell away. She rubbed her hands together to restore circulation while Blair cut the ropes on her ankles.

"Do you know where he put the keys to your car?" Blair asked softly.

"In his pocket," Nikki whispered back.

"Damn...We'll have to try to hot wire it." He pulled her to her feet and toward the door.

Blair worked the door open slowly, afraid of making a noise. The snoring in the next room continued undisturbed. Once they were outside in the cold night air with the door closed behind them, they both breathed a sigh of relief. Blair hurried to the car, cursing violently upon finding the doors locked.

"What kind of idiot would lock the doors in the middle of the wilderness?" Nikki wondered aloud.

"A paranoid idiot," Blair answered. "We can't get in without waking Frank. But we can make it harder for him to follow us." He produced the pocketknife he had used to cut Nikki's ropes and knelt beside the car. "Sorry about this, Nikki," he mumbled as he punctured the tire. Moving around the vehicle, he slashed each of the tires in turn, then faced Nikki in the dim moonlight. "We only have a few hours until daybreak. We have to put as much distance between us and Frank as we can before he notices we're gone. Our best bet is to follow the road out of here. It has to run into a highway somewhere. Are you up to it?"

"I'm fine," Nikki replied. "But what about you?" Even in the pallid light from the half-moon, she could see that Blair was pale. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his face despite the near freezing temperature of the early morning.

"It beats the alternatives," he said simply.

Nikki couldn't argue with that. Blair took her hand and began moving swiftly through the darkness. The road turned out to be not much more than a wide path. Barely an hour into their trek, Blair's pace began to slow dramatically, and he began to stumble. Nikki surreptitiously took over the lead. By the time the sky had begun to lighten in the east, she realized Blair was struggling to stay on his feet and keep moving.

"Let's take a break," Nikki suggested.

Blair didn't seem to hear her at first. It was a full minute before the words seemed to register, and he stopped. "Just for a minute," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Frank will be on our trail by now."

Nikki dropped to the middle of the path. Blair lowered himself gingerly beside her.

"He'll know which way we came," Blair said tiredly. "And he'll be able to move faster than we can. Maybe we should move off of the path. If we stick to the same general direction, we should still come to the highway."

Nikki nodded silently. She was watching Blair worriedly. He was in worse shape than she had realized. He was more tired than he should be after only a couple of hours of walking, and, though he was still sweating, he was noticeably shivering. Neither of them was dressed warmly, but Blair seemed to be affected more by the cold morning temperatures than she was.

Blair glanced over and caught her watching him. "I'm all right," he assured her.

"Can you say that with a little more conviction?" She reached up to lay her hand on his forehead, but he pulled away. "Blair--"

"I'm all right," he repeated. He glanced up at the gathering clouds. "I think we're in for some rain. We should get moving." He climbed slowly to his feet, swaying for a minute before reaching a hand down to help her up.

Nikki took the hand, gasping when she saw the bloody ring of torn flesh around his wrist. "Blair!" Nikki had not even stopped to wonder how he had gotten loose back at the cabin. Blair pulled his hand back, ignoring her reaction and heading into the woods, away from the path. After a minute, Nikki followed.

* * * * *

They continued on relentlessly until the darkening sky decided to release its fury. By the time they could find shelter beneath a thick canopy of trees, they were both drenched and shivering. They dropped to the ground in the driest spot they could find. Blair leaned his back against a tree and drew his knees up to his chin, resting his head on them. He was so tired. It would feel so wonderful to just lay down for a few minutes and sleep -- even in the cold rain. Without meaning to, he closed his eyes. Within seconds, he was dozing lightly. A soft touch on his forehead startled him awake. He jerked his head up, expecting to see Frank standing over him.

"Sorry," Nikki apologized. "I didn't mean to startle you. Blair, you have a fever--"

"I'm fine," he insisted, turning away from her concerned gaze. He hoped she couldn't see the lie in his eyes. He was sick, and he knew it. His head was pounding unmercifully, and his stomach was cramping painfully. Each step had been an agony unto itself, but he knew the danger of stopping. If they could stay away from Frank long enough for the drug to work its way through his system, Blair knew he would be all right.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. It would be almost impossible to continue traveling in this storm, Blair realized, but maybe it would hinder Frank as well. The rain was falling heavier now, drenching them even in their partial shelter. "We need to find better shelter," Blair decided suddenly. He stumbled to his feet, swaying for a moment as darkness threatened. Nikki was beside him instantly, helping him to regain his balance. When his vision cleared, he ducked back into the rain.

For the better part of an hour they searched for shelter, continuing on in what they hoped was the general direction of the highway. At last they found a rocky overhang that held promise. By then the storm had broken full force. Lightning flashed all around, with thunder following almost instantly. The overhang was barely five feet off the ground, but deep enough to offer shelter. Blair crawled as far back as he could go, praying that another creature hadn't already claimed it. Nikki was right behind him.

With the breaking of the storm, the temperature had dropped dramatically. Blair was shivering uncontrollably, though he was certain it was from more than the cold. His head was pounding so hard now, he was having trouble thinking clearly. Twice in the past hour he had caught himself just short of asking Nikki where they were going. It's just the drugs, he told himself. He had lost track of the shots Frank had administered at the cabin, but he knew it had been more than a few. Maybe by the time Jim came to get him, he would feel better.

"Jim is coming, isn't he?" Blair looked over at Nikki as he asked the question. Why was she looking so strangely at him?

"Blair," she said slowly, "Jim doesn't know where we are. Don't you remember?"

Remember? Blair closed his eyes against a wave of nausea. He felt Nikki move closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Remember what?" he asked, opening his eyes.

"Frank abducted us from my house. Do you remember that?"

Did Nikki think he was stupid? Of course, he remembered Frank coming to Nikki's house. They had talked, then...Things got sort of fuzzy after that. I'm just tired, and my head hurts so bad.

"Jim doesn't know where we are, Blair. He's not coming. It's up to us to get out of here and let him know about Frank."

Blair pulled himself away from Nikki, glaring at her. "Jim will be here!" he insisted. Of course, Jim will come. I'm in trouble, and Jim always comes when I'm in trouble. How could Nikki not know that? Another wave of nausea washed over him. He curled over on his side, clutching his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut.

Nikki was instantly beside him. "What is it, Blair? What's wrong?"

Blair bit his lip to suppress a moan. God, it hurt so bad! Why was the pain getting worse? Frank would know how to stop the pain. Where was he? "Frank...?"

* * * * *

The rain had given way to a cold mist that permeated even the crude shelter of the small cave. Nikki stirred, coming awake slowly. Her whole body felt cramped from sitting in one position too long. She longed to stretch out the kinks but was afraid of waking Blair. The young man was curled on his side, his head resting on her lap. His arms were still wrapped tightly around himself in an effort to ward off more than the cold. He had been in terrible pain, and Nikki had been at a loss to help him. It had been a relief when he had finally fallen asleep, and she was determined to let him sleep as long as possible. She knew they should be moving again, now that the rain had let up, but what could it hurt to stay here for a while longer? Blair was in no condition to travel, the heavy rain was sure to have washed away their tracks. How could Frank possibly find them as long as they remained still and quiet?

Even as Nikki made the decision to remain hidden, she realized they would have to leave this shelter eventually. Blair needed medical attention. The drug Lowery had injected into him should have begun working its way through his system. Instead, Blair seemed to be getting worse. The pain was increasing, and the young man was becoming more and more confused.

Nikki gently laid her hand on Blair's chest, feeling the racing of his heart even in sleep and the heat that radiated from him. The fever still burned. Blair stirred restlessly beneath her hand. His eyes fluttered and opened, but did not focus.

"Frank?"

A fist clutched painfully at Nikki's heart. "Shh, it's all right, Blair. Go back to sleep." She gently brushed back his hair from his face. He closed his eyes again, and she felt him relax.

"Where's Frank?" he asked without opening his eyes.

Nikki hesitated. She wasn't certain if he was calling for Frank or asking about their escape. She kept her answer vague, not wanting to upset him if he were still confused. "Frank's not here." She continued to stoke his forehead, trying to ease away the lines of pain that creased it. "We're safe here. Go back to sleep. I'll keep watch."

Blair nodded weakly. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"We're outside, Blair. Do you remember why?" Nikki was afraid of what his answer would be, but she needed to determine how lucid he was.

Blair was silent for a minute. "Someone is looking for us..."

Nikki breathed a small sigh of relief. "Right! We have to stay hidden. If he finds us, we'll be in trouble." She deliberately avoided mentioning Frank's name.

"Ellison...!" Blair's eyes shot open, and he struggled to sit up. "We have to get out of here. Where's Frank?"

"No, it's not Ellison. Blair listen to me. It's not Ellison."

Blair turned confused, pain-ridden eyes to face her.

"Blair, it's Frank that's chasing us. Try to remember." The confusion in his eyes deepened. Nikki hurried to add, "Frank came to my house, do you remember that? He forced us to come here with him. He's sick, Blair, and he doesn't know what he's doing." She stopped to see if anything was sinking in.

"Frank wouldn't hurt anyone," Blair protested, though his voice was unsure.

"He did, Blair! He hurt you! He injected you with a drug that made you sick. Please, try to remember. We escaped because Frank was hurting you. The drug he gave you is making you confused, but you can remember if you concentrate."

Blair closed his eyes tightly and rubbed at his temples. "I can't." His voice was strained. "It hurts too bad." He opened his eyes and looked at her. The expression on his face broke her heart. "God, Nikki, why can't I remember?"

"The drugs are making you confused and sick. That's why it hurts so bad. Frank gave you the drugs--"

"Frank wouldn't hurt me!" Blair insisted.

Nikki frowned and changed tactics. "He wasn't trying to hurt you, Blair. He thought he was helping you, but Frank is sick. He doesn't know what he's doing. He needs help."

"Frank is sick. I tried to tell Jim that, but he kept insisting that Frank was evil." Blair opened his eyes and she was relieved to see some signs of lucidity. His voice was stronger now. "We have to find Jim." He turned and crawled from under the overhang.

Nikki followed. Blair seemed more himself now, but Nikki was still concerned with his physical state. He stood doubled over, his hands resting on his knees as he surveyed the area.

He looked up, taking a moment to focus on Nikki. "Which way are we going?"

She pointed through the trees in what she hoped was the general direction they had been traveling. "Blair, maybe we should rest a little longer."

Blair straightened, swaying only slightly at the movement. "We have to find Jim. Frank needs help." He paused, turning his head away. Nikki almost missed his next words. "I need help."

* * * * *

Blair let Nikki lead the way. The pace she set was slow, but he still had trouble keeping up. Every tree root, every stick, every stone, seemed to be conspiring to trip him. He stumbled clumsily from tree to tree. At times, Nikki insisted they stop for a short break, and Blair knew it was for his benefit alone. Each time, he found it more difficult to force himself to continue. The only thing that kept him going was Nikki's constant reminders that Frank was right behind them. Blair wasn't sure why that frightened him, but he knew that they had to stay away from Frank.

The pain in his stomach had abated, or maybe it had simply been drowned out by the increasing pain in his head. Each time he stumbled, his vision dimmed, and he was afraid he would pass out. But each time, it passed, and he continued on. He lost track of where they were going, and occasionally asked Nikki. Her explanations gradually dwindled to three words...to find Jim. Blair wasn't sure anymore why that was important, but he was afraid to ask. Nikki kept looking at him in a way that was beginning to frighten him.

Blair stumbled again, and felt Nikki's hand on his arm, helping him to regain his balance. He swayed for a minute, until the bright spots in his vision faded, and the pain dropped back down to a tolerable level.

"Maybe we should take a break," Nikki suggested.

"No, I'm fine," Blair lied. "We have to find Jim."

Nikki gave him that look again, the one that scared him, but she didn't say anything. They had taken only a couple of steps when something grabbed at Blair's arm, pulling him off balance and to his knees. The sudden movement brought back the dizziness that threatened to send him into darkness. He fought against it, trying to see what had grabbed him. Before he could clear his vision, he heard Nikki scream.

"Leave him alone!"

"Shut up!" The voice was male, and Blair was vaguely aware of its familiarity. When his head stopped spinning, he would figure it out. The voice spoke again, closer this time and softer. "It's all right, Bobby. I'll help you." Gentle hands eased him down to the ground. Blair welcomed the stability those hands offered. After a minute, his vision cleared, and he focused on the man kneeling beside him.

"Frank...?" His voice sounded oddly distant to his ears. The effort it took to speak caused the pain to flare up again. "It hurts, Frank."

"I know. I can help." Frank reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a syringe. The sight of the needle scared Blair until he reminded himself that it offered relief from the pain.

From somewhere behind them, Blair heard Nikki scream again. "Leave him alone, you bastard!"

Blair felt a moment of panic when Frank left his side. Voices drifted to him, but he couldn't make out the words. He didn't care what they were saying, he only wanted Frank to return and make the pain stop. The pounding in his head had increased to an unbearable level, and his vision was beginning to dim again.

"Frank?" The call was weak, but the man must have heard it. He moved back into Blair's line of vision.

"It's okay, little brother. Frank's going to take care of everything now."

Blair felt the needle pierce his arm, then Frank lifting his shoulders from the ground to lay against him. "Just give it a few minutes, Bobby. It will take away the pain, I promise."

True to Frank's word, after a few minutes, Blair felt himself disconnect from the pain. An artificial perception of lightness began to take over. Blair welcomed it with relief. He opened his eyes, happy to see the world was finally standing still.

"What did I tell you?" Frank sounded very pleased. "You'll be fine now."

"What's wrong with me?"

"You can't stop these drugs cold like that, little brother. They have to be gradually tapered off. You were going through withdrawal. But it's okay now. I'll take care of you. As soon as you're rested, we'll head back to the cabin."

No, that wasn't right. Blair had been headed somewhere...to get someone. The thought nagged at him, but he couldn't pin it down.

"Frank, you can't do this to him." The voice came from behind him, but Blair couldn't turn to see its owner. "You'll kill him with your drugs."

"It's all right, Nikki," Blair assured the woman. His voice was stronger now. "I'm feeling better."

Nikki came into Blair's field of vision. "Blair, it's the drugs that are making you sick--"

"Shut up!" Frank yelled at her. "You've confused him enough with your lies." Frank grabbed Nikki's arm and roughly pulled her down beside them. "You're as deluded as Bobby right now. Maybe you need some medicine, too."

Blair pulled away from Frank. Fear for Nikki gave him strength. "Frank, you don't need her. Let her go. She can't do you any harm."

"She'll lead Ellison to us," Frank argued.

Jim...We have to find Jim. Ellison was not the enemy. Ellison was Jim, and Jim could help them. Nikki had to find Jim. "Frank let Nikki go, please. I'll go with you."

"No," Frank protested. "Ellison has her mind twisted with his lies. I have to help her."

Nikki twisted in Frank's grasp, her eyes filled with fear.

Blair edged closer, carefully placing his hand over Frank's on Nikki's arm. "Frank, let her go. She's no danger to us. We can be out of here before she can get Ellison up here."

Frank raised his eyes to meet Blair's. Blair forced his gaze to hold steady. Finally, Frank loosened his hold on Nikki, and she scrambled out of his reach.

"Get out of here," Frank ordered. "Go, before I change my mind."

Nikki hesitated, glancing at Blair.

"Go, Nikki," Blair said. He caught her gaze and held it, hoping she would read the message in his eyes. "I'll be all right. Frank will take care of me."

Nikki shook her head. "Blair--"

"No, Nikki, listen to me." Blair moved closer to her, putting himself between her and Frank. "Frank won't hurt me." Lowering his voice, hoping Frank wouldn't hear, he added, "Find Jim."

Understanding dawned in Nikki's eyes. She nodded and stood, backing toward the trees. With one last glance at Blair, she turned and ran into the woods.

Frank stood and reached a hand down to help Blair up. "If she follows the road down, she should come to the highway in another seven or eight miles. It doesn't give us much time." Frank caught the concerned look on Blair's face as he looked after Nikki. "She'll be all right, little brother."

Seven or eight miles...it shouldn't take Nikki long to make the highway. Hopefully, she could get help there. How long would it take Jim to get here? How far were they from Cascade?

Frank took his arm and started back toward the cabin. The movement was reawakening the pain and nausea, but at least the dizziness seemed to have abated. "What are we going to do, Frank?"

"We have to get out of here before your girlfriend finds Ellison. Thanks to your little adventure, Bobby," he frowned, "we can't use the car. We'll have to hike out of here."

They walked on in silence for a few moments. Then, Frank said, "If we can get to the river, I know a place where we can get a boat to take us down to the sound. We'll get a car there and cross over into Canada. We'll be safe there."

Blair stumbled, and Frank caught him, pulling him closer. "You're shivering. Damn, why didn't I think about that?" Frank pulled off his own jacket and draped it over Blair's shoulders. "We'll get you warmed up before we start out. And something hot to eat. Yeah, that'll make a world of difference, you'll see."

* * * * *

"Jim!"

Jim and Simon jerked their heads up at the tone in Carl's voice, as did half the rest of the bull pen. The burly detective approached Ellison's desk, excitement evident in everything from his pace to the huge grin on his face.

"Jim, we found her...we've found Nicole Estes!"

* * * * *

"They were trying to brainwash me, Bobby. They kept insisting you were dead. I think they forgot that I am a doctor, too. Maybe not a shrink, but I know enough to catch on to their games. Once I realized what they were up to, it was easy to outfox them."

Frank Lowery was not stupid. Blair could have told them that, if anyone would have listened to him. Their mistake had been in underestimating the man. A costly mistake, from Blair's point of view.

"What they were doing to me was bad enough," Frank continued. "I could only imagine what they were putting you through. I mean, you were sick already. I knew you wouldn't have the strength to withstand their brainwashing, and I was right."

Frank stepped over a fallen tree and reached a hand back to help Blair over it. The older man shook his head. "What I don't understand is how Ellison managed to get everyone so completely on his side. He has everyone believing his lies. The cops, I can understand. Cops stand behind one another, no matter what. But the doctors in the hospital...? How did he manage that?"

Blair stumbled, and Frank tightened his grip on his arm. "Take it easy, kid. I know you're tired, but we have to keep moving. It'll be dark soon, and I want to get a decent head start before your girlfriend is found." Frank pulled Blair closer, wrapping his arm around the young man's shoulder. "Just lean on me for a while. You know, little brother, I don't know what you see in that girl. She's pretty enough, but she's no raving beauty, and she can't be all that smart. Look how easily she was taken in by Ellison's lies."

Blair kept his rebuttal to himself. He had already decided that silence was his best defense with Frank. Everything he said seemed to antagonize the older man. Blair had seen the large hunting knife in Frank's pack, and while he was certain that Frank wouldn't hurt him, he didn't want to test that theory. He suddenly realized that they were no longer walking. He lifted his head to find Frank studying him intently.

"You don't look so good, Bobby. Maybe we should take a short break."

Blair dropped gratefully to the ground, barely managing to remain in a sitting position. It was so tempting to just curl up there in the cold, wet leaves and sleep for a few minutes. The pain in his head had remained at a manageable level, but the nausea had plagued him unmercifully since they had left the cabin. He hadn't been able to keep anything in his stomach.

"I'm worried about you, Bobby," Frank said, dropping his pack and sitting beside Blair. "I think you must have caught the flu or something. All this tramping through the wet woods isn't helping." Frank's eyes flashed darkly. "Something else we can blame Ellison for."

Ellison...that was Jim, Blair reminded his tired brain. Jim was not the enemy, he was a friend. Nikki had gone to get him. Had she found him yet? Blair had lost all track of time since he and Frank had left the cabin. How long had they been walking? Hours? Days? Blair let his head drop down to his chest. He was so tired. If he could just sleep for a few minutes, maybe his head would clear.

"Bobby!" Frank's voice startled Blair awake. "Stay with me, little brother. I know you're tired, but you can't sleep yet." Frank got to his feet and reached down to help Blair up. "Come on. We have to get some distance between us and that cabin."

The sudden movement made Blair's stomach roll, and he fell to his knees again, vomiting.

"Oh, Bobby," Frank soothed, holding him until the feeling passed. "I'm so sorry, kid." He helped Blair move away from the mess, then handed him the canteen. Blair took it with shaking hands.

"We'll stay here a little longer, Bobby. Go ahead, get some sleep while you can."

* * * * *

Simon shut off the cell phone and set it on the car seat beside him. "The doctors say she's fine. She's suffering from exposure, and she's a little shaken up, but other than that, she's okay."

Jim took his attention from the road long enough to glance at the captain. "What about Blair?"

"She gave the local police a general location of the cabin where Lowery was holding them. They're on their way there now. You want to meet them there?"

Jim was torn. He wanted to get to the cabin as quickly as possible, but he knew Lowery wasn't stupid. He would be long gone, with Blair. "No, I want to talk to Nikki myself."

Simon nodded. "I thought as much."

It was close to midnight when Jim and Simon reached the small hospital, but their badges got them in to see Nikki with no trouble. The young woman was awake and sitting up when they entered her room.

"Jim!" Tears spilled down her cheeks. "Thank God! Jim, you've got to find Blair. Frank still has him."

"Slow down, Nikki," Jim said, sitting on the side of the bed and resting his hand on her arm. "Start at the beginning."

The two cops listened in silence as Nikki described the abduction, from the time Lowery appeared at her home to his reappearance after their escape. Jim was audibly grinding his teeth as she described Blair's physical and mental state. "Blair was really sick. Frank said it was withdrawal. He may have been right, because Blair did seem more coherent after Frank gave him another shot." Nikki paused and looked up at Jim, desperation in her expression. "Frank's insane, Jim. Blair insisted that Frank wouldn't hurt him, but I'm not so sure. You have to find them."

* * * * *

"Samson Raintree," the big man said, extending his hand. "You two must be the cops from Cascade. I was told to expect you."

Simon introduced himself and Jim as he studied the head of the Search and Rescue team. Raintree was obviously Native American, with close cropped black hair and hawkish features set in mahogany-colored skin. The man couldn't be much more than thirty, but he exuded a calm confidence that set Simon at ease. "What do you have?"

Raintree sighed. "Very little, right now. There's a forensics team in there now." He nodded over his shoulder toward the cabin. "Looks like your guys headed out on foot. I've got a couple of teams on stand-by, but I'm trying to keep the movement down to a minimum. I don't want to wipe out whatever tracks there might be. We can't really do much until daylight." He glanced at his watch. "That'll be at least another couple of hours."

"I'm not giving them another two hour lead," Jim snapped, glaring at the man.

"Listen, Detective Ellison," Raintree said, returning Jim's steely gaze with an intensity of his own, "I was raised in these woods. I probably know them as well as any man living. Believe me when I tell you, you go running out there in the dark, not knowing what you're doing, and I'll have to bring in more teams to rescue you. Now, Frank Lowery has spent some time in the area, and he'll most likely have a definite goal in mind. We don't have the luxury of knowing what that might be. We're going to have to do this the right way the first time, or we'll just be running around in circles while Lowery and Sandburg vanish from the face of the earth."

Jim listened in cold silence. When Raintree was finished, he spoke, his voice as hard as his eyes. "You do what you have to. I'm going out there to look for my partner."

Shock registered briefly on Raintree's face, giving way to understanding. "Your partner?" He looked from Jim to Simon. "No one told me Sandburg was a cop."

"He's not," Simon said. "Technically, Sandburg's an observer, but he's also Jim's partner."

Raintree's expression softened as he turned back to Jim. "I guess that puts this in a whole new light." He paused for a minute, chewing his lip in thought. "Give me a few minutes to square things away here." He gestured toward a nearby jeep, the back hatch standing open to reveal loaded packs. "Gather us some gear."

"You're going with us?" Simon asked.

Raintree turned back, a grin on his face. "I told you, no one knows these woods like I do."

* * * * *

The sun had barely made its appearance when the drizzle started again. Jim pulled his jacket tighter against the chill. Raintree led the way, followed by Jim and Simon. The rear was brought up by Neil Rice, one of Raintree's men. Raintree was proving to be an excellent tracker, occasionally finding clues that even Jim had missed. Trusting in the man's abilities to follow the visual trail, Jim allowed himself to concentrate on his other senses.

Jim's feet moved automatically, his mind deep in its study of the sounds and smells around him. He started with sound. Using techniques Blair had taught him, Jim filtered out everything that belonged and was left with nothing beyond the sounds of the search teams. He moved on to smell, again filtering out the ones that were natural to the wet woods. Beneath the strong scent of decaying leaves, Jim picked up a subtle odor that he immediately recognized as Blair. Ignoring the temptation to dwell on the evidence of the living presence of his Guide, Jim pushed it away and reached out again. This time, he picked up the stronger smell that he had come to associate with Lowery. It was surprising, as strong as it was, that Blair's scent had reached Jim first. Or maybe not so surprising, Jim reasoned. Jim pushed Lowery's smell away, reaching out yet again, for...what? What else was there to find? The answer came almost immediately, almost sending him reeling. It was strong, nearby, and it was the unmistakable odor of sickness. Jim clamped down on his growing fear and explored the smell. There was no doubt it was Blair that had been sick.

Jim jumped at the hand that touched his arm. He realized that he had stopped walking and Simon was staring at him in concern. Raintree and Rice were studying the ground ahead, conferring in whispers.

Simon gripped Jim's arm a little tighter and keeping his voice low, asked, "Did you find something?"

"Blair," Jim whispered back, "or rather his smell. He was sick not far from here." He shook his head. "I was zoning out, Simon."

"Yeah, scared the hell out of me," Simon chuckled. "Good thing I read Sandburg's journals, huh?" He sobered, looking Jim in the eye. "Just try not to concentrate so hard next time, okay? I don't exactly have Sandburg's expertise here."

Raintree stood and walked closer, a grim look on his face. "This rain is washing away most of their tracks. It's going to make this more difficult. We're going to have to rely on educated guesswork from here on out."

"I can follow them," Jim said.

The Quapaw Indian turned skeptical eyes to the detective. "You are a tracker?"

"I picked up some special skills in the army," Jim explained. "We're wasting time my partner doesn't have."

Raintree hesitated a moment more, then gestured for Jim to take the lead. Jim took off at a rapid pace in the direction of the smell, followed closely by Simon and the other two men. It didn't take long to find the spot where Sandburg had thrown up. Raintree seemed surprised, but didn't say anything. Jim searched the area with all his senses, but found little. Confident that Simon could rouse him if he zoned again, Jim closed his eyes and searched for a trail of scent to follow. It was more difficult than before, but at last he found what he was looking for and set off.

Raintree exchanged looks with Simon. "What are they teaching in the army these days?"

* * * * *

Frank watched Bobby carefully from the corner of his eye as they walked. The kid wasn't looking too great. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, but their options had been limited. By now Ellison was certain to be on their trail. Frank wasn't really too worried about the detective finding them yet, though. The rain would make their trail nearly impossible to follow.

Bobby stumbled, falling to his knees despite Franks efforts to hold him erect.

"Please, Frank," Bobby rasped, "can we rest? Just for a minute."

Frank knelt beside his brother. "Sure, kid. We'll take five." He scanned the area quickly. "Let's move over there under those trees, though, okay? It'll be a little drier." He helped Bobby back to his feet, acutely aware of how hard the kid was shivering. After settling Bobby down in the driest spot he could find, Frank began searching for anything dry enough to burn. He needed to get the kid warmed up a little, maybe get something hot inside of him.

A few minutes of searching turned up some dry bark from the underside of a fallen tree. Frank collected as much as he could carry and went back to where he had left Bobby. The kid had curled up on the wet ground and appeared to be asleep. Frank coaxed the bit of bark into a small fire and went to check on his brother. Bobby's face was lined with pain and exhaustion. Frank unrolled one of the sleeping bags and covered the shivering form, then reached into his backpack, retrieving the vial of medicine and a syringe. He hesitated briefly. It had been only a few hours since Bobby's last dose. Maybe he should wait a little longer. But it seemed to be wearing off quicker each time. Bobby got better each time Frank gave him a shot, but it wasn't lasting long, leaving him sicker as it wore off. Maybe this stuff wasn't strong enough. Maybe he should increase the dosage.

Bobby moaned softly in his sleep. Frank quickly filled the syringe. Now was not the time to experiment. He pulled up Bobby's sleeve and injected the medicine. The kid roused, opening his eyes.

"It's okay, little brother," Frank soothed, pulling the blanket up tighter around the shivering shoulders. "I'm going to try to find some more dry wood to build up the fire. Then I'll see about fixing us something hot to eat. You just lay here and rest. I'll be right back."

Frank headed back toward the fallen tree, hoping he could find some branches on the underneath side that would be dry enough to burn. Bobby's sickness was really starting to worry Frank. He wasn't keeping anything in his stomach anymore, and the fever was getting worse. The kid wasn't going to get any better out here in the rain and cold. Frank had to get them somewhere dry and warm, soon.

Frank quickly considered his options. It was still another half-day to the river, maybe more at the rate they were moving. From there it would be a day's boat ride to the sound, another seven or eight hours to safe shelter. Could Bobby make that? For the first time, Frank was worried about the answer. The kid was really sick and getting sicker by the hour. He couldn't let anything happen to Bobby. Bobby was all he had.

The only other option was to return to the cabin. It was only a day behind them. Ellison would be there. Frank had no doubt about that. The psycho-cop would have half the state out looking for them by now. Frank shuddered at the thought of that bastard getting his hands on Bobby again. But if it meant the difference between Bobby living and dying...? Frank sank down to sit on the fallen tree, letting his head drop into his hands. Were these the only choices he had left? He could continue on, risking Bobby's life, or he could turn back, risking Bobby's sanity. Was it really a choice? His brother's life meant everything to Frank. Ellison wouldn't physically hurt the kid, not as long as he believed Bobby was Sandburg.

Frank stood slowly, his shoulders slumped in misery. He knew what he had to do...for Bobby's sake. He was startled from his thoughts by a scream of pain coming from where he had left his brother. He took off at a run.

Frank reached the small campsite...and froze.

* * * * *

Blair felt marginally better. He always did right after Frank gave him the shot, but it wouldn't last long, and when the sickness returned it would be worse than before. He had long since reached the point where all he could think about was the next shot and the relief it offered.

Rolling slowly to his side to stave off the vertigo that inevitably followed his movements, Blair carefully maneuvered to a sitting position. He clutched the sleeping bag tightly around him and edged closer to the small fire. It offered little warmth, but the proximity itself was enough to provide comfort.

Something moved nearby, and Blair's eyes slowly lifted, expecting to see Frank returning. Instead, his eyes looked directly into the yellow eyes of a giant cat. A cougar! It was crouched less than thirty feet away, studying him. Maybe it's not looking for a meal. Maybe it's just curious. Just be still, and it'll go away.

The cat's tail twitched slowly. Suddenly, Blair saw the shoulder muscles bunch, and there was no longer doubt of the animal's intentions. Before he could react, the cougar leaped for him. Claws tore at Blair, catching him across the left arm and chest. Anguish shot through the young man, and he screamed. He could feel the animal's hot breath against his face as the claws raked his chest again and again, tearing the skin.

Blair fought against the maddened creature, driven by the pain and desperation that gave him strength. His efforts had little effect. Suddenly, there was a wild cry from behind him and something dove into the cougar, driving it away from Blair. Blair rolled away instinctively, fighting to regain his breath around the agony in his arms and chest. He pushed himself up on his hands but fell back down in a cry of anguish. He was sobbing against the pain, and his vision was beginning to ebb.

Through the approaching darkness, Blair became aware of sounds behind him. He turned, his eyes widening in horror as he saw what had pulled the cat from him. Frank was struggling against the creature now, faring no better than Blair had. The animal was maddened in its bloodlust, clawing and biting the man that had replaced its intended meal. Blair could see the fight would not last much longer.

Desperation drove Blair to his knees. He searched the small clearing for anything he could use for a weapon. His eyes lit on Frank's backpack, and he dove anxiously for it. His bloody hands fumbled clumsily at the catch but managed to open it and find Frank's hunting knife.

Before he had time to consider his actions, Blair found himself on top of the cougar, stabbing viciously with the knife. The animal released its hold on the bloody man beneath its claws, turning its attention to the new threat. The cat knocked Blair to the ground, its teeth going for his throat. With his left hand, Blair grabbed the loose skin of its neck, fear-born strength holding it at bay while he plunged the knife again and again into its soft belly. A paw came up to claw at the hand holding its neck. Blair felt the skin on his forearm tear, but did not let go, knowing it would mean instant death. He continued to stab blindly at the animal, feeling the knife sink deep each time. The creature's struggles grew weaker. At last, it went limp, and Blair gave a frantic shove, sending it rolling away from him.

Blair lay still, gasping painfully in an attempt to fill his lungs. He turned his head slowly toward the cougar. It lay bloody and still, staring at him with an insane fury. Blair's breath caught, afraid it would rise again, but the creature gave a final shudder and died. Blair continued to lay there, uncertain he could rise even if he wanted to.

The ground around him was splattered with blood, and he wondered how much of it was his. As the adrenaline worked its way from his system, Blair became aware of his injuries. Pain washed over him in waves, and he began to shiver in earnest. Darkness began edging its way closer. Blair closed his eyes, welcoming the relief he knew was just moments away.

A soft moan from nearby brought Blair sharply back to full awareness. Who else was here? It took a moment for his pain filled brain to recall Frank's presence. Oh, God, Frank!

It took two tries before Blair could convince his body to roll to its side. The movement fogged his vision. When it had cleared, he saw that Frank was laying scarcely a few feet away. To Blair it seemed like miles. He braced himself against the pain and pushed against the ground until he was on his hands and knees. For a long moment, he stayed that way, wondering where he would find the strength to crawl to Frank. Another low moan from the man spurred Blair into motion. The gap closed slowly. He reached Frank and stopped, sickened by what he saw. He swallowed at the sight of the man's injuries, fighting renewed nausea. Frank's face was almost unrecognizable through the blood and raw flesh. His entire upper body had been clawed mercilessly. Skin hung in bloody strips.

There's so much blood, Blair cried silently. No one can lose that much blood and live. Help me, Jim...

Frank gave a violent shudder and opened sightless eyes to the sky. His mouth moved, but there was no sound. Blair forced himself to move closer, taking the man he had called brother into his arms. Frank cried out softly at the movement, but Blair persisted, cradling him to his own bloody chest.

"It's all right, Frank," Blair finally forced out. His voice broke on the lie, and he took a shuddering breath to calm it.

"Bobby..." The word was barely audible.

"Shh...don't try to talk," Blair soothed, his own pain forgotten.

The older man groaned softly, letting his eyes slide shut. Blair hugged him tighter, trying to impart some measure of comfort to the dying man.

"I'm...so sorry, Bobby." Frank somehow found the strength to speak. "I...only wanted...to help you...little brother."

"You did, Frank," Blair sobbed. "You saved my life, man."

"Bobby..." Frank's eyes opened again and sought Blair. "I wanted to...keep you safe...I never...wanted to hurt you."

"I know that." Blair fought to keep his voice under control, knowing he was failing. Tears flowed freely down his face, mixing with the softly falling rain. "I know you would never hurt me, Frank." Not intentionally.

Frank shuddered, his breath catching audibly. His eyes fluttered shut again, and his head lolled back limply in Blair's arms.

Blair shifted his arms to better support the man's head, ignoring the pain the movement caused. "Frank?" There was no answer, and Blair knew there would be none.

* * * * *

It would be dark soon. Jim scanned the gray sky, trying to determine how much time they had left. The rain had stopped a couple of hours ago, making their progress a little easier, but the approaching darkness would end it. They were running out of time, and Jim knew it.

Raintree had been impressed by Jim's ability to follow the trail despite a lack of visual clues, but the big Native American kept his comments to himself, for which Jim was grateful. The detective had no time now for explanations. He would worry about that after Blair was safely back in Cascade and Lowery was behind bars...or dead. Jim intended to do whatever was necessary to see that Blair was safe from the bastard. He would follow the book, no problem, but Jim was praying Lowery would resist arrest.

Jim stopped, aware that Simon had moved up close behind him, and scanned the area with all of his senses wide open. He was grateful for the captain's presence. Twice, he had pulled Jim from a near zone out. Blair would be impressed by Simon's acumen. Jim almost smiled.

Suddenly, he picked up a faint scent that he immediately recognized. His hands went cold, even as sweat broke out on his forehead. My God...! Jim closed his eyes and concentrated on the scent, drawing it closer. There was no mistake. It was blood, heavy, almost overwhelming in its magnitude. Jim swayed and steadying hands gripped his shoulders. He opened his eyes and met Simon's concerned gaze.

"What is it, Jim?"

"Blood," Jim answered, his voice low. It was more from shock than any thought of keeping Raintree or Rice from overhearing. "A lot of blood. My God, Simon--"

"Where?" Simon interrupted, trying to keep Jim on track.

Jim closed his eyes again, reaching his senses toward the scent. He forced himself to hold on to the smell in spite of the lurching of his stomach. Once he felt in control again, he allowed his hearing to follow the smell, searching for any indication of life. He found nothing at first, driving him to panic. At last, he detected a soft heartbeat...only one. God, let it be Blair. Jim opened his eyes and, piggy-backing his sight on both the scent and the sound, he determined the direction. Without a word to his companions, he took off at a run.

* * * * *

Blair's legs were long since numb, but he didn't care. He wished the rest of him would hurry up and follow suit. His arms, his chest burned with an agony he wouldn't have thought possible. Frank's bloody body had grown cold in Blair's grip, but he couldn't bring himself to let go.

There was a shout behind him. Blair heard it, knew it was his name being called, but he had no energy to respond. He continued to rock gently back and forth, cradling Frank's lifeless body to him. The motion aggravated his pain; still he rocked.

Dimly, he became aware of hands on his arms, prying Frank away from him. Blair tightened his grip. "NO! Don't touch him!" he shouted, though the words came out barely a whisper.

"It's all right," a voice soothed, a familiar voice. "We need to check you out, see how bad you're hurt." Strong hands continued to pry at his grip. Blair didn't have the strength to resist any more. "Let him take Frank, Blair. It's all right."

Frank's body was lifted away, but the hands remained. The voice continued to speak softly, words that meant nothing to Blair. Hands gently grasped his face, turning it. Blair blinked blindly at the face that refused to focus before him.

"Blair?"

The voice pulled at something deep inside of Blair. He stared at the face, willing it to clarify.

"Blair, it's me...Jim."

"Jim?" He had been looking for Jim, hadn't he?

The face broke into a smile. "Yeah, Chief, it's me."

"Jim...he...Frank's..." Blair stopped, unable to form the words.

"I know, Blair," Jim said gently. "Are you all right?"

Blair didn't register the question. He closed his eyes and felt tears slide silently down his face. He felt the hands move, pulling at his shirt. He pushed them away, but they returned.

"It's all right, Blair. We need to see how bad you're hurt."

Blair felt other hands on his arms, holding him still.

"Just relax, Sandburg."

Blair opened his eyes and blinked the dark face into focus. Simon...? Why was Simon here? Another face moved into view, and a strange voice spoke.

"You kill that cat, white man?" There was amusement in the tone, and something else Blair couldn't identify. "That's the biggest damned cougar I've ever seen in these woods. And believe me, I've seen my share."

Someone draped a blanket around Blair's shoulders. His energy was flagging rapidly, and he swayed slightly. The hands pulled him sideways, against something hard and warm, and arms wrapped around him. For the first time in an eternity, Blair felt safe. He relaxed into the arms and let his eyes close out the world.

"Go ahead and sleep, Chief. Everything's all right now."

So Blair gave in to the darkness.

* * * * *

Blair wasn't sleeping. Jim could tell by the rapidly beating pulse and irregular breathing. He stepped closer to the young man on the hospital bed, laying his hand gently on the thin shoulder, careful to avoid the multitude of bandages that swathed Blair's upper body. Blair blinked a couple of times, his eyes coming slowly into focus.

"How are you feeling, Chief?" Stupid question, Jim, he chastened himself. Beyond the dull glaze of heavy medications in Blair's eyes, Jim could detect the edge of pain.

"Been better," Blair muttered softly.

Jim nodded, understanding that the pain was more than just physical. "They're not going to let me stay long. I just wanted to let you know I was here." He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "Do you need anything?" Another stupid question. Going for a record here?

Blair turned red-rimmed eyes to meet Jim's. "Frank's...he's dead..." It wasn't a question.

Jim nodded again. "There was nothing we could do. He was gone before we got there." He watched his Guide carefully, gauging his reaction. Several emotions flashed across the expressive face, finally setting into a sad acceptance. Jim felt sympathy for his friend. Regardless of what Jim believed of Lowery, it was obvious that the man had managed to forge some bizarre bond with Blair.

"He saved my life," Blair said, tears forming in his eyes. "Whatever else he said or did, Jim, he loved me -- or the man he believed I was."

"I know that, partner," Jim said gently. Lowery was dead. He was no longer a threat to either of them. For Blair's sake, Jim could keep his opinions of the man to himself.

"How's Nikki?" Blair asked.

"She's fine," Jim answered, glad he could finally impart some good news. "They released her this morning, but she's been hanging around with us big, burly cop-types in the waiting room." He grinned down at Blair. "Ryf seems to be getting awfully cozy with her, Chief. You might just have a run for your money this time."

Blair attempted a smile, almost managing it. "I'm not worried. Nikki prefers the soft, cuddly intellectual-type over the big, burly cop-type."

Jim chuckled. "You may be right, junior, but you're damaging your reputation here. I mean, you'll never manage the big, burly part, but you're beginning to get the cop part down pat." He paused, waiting for Blair to meet his gaze. "I mean it, partner. I know I don't say it much. You know how I am with this emotional crap. But I want you to know I'm proud of the way you handle yourself in tough situations."

"Why is it I have to go five rounds with a wild cat to pull an honest compliment from you, Ellison? Next time, can we just sit quietly on the couch in the loft and have a normal discussion?"

Before Jim could answer, a nurse came into the room, a smile on her lined face. "Mr. Sandburg needs to rest now, detective."

Jim nodded, turning back to Blair. "I'll be close by, partner. You need me, you let someone know, you got that?"

Blair nodded, his eyes already beginning to slide shut.

Jim turned when he reached the door, giving one last look at his friend. Blair had already drifted into a light sleep. He looked very small and pale beneath the bandages. "Sleep well, Blair," Jim whispered and slipped from the room.

* * * * *

Epilogue:

"If you don't stop scratching, I'm going to make you wear gloves."

Blair glared up at his partner from the couch. "I can't help it, Jim. The damn things itch."

"It's a sign of healing. You pull out those stitches, and I'm taking your butt right back to the hospital," Jim warned.

Blair stopped scratching immediately, shoving his hands under his legs and earning a laugh from Jim.

"I thought that might get your attention."

"It's not funny," Blair protested. "I don't care if I ever see the inside of a hospital again."

Jim sat down across from Blair and reached for the remote, muting the television. He glanced at his partner for a long moment, content just to know that everything was at last beginning to fall back into its rightful place. Their lives had been through major upheavals in the past six months. There were times when Jim wondered if either of them would survive with their sanity intact. They still had their moments, especially where the subject of Frank Lowery was concerned, but it was behind them now, truly behind them, and Jim was convinced that Blair would finally be able to deal with the demons.

"You're staring again, man," Blair pointed out unnecessarily. "Come on, Jim, cut it out."

Jim grinned broadly. "You know, Chief, I may never let you out of my sight again."

"That could prove a little awkward on dates, Jim. I mean, I don't know how Nikki will react."

The doorbell rang, saving Jim from having to come up with a snappy return. He answered it, surprised to see Samson Raintree. The Quapaw had been to see Blair twice in the hospital. Both Sentinel and Guide had taken a liking to the man.

"Hi, Jim," Raintree greeted. "I hope I'm not intruding..."

"Not at all," Jim said stepping back. "Come on in."

"Hey, Blair. How are you feeling?"

"Itchy!" Blair complained.

Jim retrieved a couple of beers and handed one Raintree, ignoring the face Blair made at him as he passed. The young man's medications prohibited anything stronger than water.

"I have something for you, Blair," Raintree said, producing a small, flat box from his jacket pocket.

Blair looked at the gift in confusion.

Raintree handed over the box and watched as Blair carefully opened it. Blair's eyes widened in surprise.

"Among the Quapaw, it was once the custom for young hunters to take the claws from their first kill. It was said that they would gain the strength and courage of the creature by wearing them around their necks."

Blair pulled the rawhide necklace from the box and even Jim was astonished at the craftsmanship that had gone into its creation.

"Did you do this?" Blair asked.

"No," Samson said, holding up his hands. "My hands are too big for such delicate work. It was made by a Quapaw elder. He was very impressed by your kill." The man shook his head in wonder. "Biggest damned cat I ever saw. I never would have believed a city boy could have brought it down with just a knife."

Blair blushed at the compliment. "To tell you the truth, Samson, I don't really remember it at all."

Raintree clucked his tongue at Blair in mock disappointment. "You'll never impress the ladies with that story, Sandburg. I can see I'm going to have to teach you the fine art of embellishment."

Jim and Blair traded looks before busting out laughing.

Raintree looked from one to the other. "What did I say?"

* * * * *

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