Guilt was not one of my favorite emotions. It had a tendency to suck the pleasure out of what could have otherwise been an enjoyable experience. It was the night of one of the most important games of the year for the Jags, and short of actually having tickets to see it live, I could think of no better way to view the game than with a group of close friends. But guilt was sucking the joy from the moment.

In spite of the small, but very noisy crowd of men in the loft, the one person I would really have liked to share the game with was missing. And I knew it was my fault. When I reminded my roommate and partner this morning about the guys coming over for the game, I hadn't missed his disappointment. And when he'd explained that he was running behind on some work at the university and that he'd probably be there working for most of the night, I instantly knew why.

The case we were coming off of had been a nightmare from the start. We'd run in seemingly endless circles, searching desperately for clues that just weren't there. I'd had to rely on my enhanced senses more than normal on that case, which meant that I'd had to rely on my guide more than normal. Even with Sandburg there, I'd still zoned out four times in the course of the investigation. I don't know what I'd have done without him. I'm just glad I didn't have to find out.

What I didn't know until this morning was that he'd been forced to postpone his own work in order to back me up on the case. He'd never said a word, which didn't really surprise me. It's just the way he is. He knew I needed him, so he was there. No question, no complaining, no excuses.

So there we were, having a wonderful time watching what was turning out to be the game of the decade, and Sandburg was stuck in his office, trying to make up for lost time. Yeah, that was enough guilt to effectively put a damper on the whole evening for me. If I hadn't already invited the guys over, I would've grabbed the portable television from Sandburg's room and headed down to the university to watch the game with him. Don't think I wasn't tempted to do that anyhow. Most of the guys -- all except for Joel, who was designated driver -- had been drinking enough that I don't think they'd have even missed me. The only thing that stopped me was knowing that Sandburg wouldn't get much work done with me there yelling over the game.

Marbourg made a three point shot just then, and the noise level in the loft rose proportionately. Automatically, I dialed down my hearing a few more notches. All of my dials were pretty much as low as I could get them and still function, a result of letting myself go and having a few too many beers. That was something I didn't normally do -- the tendency to lose control of my senses was too great a risk -- but I figured even sentinels were entitled to a night off once in awhile. If Sandburg had been here, I probably wouldn't have had to be so careful. Control seemed to just come natural for me when I knew he was close by. It wasn't even something I had to consciously think about, it just...well, it just happened.

Echoing my thoughts, Simon suddenly said, "You know, Jim, it's kind of nice to imbibe freely, without Mother Sandburg hanging over me, nagging about how unhealthy it is."

I had to smile at that. Blair had a thing about drinking in excess. In fact, the kid had a thing about anything even remotely considered unhealthy. "Try living with the guy," I said. "He has a comment, no, make that a speech about every bite of food I put into my mouth. I honestly think the kid loses sleep over my eating habits."

"You know what the problem is, Jim?" Joel Taggart said, grinning widely. "You two are together too much. I mean, the kid lives with you and then follows you around on the job all day. You're just seeing way too much of one another."

"It's Sandburg overdose," Rafe commented from where he was sprawled across the end of the couch. From the looks of him, I figured it was time to cut off his beer supply. The younger detective was always the first to feel the effects of too many beers. Kids today, I mused, just couldn't hold their liquor.

The guys found Rafe's drunken statement amusing. For some reason, I didn't see the humor.

"Yeah," Simon laughed, "a little Sandburg goes a long way."

I knew the captain was only teasing, but I felt the need to respond anyway. "Oh, come on, Simon. Blair's not so bad...once you get used to him."

"Then why do you spend so much time in my office complaining? I'm thinking of changing the name on the door to Ann Landers."

I smiled in memory. The first few weeks after Blair moved in here, I made almost daily visits to Simon's office seeking advice. It'd been a difficult adjustment, learning to share my personal space with someone again, especially someone as...unique as Sandburg. But as I came to see how much I was depending on his help, on him, I'd determined to make it work. I'm sure the kid had faced just as daunting a challenge learning to live with me. We couldn't have been more dissimilar if we had tried. I smiled to myself as I realized how untrue that statement was now.

As though reading my thoughts, Joel said, "You mean it's not paradise around here? You two give the appearance of perfect harmony."

That was very close to the truth, close enough to make me uncomfortable. The conversation was turning too serious for a bunch of rowdy, half-drunk detectives. I had to lighten things up. "It will be, once I get him completely housebroken."

That did the trick. The room filled with laughter.

"It sounds like you're talking about a pet," Henri Brown chuckled. "Is that why you call him 'Chief'?"

"Well, that would explain the shedding problem." The hair had taken the longest to get used to. Having gone from a family of men straight into the military, I had never been around anyone with that much hair before, not even Carolyn. Finding long strands of it on everything in the loft had been one of my biggest complaints about having the kid around. Of course, if it wasn't for the sentinel vision, I probably wouldn't have even noticed.

"I have a Retriever that does the same thing," Rafe said. "And I'm still working on housebreaking him, too."

"Maybe you can recommend a good obedience school," suggested Simon. "Maybe they can teach the kid to follow a few basic commands."

"You mean like, 'Stay in the truck, Sandburg!'?" I had to grin as I said that. It would be nice if the kid could learn to follow orders. Not that I thought it would ever happen. He just wouldn't be Sandburg if he didn't argue with me over that one.

"Well, it looks like you have the heeling part down pat already," commented Henri.

Yeah, that's Sandburg, I thought, my own personal shadow. "No, what I really need to figure out is how to impart the fine art of silence. Sandburg can expound for hours on the most inconsequential matters." I stopped, suddenly realizing what I had just said. "That's not true," I quickly amended. "Not that Sandburg can't talk the ears off a jackrabbit, but it's not inconsequential. The kid really knows what he's talking about, and it's always important."

"Even if you don't understand it, huh, Jim?" Rafe laughed.

I grinned back. An accurate observation, which was surprising, considering how drunk Rafe was. There was no denying that Sandburg was a certified genius. I had no idea what his IQ actually was, but I was willing to bet it was more than the combined total of everyone in this room.

We turned our attention back to the game for awhile, our conversation consisting mostly of critiques of the players. Then suddenly, Simon said something that caught us all off guard.

"You know, Jim, there's one more trait that Sandburg has in common with a dog."

The way he said that made me uneasy. I was feeling kind of guilty already for talking about the kid behind his back, even though we had teased him about most of this to his face at one time or another. I opened my mouth, prepared to defend my partner, but was stopped by what the captain said next.

"His loyalty." Simon turned to meet my eyes, and I could see that he was deadly serious, despite the flush of alcohol to his face. "I've never seen a loyalty like the kid has for you. I think he would follow you barefoot into the pits of hell if you asked him to."

I just stared at Simon for several long minutes. The other guys were just as stunned, I think. It wasn't like Simon to make an observation like that about anyone, especially in front of an audience. I figured it was the effects of the alcohol.

I smiled at my captain, warmed by his words. "Gives new meaning to the phrase 'man's best friend', huh?"

By the time I managed to throw the guys out the door and clean the worst of the mess, it was after midnight. I was beginning to worry about Blair. Surely he couldn't be still working at this hour, could he? Even he needed a break occasionally. I think he sometimes forgot that. I wonder who'd reminded him when to eat and sleep before he met me.

I called his cell phone, letting it ring for a long time. I was just about to give up when he answered.

"Hello?" Exhaustion was evident in his voice.

"You planning on working all night, Chief?"

There was a slight pause. When he spoke again, I thought he sounded a bit distant. Probably trying to write while he talked. It never ceased to amaze me how the kid could manage to do several things at once.

"Actually, I probably am. I'm really running behind here. I should have called. Sorry."

"Come on, Sandburg, you've got to sleep sometime. Can't that stuff wait?"

"No, Jim, it can't!" There was no mistaking the anger in his voice. "This is my job, man. I have a responsibility to my students. I have commitments. I'll grab a few hours here." He hung up before the words had even stopped ringing in my head.

What in the hell...? What did I say? The wrong thing, obviously, though I wasn't sure just what that had been. He sounded really wiped. Maybe it was just his exhaustion talking.

I frowned as I switched off the lights and headed for the stairs to my room. I'd probably started out pissing him off by referring to his work as 'stuff'. He took what he did very seriously. I shouldn't have been so cavalier about it. I should've been more respectful, I guess. Usually that sort of thing didn't bother Sandburg, but I knew he was under a lot of pressure. He'd been working around the clock lately helping me out at the station, and I knew he'd let his school work slide as a result. If I hadn't been so wrapped up in the case, I might've seen it and cut him some slack. But I didn't, and now he was having to work overtime just to catch up. I felt like the worse kind of heel.

I'd been taking the kid for granted a lot lately, I realized. He didn't get paid to stick by me through the crap that came with my job. Most of the time, he barely got a thanks. I knew how much he put on the line for me. I was well aware of it. He sacrificed his time, energies, social life, sometimes his sanity, and on more than one occasion, almost his life, just to back me up. That was a hell of a lot to ask of anyone. And the kicker, the part I never would understand, was that I hadn't asked it of him. He'd given it freely, no questions asked, nothing expected in return, except for a chance to take a few notes, test a few theories. Yeah, I 'd definitely been taking the kid for granted. I was going to have to do something about that.

I tried calling Sandburg when I got to the station the next morning, but there was no answer, on his cell phone or in his office. I figured he had a class or meeting or something. I tried again a couple of times throughout the morning with no luck, then got tied up interviewing prospective witnesses on a murder case Homicide had asked for my help with. By the time I finished with that, it was late afternoon. I wasn't far from the university so I decided to skip going back to the station and check on my partner. If he was still working, he had to be beyond exhaustion by now. And knowing him, he had probably skipped lunch. The least I could do was take him to dinner. Besides, I owed him an apology.

Pulling up to the anthropology building, I spotted his car. At least he was still here. I got out of the truck and headed for the building, extending my hearing even as I walked. At first, I thought his office was empty; there was no muttering or music coming from the room. But concentrating further, I heard the scratch of a pen on paper and the soft beat of the familiar pulse. I smiled and unconsciously quickened my step.

His door was shut, so I knocked softly, surprised when his heartbeat quickened at the sound. I must have startled him. After a short pause, he called, "It's open."

I pushed the door open and stepped into his domain. I was always a little bit intimidated when I entered his office, though I would never have admitted it to anyone. It was a stark reminder to me of the differences in our worlds. He seemed so comfortable and relaxed at the station, that I sometimes forgot who and what he really was. He was Einstein, as far as I was concerned. A brilliant kid, an academic with a promising career that could make himself at home wherever he ended up. An amazing ability in my book.

He was hunched over his desk, a half-dozen open notebooks scattered around him, and was busy scribbling something at break-neck speed in one of them. He didn't look up right away, so I said, "Chief?"

A flash of something went across his face so quickly I couldn't define it, but he kept writing. Distractedly, he mumbled, "Hmm?"

He had an amazing ability to become totally absorbed in whatever he was working on at the moment. Sometimes, at the loft, I would watch him as he lost himself in his research at the kitchen table. It was fascinating entertainment. His face was an open book as he studied, graded, researched, and read.

Right now, his expression was blank, making me wonder what he was working on. I pulled a chair over to the desk. Of course, it was full of books. Every surface in the room was covered with something. I moved them to a nearby shelf and sat down.

"Almost through?" Not that it looked like he was anywhere close to finished, but I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Blair looked up, a slightly stunned expression on his face. "Huh?"

"Are you making headway on that stuff?" I hesitated for an instant, not sure how to broach the apology I wanted to make. "I gather from what you said last night, this is important. Deadline?"

Blair nodded, still looking at me.

"Anything I can help with?" A peace offering is always good, I reasoned.

Blair frowned at me for a minute before saying, "No, thanks. I'll get it." From his tone, I could tell he was still a bit pissed off with me.

I nodded. I hadn't really expected him to take me up on the offer. What could I possibly do to help? I knew next to nothing about most of his work. I looked down at the notebooks on the desk, trying to figure out the best way to make my apology. I think he knew I had something on my mind, because he continued to watch me. Finally, I looked back up and cleared my throat.

"Chief..."

Suddenly, Blair's pulse took a jump. I figured he knew where I was going with this. He set down his pen, his full attention on me.

"Chief," I began again, "about last night..." I hesitated, unsure exactly how I wanted to say this.

Blair dropped his eyes to the papers on his desk. I got the feeling he didn't want to discuss this, that his mind was already back on his work.

"I'm sorry, Sandburg. I didn't mean to sound like I take your job for granted. I know I come across that way sometimes, but that's never my intent. It's just that..." I struggled for words. This wasn't easy to say. I've never been one to talk about stuff like this. Finally, I decided on the simple truth. "Well, you've become so good at helping me at my job that I sometimes forget it's not your primary occupation. I...I forget you're not a cop, sometimes."

I guess, judging from the stunned expression on the kid's face, that particular comment was long overdue. I wasn't sure why I never took the time to say these things. I was raised to believe that actions spoke louder than words. I forgot sometimes that some people need the words. Sandburg seemed to especially need a little reassurance now and again. The kid's self esteem was practically nonexistent. I sometimes wondered if anyone had taken the time while he was growing up to explain to him that he was important, that he had something worthwhile to offer. Naomi seemed loving enough. I had no doubt she cared deeply for her son, but let's face it, the woman had some pretty strange ideas about life in general. In all the time I had known Sandburg, she had made an appearance only twice, and as far as I could tell, he only knew where she was about half the time. There had been a few close calls in the past two and a half years -- the Golden incident, that thing with Lash, the shooting in the mountains -- and each time I'd had no clue how to get in touch with the woman. Whenever I brought the subject up with Blair, he just shrugged and said something about free spirits. I guess it's all a matter of what you're used to.

Taking advantage of his speechlessness, I continued, "I know you're only behind around here because you were helping me out with that case last week. I guess I've kind of monopolized your time lately, Chief. I'm sorry for taking you for granted."

A multitude of emotions flickered quickly across my partner's face. I tried to name them but they were too fast for me. The one he ended up with looked a lot like hope from where I sat.

"Jim," he said slowly, "you had been drinking last night, right?"

"Yeah, I had a few more beers than I should have, but that's no excuse for--"

"No, it's all right," he interrupted, with a smile, but the smile faded as quickly as it came.

"Are you going to make your deadline?"

Blair was quiet for a long time. "Yeah, I'll make it. I'll just have to buckle down and stick to it."

Which I knew meant that he'd have some long nights ahead of him. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help?"

"No, I can handle it. Thanks."

Though I already knew the answer, I asked, "Are you going to be here all night?"

"Probably," he nodded.

I figured I'd have no chance of talking him into going out for dinner, so I decided on a compromise. "How about if I go pick up something for you to eat?"

His stomach growled just then and I smiled. Guess I was right about him skipping lunch. He reached for his wallet. "Yeah, okay, that would be good."

"My treat."

I drove to the deli on the edge of campus to pick up some sandwiches and sodas. Blair had seemed a little distant and entirely too quiet. He was definitely still upset with me, and I couldn't really blame him, but I was determined to make it up to him.

Most of what I said to the kid seemed to go in one ear and out the other, but occasionally, sensitive guy that I am, I managed to make an off the cuff remark that hurt his feelings. I guess that's what'd happened this time. I'm not sure exactly what it was that had gotten to him, but that didn't really matter. The point was, I had to start trying to see things from his point of view. It was selfish of me to think that he was the only one in our friendship that should be making sacrifices. I was going to have to learn to give a little myself once in awhile if I expected him to stick with this arrangement. The idea of his not sticking with it was unthinkable.

I didn't see a whole lot of Blair over the weekend. He spent most of his time in his office at the university. When he was home, he stayed pretty much in his room, which was a bit unusual. He usually worked at the kitchen table while I watched television in the living room. It was an arrangement that had always worked for us. In fact, if the truth be told, I kind of liked hearing him at the table, typing away on his laptop computer. It was kind of comforting. But I guess he needed to concentrate or something. If I hadn't heard his heartbeat, I wouldn't have known he was even home.

Monday morning found me in Simon's office, going over a new development in the murder case I was working. It was the work of an amateur, a wannabe hit man, that much was obvious. We had a couple of viable leads that we were pursuing. The murderer wasn't exactly a genius. I felt sure we would catch up with him soon. However, a monkey wrench had just been thrown into the mix.

Shortly after arriving at the station, I'd received a threat in the form of a very brief, but very blunt phone call. The call had backed up my theory that the hit man wasn't the brightest light in the city. It reeked of incompetence. The caller really hadn't made any point other than that I would 'back off if I knew what was good for me'. It was like a line out of an old movie. I'd almost laughed out loud.

Simon hadn't been as amused. And I have to admit, after I found out the other detectives on the case had received similar threats, I was a little more inclined to take it seriously myself.

"Just remember, Jim," Simon was saying, "this guy's already killed one man. And if he's as dumb as you think he is, he probably won't realize the seriousness of messing with a cop. Even the stupid ones get lucky occasionally."

The captain refilled our coffee mugs from the pot behind his desk. "I've got a bad feeling about this one, Jim. Just watch yourself."

"Developing a few senses of your own, Simon?"

He scowled at me over the top of his mug. "Wise ass this morning, aren't you? You've been around that partner of yours too long."

My smile faded at the mention of Sandburg. Simon picked up on it immediately.

"Something wrong, Jim?"

I took a sip of my coffee while I considered how to answer that. Nothing was wrong exactly, but there was something...I just couldn't quite put my finger on it. Finally, I shook my head. "No, everything's fine. Sandburg's just been a little stressed out lately. He pulled a lot of long hours with me last week on the Snead case, and now he's gotten a little behind in his school work."

"I don't know how the kid juggles it all," Simon said, leaning back in his chair. "I guess all of that energy comes in handy for something."

"It's a good thing for me he can juggle it."

Simon looked at me funny for a minute. "You worried about something, Jim?"

I should have known Simon would pick up on it. He was a detective, after all. Still, I hesitated, not sure I wanted to voice my fear.

"Let me see if I can help you out," Simon said. "You're worried that the kid is going to suddenly realize that it's too much for him. Am I close?"

"Dead on," I answered in surprise. Simon could read me that well? Or was it just that obvious? "His school work has taken a back seat to this job, Simon. I know he's here because that's what he wants to do," I hurried to say in the face of the protest I could see on the captain's face. "But is he going to one day wake up and realize he can't, or doesn't want to juggle it anymore?"

"Has he ever said anything to make you think he wanted out?"

I thought about the question. Blair had never said anything, not is so many words, but there'd been times, like this weekend for example, when I could tell he was...unsettled. And then there was the conversation we'd almost had in the middle of the crisis with the Chopec awhile back. The words of that conversation had haunted me ever since then, but the time had never seemed right to bring it back up. I was beginning to think putting it off may have been a mistake.

To answer Simon's question, I shook my head. "No...no, Simon, he hasn't, but that doesn't mean--"

"It doesn't mean you can jump to conclusions," Simon finished for me. "All anyone has to do is take one look at you two together to realize how absurd that idea is. Sandburg is right where he wants to be, doing what he wants to do. Somehow I have the feeling no one could make that kid do anything he doesn't want to do, as you should know by now."

Simon was right, of course, but that nagging fear wasn't convinced. Something was wrong. I don't know if it was the sentinel senses telling me that, or maybe just good old fashioned intuition, but I knew that the kid had something serious on his mind, and that had me just a bit nervous.

It surprised me to see Sandburg sitting at my desk as I came out of Simon's office. Why hadn't he joined us? A closed door had never stopped him before. He looked up as I approached, and I could see lines of exhaustion around his eyes. I knew he hadn't slept much in the past few days, but he'd been really anxious to meet his deadline at the university, so I hadn't given it much thought. Now that that was behind him, maybe he could get a good night's sleep.

"Hey, Chief," I said, taking a seat behind my desk. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long."

My eyebrows lifted at the brevity of his reply. A two word answer -- I didn't know he could do that. Was he still pissed at me? I couldn't imagine that Sandburg could hold a grudge so long. It just wasn't his nature to stay angry. I shook my head at my own thoughts. No, it was more likely that he was just tired. It had been a long weekend, after all.

"Get your papers turned in?" I reached for a stack of files I had been waiting for him to help me with.

"Yeah."

I frowned at him, but bit back the impulse to grill him over his apparent bad mood. Maybe something had happened at the university when he'd gone to turn in his work this morning. I got the impression he didn't want to talk about it. Figuring he would tell me about it when he was in a better mood, I let it drop.

I handed him the stack of files and stood. "I need you to go through these, Chief. I need a current home and work address on each one of them. You can use the computer to help track them down, but there may be a few that you can't find. Just set them aside for now." I moved around the desk to allow him access to my computer.

It was a mind-numbing job, one that I hated, but would have done myself ordinarily. But I figured maybe it would take his mind off of whatever was bothering him. I headed to get us both some caffeine, meeting Brown at the coffee station.

"Hey, Ellison, what's with Hairboy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I could barely get two words out of him. He acted a bit edgy, almost like he was upset with me about something."

I frowned. So it wasn't just me. In a way, I was relieved. The idea that the kid might have been angry at me wasn't very comforting. "He's been having some problems at school, I think. I'm sure that's all it is."

Brown shook his head. "I'm so used to seeing Hairboy around here, that I sometimes forget he doesn't actually work here."

I grabbed two cups of coffee and headed back to where Blair was working. He didn't look up and barely acknowledged the cup I set before him. I bit back a frown and, pulling a chair close to the desk, I began sorting through the files he had already finished.

By the time Simon emerged from his office an hour later with an invitation to lunch, I was more than ready to take a break. Sandburg refused the invitation with what was an obvious lie, even to Simon. The captain looked ready to call him on it, but I caught his eyes and silently asked him to let it drop. If the kid wanted to sulk alone, who was I to stop him?

Pulling my truck into its usual parking spot at the loft, I cut the engine and sat back with a sigh. I was exhausted. This murder case was turning into a nightmare. What should have been a simple investigation was fast becoming another of those cases that wear on your mind and nerves until you come home at the end of the day wondering why you had chosen the career in the first place. We were making progress, that wasn't the problem. In fact, I felt that we were getting very close to making an arrest. We had several likely suspects. Trouble was, we didn't have enough evidence to nail it on any of them. Still, it was just a matter of time.

The problem, and what was so mentally draining, was that the threats had escalated to a point where we could no longer treat them as a joke. Someone threatens your life once, even twice, and maybe you can pass it off as a hazard of the job, but they were coming daily now. And they were getting more imaginative. Guess the creep was imitating higher class movies now.

I climbed out of the truck and trudged up to the loft. I extended my hearing, searching for my roommate. By the time I reached the loft door, I had not only confirmed that he was home, but had determined that he was in his room, working on his laptop. Seems that was all he did lately. When he was home, which wasn't that often, he was in his room, doing schoolwork or reading. I decided the kid needed a break as much as I did.

Stepping into the loft, I called, "Sandburg!"

The kid popped his head out of his room almost immediately. He glanced around nervously as he came into the living room, then looked at me. "Yeah?"

"I thought maybe we could catch supper at Gondola's. I'm in the mood for Italian. How does that sound, Chief?"

He winced slightly at the mention of food, and I wondered if maybe he was coming down with something. Maybe that explained the strange behavior lately.

"Sorry, can't. I've got tons of homework."

"Come on, Sandburg. Even you have to eat sometime."

"I've got a casserole in the oven."

I hadn't even noticed the aroma when I came in. But casseroles froze well, and I really wanted to get the kid away from his work for awhile. "You would choose a casserole over Gondola's linguini with clam sauce? I thought you loved their linguini." If that didn't entice him, nothing would.

"I do, Jim, but I've already cooked the casserole, and I really do have to get this work done. You go ahead."

I bit back a sigh. Even I knew when to give up. "No, we can hit Gondola's another time. Casserole sounds good." I pulled off my jacket and turned back to face him, taking a whiff of the now obvious aroma coming from the kitchen. "In fact...is that Shaker Fish Pie?"

"Yeah."

"My favorite," I smiled. "Why didn't you say so, Chief? You know I'd pick your Shaker Fish Pie over Gondola's any day."

Sandburg shrugged indifferently. My eyes narrowed as a sudden thought came to me. "We've been having my favorites an awful lot lately. Something I should know, Chief?"

"Just doing my job." He stepped around me and headed into the kitchen. "It'll be ready in ten."

"Sandburg, you've cooked every night this week. Plus, you're doing all the cleaning, the laundry, the shopping...you sure there's not something you want to tell me?" I couldn't even convince myself that I was joking.

"Like what, Jim?"

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" It may have been my imagination, but it seemed to me that he was deliberately avoiding looking at me. I instinctively checked his heart rate, though, and was surprised to find it was pretty close to normal. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Maybe I was overreacting.

Blair laughed, and I relaxed one more notch. "No, Jim, not this time."

I threw my hands up in defeat and headed for the bathroom. "I give up. Far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth." I could get used to a clean loft, and while I didn't really like the subdued Sandburg, I was sure it was only temporary. Once whatever was going on at the university was behind him, I was sure the old Sandburg would return. I'd better enjoy the silence while it lasted.

By the seventh day of Sandburg's silent treatment, I was ready to shake the kid. It was beginning to wear on my nerves. I was sure he was upset about something, but he refused to talk to me about it, refused to even admit there was a problem. I tried on several occasions and was shot down each time. Something was going to have to give soon or I was bound to lose my temper. I had come close once or twice already.

I think, most of all, I was hurt by his attitude. It was obvious that something was bothering him. He trusted me with his life, why couldn't he trust me with his problems?

I forced aside these thoughts as I pulled into the parking garage at the station. I planned to go back to the site where the murder victim had been discovered. I knew there was something vital that I was missing. I was convinced that we were really close to solving this case. While I had no problem with handling it on my own, Blair insisted on accompanying me. He was worried about the possibility of a zone out, and if I were to be totally honest, so was I. But first, I wanted to swing by the station to pick up a fax the feds were supposed to send this morning.

We had barely entered the bullpen when Simon called us into his office. I detoured in his direction, taking two steps before I realized that Blair wasn't following me. I grabbed his arm and pushed him ahead of me, into Simon's office.

"Morning, Jim, Sandburg," Simon said, offering us a cup of coffee.

I returned the greeting and accepted the coffee. Blair shook his head at the offer, mumbling a greeting. At least, I assumed that's what it was. Even with my enhanced hearing, I couldn't make out the words. Simon glanced at Sandburg, then me, a question in his eyes. I shrugged.

Carefully avoiding any mention of the threats we had received, I quickly brought Simon up to date on the murder case. I had decided to keep that piece of information from Blair. With whatever he was going through already, I figured he didn't need anything else to worry about. I hated keeping something like that from him, but I just couldn't see anything to gain by telling him. Besides, I hoped to have this case wrapped up long before it could become an issue.

I was knee-deep in an explanation of why I was having trouble believing one of our so-called witnesses, when I noticed that Simon's attention was elsewhere. Following his eyes, I saw what the problem was. He was staring at Sandburg, who in turn, was staring at his shoes. It suddenly dawned on me that the kid hadn't contributed one word to our conversation.

Blair looked up suddenly, his eyebrows rising as he realized he was the center of attention.

"Sandburg, is there something going on that we should be aware of?" Simon asked.

"I don't think so," he answered warily.

I was sure the non-answer didn't satisfy Simon. He was obviously going to pursue the matter, but was interrupted by Rhonda interrupting to tell me the fax had arrived. I excused myself and headed for the door. Sandburg rose to follow me, but Simon called him back. I briefly considered going back to bail him out. It was pretty clear that Simon intended to try to get to the bottom of the kid's strange behavior. If he wasn't going to open up to me, I was sure he wasn't going to open up to the captain. The only thing that stopped me from calling Simon off was the hope that maybe I was wrong.

I collected my fax from Rhonda and went to wait for Sandburg by the elevators. I was tempted to listen in on the conversation, but I figured that would be stepping over the line. As badly as I wanted to hear what he had to say, if anything, I didn't have the right to do that to Blair. God knew, he got little enough privacy around someone that could hear every beat of his heart. He couldn't so much as swallow within a mile of me without my knowing about it. It wasn't that I consciously set out to monitor Blair with my senses. It just came as naturally to me as my own breathing. I had come to look on it as a sentinel/guide thing. Maybe it was important for the sentinel to be aware of his guide like that, I don't know. I quit questioning it a long time ago.

I heard Blair come out of Simon's office after a few minutes and head in my direction. I could tell by the rapid pace of his pulse that the conversation hadn't gone well. I risked a glance at him as we stepped into the elevator. His expression was carefully schooled, but I had no trouble detecting the slight tremors that shook his hands. He stuffed them into his pockets and stared intently at the floor numbers as they flashed by. I opened my mouth to ask him about it, but changed my mind. I had been that route already this week, several times. I had no desire to get my head bitten off again. If he wanted to talk, he knew where to find me.

The drive to the empty lot where the body was found was not only silent, but extremely uncomfortable. By the time we arrived, though, Blair seemed a good bit calmer. When I pulled the truck to the curb and cut the engine, he took off his seat belt and turned to face me.

"The captain said you've got some things on your mind, Jim."

I recognized that as the opening it was, but I couldn't resist shooting back at him, "You mean besides you?"

I didn't miss the guilt that washed over him at my words, and I regretted speaking them. "Look, Chief, this case has been one headache after another. It's nothing, really. Simon shouldn't have said anything." Damn straight, he shouldn't have said anything, and I intended to let him know. I had specifically asked Simon not to mention the threats to Blair.

"Jim, if something is bothering you, maybe we should discuss it."

His tone was very calm and controlled. I could tell he only wanted to help me, but the words set me off. I was instantly angry. "I agree. Let's discuss my problems, shall we? Right after we discuss whatever the hell is bothering you!"

I saw the walls fall behind his eyes just before he turned to look out the window. The silence in the truck grew oppressive. I knew I should say something, maybe apologize, but I couldn't bring myself to make the first move. I was tired of the word games. I wanted things back the way they should be. I wanted the old Sandburg back.

He turned his head slightly to meet my eyes, and I was surprised to see that the walls were down, his soul bared. I was further surprised by what I read there -- pain, confusion, anger, defeat. The one emotion that took me most by surprise was the resignation. He opened his mouth to say something, and my breath held, certain he was finally going to talk to me.

He never got the chance.

I heard the crack of the gun a split second before it impacted with the passenger side window, exploding it inward. I didn't even have time to register it before Sandburg went down in a swirl of red. I reacted without thought. I don't think I was capable of thought at the moment. I pulled him down, across the seat, ducking down myself over the top of him. I instinctively reached out with my hearing, trying to pinpoint where the shot had come from and determine how much danger remained. I was relieved to hear the sound of footsteps running in the opposite direction.

Turning my attention back to Blair, I almost stopped breathing. Oh God! There was blood everywhere. He had taken the full impact of the exploding glass. It was embedded in his face, his neck...God, it was in his eyes.

I grabbed Blair's hands as they made a move for his face and forced them back down by his side. I was making an attempt to calm him with my voice, but I have no idea what I was saying, if the words were even intelligible. Blair was struggling wildly in his agony.

He wasn't making any noise, I don't think he could. His throat was...God, I could barely look at it. I forced a deep breath and grabbed my cell phone, calling for backup and an ambulance, then tossed the phone to the floorboard. Blair was still trying to claw at his face. I continued to talk to him, trying in vain to keep the desperation from my voice.

"Relax, Chief, come on, stop fighting me." I had to get through to him. I was afraid he would hurt himself in his struggles. "Lay still, Blair."

Suddenly, I was aware of another sound, a sound that sent a deadly chill through me. Blair was beginning to struggle for breath as his airway filled with blood. I gently lifted him, still maintaining my hold on his arms, and pulled him back against my chest. I was hoping that would make it easier for him to breathe, but I didn't know if I was helping or hurting.

I could hear the sirens in the distance, drawing closer with each painful heartbeat. Would they make it in time? I was terrified that Blair was drowning in his own blood.

"Come on, Blair, hang in there, buddy," I begged through my tears. "Breathe for me, Blair. It's okay. You'll be all right, just keep breathing. Keep breathing, buddy." I was praying the words over and over, desperate to get through to him.

Suddenly, the world around us came to life. Someone opened the passenger door, swearing violently upon catching site of Blair's injuries. Someone else was behind me, telling me to let go of Blair so that they could take care of him. It took awhile, but the words penetrated, and I backed out of the cab of the truck. They pulled the kid out right behind me and laid him on the gurney. I stayed as close as I could, still soothing him with my voice. I was convinced that it would make a difference. After an eternity, blood loss, pain and exhaustion took their toll, and Blair relaxed into unconsciousness.

"Oh, my God..."

I didn't have to turn to know the whisper had come from Simon. I couldn't have anyhow. I couldn't take my eyes off of Blair.

"What happened, Jim?" he asked, his voice still a whisper.

I had already filled in the uniformed officers that had arrived with the ambulance, but I repeated the story for the captain.

"It was McGuire," I finished stonily.

From the corner of my vision, I could see Simon's incredulous look. Without waiting for his question, I said, "I could hear his cancer-filled lungs rasping for air as he ran away. It was him."

Simon nodded. "I'll put out an APB." He glanced back to where the paramedics were working to establish a clear airway.

I knew what the captain was thinking, but I prayed he wouldn't say it out loud. He must have heard my silent prayer, because he remained quiet. The medics were finally satisfied that Blair could breathe, though my hearing told me it was still a struggle. They grabbed the gurney and hurriedly shoved it into the back of the waiting ambulance.

"Come on, Jim," Simon said grabbing my arm. "I'll drive you to the hospital."

Blair's body had been between me and the glass. He had taken the full impact of the exploding window. My few cuts were minor by comparison. If I hadn't already known that, it was obvious the minute I walked into his room. He wasn't in the ICU, which I suppose was a good sign. The doctor had already given me extensive information on Blair's condition, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted me.

Blair was lying still on the hospital bed, looking very small and vulnerable. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only indication of life beneath the sheets. There were two IV bags, connected to a single line running into the back of his right wrist. His arms rested above the sheet, and I could see a multitude of cuts, though the worst of them were hidden beneath bandages. I could also make out thick bandages on his chest, beneath the hospital gown. His neck was entirely encased in gauze. My breath caught, and my heart skipped a beat, as I recalled the doctor's description of the damage to his throat. They had operated on Blair not long after they stabilized him, and everyone had assured me that it had been successful and there would be no permanent damage.

My eyes traveled upward, almost of their own volition. His face...oh, God...his face looked so bad. The only bandages were the ones over his eyes, leaving an unobstructed view of a multitude of stitched cuts. I knew the dressing on his eyes was a precaution, but the sight was almost more than I could bear. I almost left right then. This was so much harder than it should have been. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of Blair waking up alone, blind and unable to speak. I couldn't do that to him, no matter how hard it was to see him like that.

I forced my feet to carry me to the side of his bed, but it was an eternity before I could make myself touch him. I was afraid of hurting him further. I would rather have died than cause him further pain. I took his left hand between both of mine. God, he was so cold! I immediately unfolded the blanket at the bottom of the bed and tucked it around him. Blair had no tolerance for the cold, and I couldn't stand the thought of him lying there freezing but unable to do anything about it.

That done, I took his hand again, holding it until it warmed. I stood like that for a long time, holding his hand, staring down at the damage done to him by that...that...

They caught him. Simon had gotten the call while Blair was still in surgery. That should have satisfied me, but it didn't. It just seemed so incredibly stupid. McGuire was an idiot. He was doomed from the start by his incompetence. Something Simon had said a few days ago came back to me then: Even the stupid ones get lucky occasionally.

"I'm so sorry, Blair," I whispered, breaking the silence. "If I had taken the threats more seriously...or if I had discussed them with you...I don't know, maybe it would have made a difference. Maybe not. But I should have done it anyway."

I let go of Blair's hand briefly to pull a chair closer to the bed. Once I was seated, I took his hand again and started talking. I felt it important to talk, as though the sound of my voice would make a difference. Maybe that was arrogant of me, thinking I had that much power over him, but I could remember more than one occasion when his voice had been the anchor that held me to sanity. I wanted to do the same for him, if I could.

I had no control over what I was saying. I was unburdening my soul, telling him all the things I should have said to his face long before now. I admitted things there in that hospital room that I'd never said aloud, and seldom said even in the privacy of my thoughts. But the confessions did little to relieve the pain in my heart. I needed for Blair to hear me, to acknowledge my words and know my secrets. I promised myself to repeat these words again, very soon.

"Has he been awake?"

I startled at Simon's voice. For hours I had heard only the sound of my own voice in the small room. My throat had grown hoarse, but I was afraid to stop. I hoped my voice would ease Blair into wakefulness, giving me a chance to explain his condition before he could panic. It wasn't much, but it was the best I could do for him at the moment.

I shook my head at Simon's question.

He came to stand beside me. "The nurse says you've been here all night, Jim. Why don't you go home for a little while, get some rest."

"I can't, Simon. I have to be here when he wakes up." I stood and walked to the window, gazing out but not really seeing anything. "He's going to be scared. He'll be essentially blind, and he won't be able to talk. I have to be here to make sure he understands it's not permanent. I can keep him calm." There I went, sounding arrogant again, but I knew it was the truth. My voice had gotten through his pain to calm him the day of the shooting, and I had no doubt it would again. It wasn't arrogance, it was confidence.

"I can stay with him for awhile, Jim," Simon offered.

The gesture meant a lot to me, as I know it would have Blair, but I shook my head. "I have to do this, Simon."

"It's not your fault, Jim."

Simon and I had been friends for a long time. The man knew me well. But that didn't make him right. "Damn it, Simon, this wouldn't have happened it I had taken McGuire's threats seriously. I should have at least discussed them with Blair. He had a right to know what was going on."

"You thought you were protecting the kid, Jim. You can't be faulted for that. Come on, everyone's noticed the strain Sandburg's been under lately. The last thing he probably needed was something else to worry about."

Simon's words struck a chord. I knew they were the truth, but I couldn't let go of my guilt. "I never stopped to consider that Blair might be in danger from McGuire's threats. I never thought..." I had to stop and swallow the lump in my throat.

Simon cleared his throat. "That morning before the shooting, when I called the kid back into my office, Jim, were you listening?"

I looked at him, confused by the sudden change of subject. "I wouldn't do that, Simon."

"No, I didn't really think so. I...uh...I said some things that, well, that the kid took wrong. He was pretty angry at me when he left."

I nodded, remembering. "I noticed, but I didn't ask him about it."

"I tried to get him to tell me what was going on, but he was being pretty damned stubborn about it. I guess it made me angry, because I ended up yelling at him, which was probably the last thing he needed. I...well, I implied that he was letting you down, not giving you the support you needed. Damn it, Jim, you know I would never deliberately hurt the kid, but when I said that, he looked as if I had punched him in the stomach. I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth, but he wouldn't give me a chance to apologize."

I sighed deeply. "Helping me with my senses is the one area where Blair feels he's holding his own, besides his school work, I mean. Working with me, hanging around the station, I sometimes get the impression that he feels a little lost, like he's having to take two steps for every one of ours. It's a struggle for him, Simon, and I think he sometimes feels like he's losing the fight. But he keeps trying. He takes his knocks and keeps coming back. And I swear to God, I don't know why, except that he feels this need to help me control my senses."

"I blew it," Simon said. "I feel really bad for coming down on the kid so hard. I shouldn't have lost my temper like I did." Simon shook his head. He was silent for a long moment, and I waited, knowing he wasn't through. Finally, he said, "I thought if he couldn't talk to you, maybe he would talk to me. I was just trying to help."

I met the captain's eyes, reading the sincerity behind the words. "I'm sure he knows that, Simon."

"No, Jim, I don't think he does. But I'm going to make damn sure to tell him."

I nodded. Simon would make it up to Blair, I had no doubt. I just hoped I could find a way to do that, too. We talked for awhile longer. Simon made one more attempt to pry me away from Blair's side before giving up and leaving. I returned to my vigil in the chair, and picked up my one-sided conversation.

Blair's heart skipped a beat, and I knew he was waking up. I sat up straighter in the chair just as his pulse began to race.

"Chief?"

His mouth opened slightly, and I registered his panic when no sound came out. His heart was thundering in his chest, and his breath was beginning to come in gasps. Getting air past the swelling in his throat had to have been difficult, and I knew his panic would only make it worse. I had to get him calm enough to listen to me.

"Shh...it's okay." I pressed my hand gently against his forehead, carefully avoiding the worst of the cuts. "Don't try to move, Chief. Just lay still, breathe deep. Come on, you know the drill. Slow and easy."

I repeated myself until I heard him take a slow, deep breath, and his heart began to slow back to a normal pace. He finally relaxed back into the pillows.

"It's okay, Chief." I tried for the soothing tone he used with me when he was helping me work through a problem with my senses. I wasn't nearly as good at it as he was. "Just relax. I know that had to be scary, but it's not as bad as you think."

His pulse quickened briefly, then settled again.

"You have bandages on your eyes, but the doctor says there's no permanent damage. It'll just take a little while to heal."

Blair turned his face toward me and opened his mouth in silent question. I had to swallow hard before I could answer.

"There was some damage to your throat, Blair, but they did some fancy surgery that fixed it right up." I struggled to keep my tone light despite what it was doing to me to see him like this. "There's still some swelling that's making it difficult to talk. The doc says it should go down in another couple of days."

I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "For now, we'll just have to communicate in a round about way."

I couldn't suppress a smile when he squeezed my hand back in answer. "I'm going to go get the doctor, okay? I'm sure he's going to want to know you're back with us. I'll be right back. Are you going to be all right?"

He nodded weakly, and with another quick squeeze of his hand, I left to find his doctor.

I stood to the side while the medical team examined Blair. The doctor was talking to him, trying to tell him about his injuries and treatments, but I could tell Blair wasn't listening. His heartbeat had quickened in response to the burst of noise and commotion that had followed the medical staff into the room. His head moved slightly from side to side, and I knew instinctively that he was searching for me.

Squeezing between the doctor and one of the nurses, ignoring their glares, I placed my hand on his arm. Instantly, his pulse calmed. "It's okay, Chief. I'm right here. Just relax and listen to the doctor."

He took a shaky breath and turned his head toward the doctor. I could tell he was trying to listen, but it was only moments before he was sleeping again. I took advantage of the respite and slipped out of the room while the doctor finished his examination. I had to call the station, the guys were waiting for word, and I knew I should probably get something to eat while I had the chance, but I headed down the hall to the men's room.

I stood in front of the mirror for a long time, studying my reflection, but not seeing it. I was looking inside, through the eyes, to a part of me that only I could see. A dark place where I hid away my insecurities and fears. I had resided there for the past couple of days, and only now could I see my way out. I took several deep breaths and focused on pushing everything back into place. Only when I felt I had somewhat succeeded did I relax and leave.

A slight tremor ran through Blair. My hand was resting on his arm, alerting me to the change and waking me instantly. My eyes opened just as his head turned in my direction.

"Hey, buddy."

He managed a weak smile.

I straightened and reached for the water pitcher on the table next to the bed. The instant my hand moved from his arm, his heart rate increased. "It's okay, Chief. I'm still here. I'm just going to get you some water. I'm sure your mouth is dry."

I poured some water into the cup and dropped in a straw, then placed it to his lips. "Tiny sips, okay? Your throat is still swollen," I warned, "so swallowing might be difficult. Just take it slow."

Blair sipped carefully at the straw. I could see the effort it took for him to swallow, and I grimaced in sympathy. He turned his head away, refusing to take more.

"It's okay. We can try again later."

I pulled my chair a little closer and returned my hand to his arm. "Do you need anything?" I asked, not knowing what else to say.

He shook his head.

"Do you remember talking to the doctor earlier?"

He shook his head again, so I briefly filled him in on the basics. I figured the details could wait until he was feeling better. He seemed relieved when I told him that the bandages would be removed from his eyes tomorrow. He even smiled. The sight of that smile did wonders for my own pain.

"You're going to be fine, Blair."

He was. He was going to be okay. And I didn't just mean physically. Whatever was going on with him, whatever problems he was having, we would work them out together. When I got Blair home, I would sit him down and wait until he felt safe enough to trust me with it. I wouldn't give up or lose my patience this time. Then, when he did feel safe enough to talk to me, I would listen, really listen. And, together, we would work it out, whatever it was. I had no doubt we could. Friends who could communicate could work through anything. And we were going to learn to communicate.

Resolving to solve a problem had very little to do with actually solving it. It took me awhile to realize that, but once I did, I was able to relax a bit. Just a few days earlier, I had been convinced that communication was the answer to everything bad in the world. While that might have been a naive assumption, I was still convinced it was essentially correct. But it wasn't a perfect solution. It only worked when both parties were capable of communication.

I glanced over to where Blair had taken up residence on the sofa. He'd scarcely moved since I brought him home from the hospital a few hours earlier. The television was on, and he was listening to it, but I had my doubts as to how much he could see. The doctor had explained to us both that his vision would be a bit fuzzy for a few days, partly due to the still healing injury, partly due to the ointment that I had to help him apply a couple of times a day.

Most of the bandages had been removed, revealing vivid, painfully inflamed cuts, crossed by stitches that wouldn't be removed for several more days. The kid looked rough...a painful reminder to us both of just how close it had been.

Our problem, or at least my problem, was his continued inability to talk. He could croak out a few words, but I could tell that it was still painful for him. So I was trying very hard to be patient, and it was killing me. Once I had resolved to get everything out in the open, I wanted it done immediately, if not sooner. Patience was a virtue with which I was not well acquainted.

I think Blair could sense my impatience. He kept casting nervous glances in my direction, and I could see that he wanted to say something. It had to be killing him, not being able to voice his thoughts. Speech was such an important part of who he was. It was one of his greatest talents, and though I teased him a lot about it, I would gladly welcome the comforting sound of his voice at the moment.

Finally, Blair turned on the couch to face me and mouthed the word 'what', his eyebrows making it a question. I knew what he meant, but not wanting to have a one-sided discussion, I feigned ignorance.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, hoping he would accept the not so deft change of subject. "I can fix you some broth, or some soup?" It would be awhile before he could swallow more than liquids.

He shook his head and continued to look at me. I knew he wasn't satisfied. Blair could sense my moods better than anyone I had ever known. Not even Carolyn had been able to get inside of me like he could. And he was tenacious once he sensed a problem.

'What?' he mouthed again.

And again I attempted to evade the subject. "I'm just not used to all this silence. It's a bit unnerving."

Sandburg frowned and something indefinable flashed across his expression. I knew instantly that I had said something wrong, but I was at a loss as to what. The kid stood suddenly and headed to his room. I was still sitting there, debating whether or not to go after him and see if I could root out the problem, when he returned, carrying a notebook and pen. He sat back down on the couch and scribbled something across the top of the page, then shoved it at me.

I thought this was what you wanted.

I was confused. "What are you talking about, Sandburg? You think I wanted you to get hurt?" The kid had lost his mind!

He shook his head adamantly and took the notebook back.

No, me quiet! he wrote.

I started to laugh, but then I caught sight of the thinly veiled anger and pain in his eyes. He was serious, I suddenly realized. "Chief, I know I tease you about your...ability to..."--how could I put this?--"your ability to carry on a robust conversation, but that's all it is...teasing. You know I don't mean it."

He turned his head away, and I knew right then that there was more to this than my occasional joking remark. "Chief?"

For long minutes, I thought he was going to ignore me, but he eventually turned back to face me. His face was unreadable, but I was determined to pursue this. After all, he was the one who had brought it up.

"Does this have anything to do with your attitude the past couple of weeks, Sandburg?" That probably wasn't the best way to word the question, but I've never been know for my subtlety. And I could tell by the look on his face that I had struck gold.

He shook his head, but I got the feeling that it wasn't a denial so much as a gesture of frustration over not being able to voice his thoughts. So I handed him back the notebook. No way was I going to let him off the hook that easily.

Blair hesitated, then took the notebook.

You weren't teasing.

I looked back up at him in confusion. "When?" I was searching my memory for what he was referring to and coming up empty.

You said I talk too much. You weren't teasing.

"If that's supposed to clear things up, Chief--"

He snatched back the notebook and scribbled furiously for several long minutes, then shoved it back at me.

I overheard you talking to the guys about me. You said I talk too much, I make too much mess, I nag too much. You compared me to a poorly trained dog. It was a big joke to all of you. NOT a joke to me.

I stared at the paper, then at Sandburg. I had no idea what he was talking about. I had never said those things, I would never say such things about him. He must have read the puzzlement in my expression, because he grabbed the notebook again and added a brief explanation.

Two weeks ago, the night the guys came over for the game. I came home early. I heard your conversation.

As I read the damning words, realization came slowly to me. We had been talking about Sandburg, but what had we said? I didn't recall all of the conversation, but I remembered enough to be mortified. I remembered...oh, God! How much had he heard?

"Blair, we were drinking. We didn't mean anything. Hell, we were talking about everybody that night. We didn't mean...we didn't..." What excuse could I offer? I couldn't even remember how far we had gone in our joking around. But I knew that we had been totally out of line by talking about him at all behind his back. "Blair...I'm sorry...I don't know--"

"Jim..."

I looked up, meeting his eyes. Those blue orbs looked deep as pools, with countless emotions swimming in them. He held my gaze for a long moment, then shook his head. "S'all right," he forced out hoarsely.

"No, Blair, it's not--"

He put his hand on my arm, stopping me, then quickly scribbled again.

It hurt at first, but it's okay now.

His expression said he was sincere. I was suddenly looking at the kid through new eyes. Sandburg feels things deeper than most people. That's just how he is. It took me awhile to realize that and make adjustments in the way I handled him. He takes things to heart. I suppose it was the way Naomi raised him. Or maybe it was just a trait he was born with. I could only imagine how badly the overheard conversation must have hurt him. And I knew from experience how strong his flight instinct was.

But he hadn't taken off.

I stood up abruptly and headed for the balcony, thinking fresh air might cut through the fog in my brain. There were too many implications to this. Hell, put aside for a minute the pure guilt and shame I felt at his having heard comments that should never have been made in the first place. Just the idea that he had stuck around after the fact was blowing me away. What did that mean? What did it say about our relationship?

I knew without looking that Blair had walked up behind me. He stood quietly. Maybe he was waiting for me to say something, or maybe he was simply letting me complete my thoughts. I could hear his heartbeat, having tuned to it unconsciously, as I often do. A sudden thought hit me, and I voiced it without turning.

"I didn't hear you." Meaning that I hadn't heard him that night. Not that it mattered. That was no excuse.

"You were drinking," he answered softly, knowing somehow what I was referring to.

It took me a minute to grasp what he meant. Then I got it. I had turned the dials down. "Oh, yeah."

I continued to gaze across the tops of the buildings surrounding us. I don't know what I was looking for, but I wasn't finding it. Everything seemed so clear now. Sandburg's sullen and withdrawn attitude the past couple of weeks, his newly discovered domestic skills, his mastery of the art of silence. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have seen the way he was trying to mold himself into what he erroneously thought I wanted him to be? Did he think I would kick him out if he didn't make the changes? I closed my eyes tightly in the face of renewed guilt and shame.

But that thought quickly led to others, equally as painful. Did the kid think that much of our relationship, that he was willing to forgo everything that was essentially him in order to preserve it? The depth of the sacrifice that Blair had been willing to make hit me with the force of a blow, and I swayed beneath it.

A warm, gentle hand grasped my arm, pulling me back to the present. I slowly opened my eyes and met his concerned gaze.

"Jim?"

Impulsively, I grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace. His sudden, sharp gasp reminded me of his injuries, and I reluctantly loosened my grip, but didn't let go.

"God, Blair, I'm so sorry. I've continually taken you and our friendship for granted. For someone who's supposed to have such damned good vision, I have a hell of a hard time seeing what's right under my nose. I had no idea...I never thought...hell, Chief, I don't deserve a friend like you. Why would you want to stick around an ass like me?"

There was a long moment of silence, then I made out his soft reply, muffled against my shoulder. "You need me."

"You're damned straight, kid," I agreed, "and don't you ever let me forget it, you hear me? If you ever even begin to suspect that I'm taking you for granted again, you clobber me over the head with the nearest heavy object. You got that?"

There was a short nod against my chest, but he made no effort to extricate himself from my grip, so I hung on, smiling in deep satisfaction when I felt his arms slowly snake around me to return the embrace.

I knew that this subject was far from over. We had a lot to discuss still, but I was sure that we could handle it now. And of course there was still the guys at the station to consider. I had no intention of carrying this guilt by myself. They had a lot to answer for, too. And they would. I knew how the guys felt about the kid, I knew how easily they had accepted him into their tight-knit little group. It was time for them to let Blair know.

Epilogue:

We slipped into the lecture hall unnoticed by all but the few students on the back row. I was certain Blair didn't see us. He didn't even looked up as we quietly took seats in the back of the room, and I could tell his heart rate had not increased. The lights were low, in deference to the video that was showing on the large television in the front of the class. I knew Blair's throat was still giving him trouble, making teaching difficult for him. It looked like he had found a way around that problem, at least for the day.

After a few minutes, I realized that the video was a documentary of Doctor Stoddard's expedition to Borneo. I darted a quick glance at my partner, my sentinel vision having no trouble cutting through the dim light. He was apparently enraptured by the film, a slightly wistful expression on his face. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he regretting his decision to pass up the once in a lifetime chance to accompany his mentor on the trip? Did he feel he had made the wrong choice?

I shook away the thoughts. Blair was not one to second guess himself. He had made the decision based on our work together as sentinel and guide, on our partnership, and on friendship. Selfishly, I believed he had made the right decision. I knew how much I needed him, not just as a sentinel. My need went beyond that, and I was pretty sure Blair knew it. If he didn't, I intended to make damn sure he found out in the very near future.

The video ended, and Sandburg shut off the machine while a student raised the lights. When Blair turned back to face the class, his eyes immediately landed on the row of detectives in the back of the room. I heard his pulse increase as he drew in a sharp breath. I'm not sure what was going through his mind, but I knew he wasn't happy with it. Though Blair had insisted that he had put the eavesdropping incident behind him, he had been avoiding the station. He had plenty of ready-made excuses, but I knew the real reason was that he knew I had talked to the guys about what had happened. I was sure that he was embarrassed to face them, and I figured if the mountain wouldn't go to Mohammed...

So here we were: Simon, Rafe, Henri, Joel, Carl, and me. Six of the biggest jackasses in Cascade.

Blair passed out some papers to his students, made a few comments, and dismissed the class. We waited until the last of the students were gone, then made our way to the front of the room. He stood perfectly still, watching us advance. Outwardly, he was calm, but I could hear the racing of his heart, the catch in his breath.

The guys stopped a few feet away, but I continued until I was directly in front of Blair.

"What's going on, Jim?" he asked nervously.

I took his arm and gently guided him to a seat in the front row. "Just a little demonstration, Chief. The guys have been working on this for a day or so, and they wanted to run it by you."

The way he glared at me, I was convinced that my head was about to fall off and roll away. He knew what was coming, and he wasn't very happy about it, but he bit back whatever comment he was about to make and sat down, his arms crossed in defiance on his chest. I took the seat beside him and nodded to Simon.

The captain glanced at the men beside him and cleared his throat. It didn't take sentinel vision to see the deep red flush that worked up the captain's throat and into his dark face. I suppose I wasn't helping matters much by my refusal to suppress my amusement.

All of the guys were glaring at me by then, their eyes begging for a reprieve, but I wasn't feeling particularly generous. I fully intended to enjoy every minute of this little 'demonstration'.

Simon cleared his throat again, and began singing, so softly at first that even I had trouble hearing him. I cupped my hand to my ear and leaned forward. Simon's glare increased, but so did his volume. His deep, rich voice filled the large room, and after a minute, he was joined by the other guys.

Try to see it my way,
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong.
While you see it your way
There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long.
We can work it out,
We can work it out.

I was amazed at how good they sounded. The harmonies weren't half bad.

Life is very short, and there's no time
For fussing and fighting, my friend.
I have always thought that it's a crime,
So I will ask you once again.
Try to see it my way,
Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong.
While you see it your way
There's a chance that we may fall apart before too long.
We can work it out,
We can work it out.

I stole a glance at Blair from the corner of my eye. He was watching the guys with a totally blank face. Not one hint of emotion showed in his eyes or expression. I suddenly wondered it this had been such a good idea. I'd thought that humor would be the best way to break the ice, get Blair and the guys talking again. I'd had a hell of a time talking Simon into this. The other guys had been easy. They were feeling so guilty over the incident that I think they would have done anything to make it up to the kid. But Simon...well, I knew I'd be doing paperwork 'til I was old and gray to pay for his humiliation, but I figured it'd be worth it if we could make up to Blair for the hurt we'd caused him.

Only, Blair didn't look amused. And I suddenly had a feeling I was going to be facing a hell of a lot more than Simon's wrath if this failed.

The guys finished up the song with a note that was sustained way too long and slightly off-key, and suddenly there was a scattering of applause from the door to the hall. I was surprised to see a handful of students in the doorway. Apparently, they had been attracted by the singing, but one look at Simon Banks' scowl and they quickly scattered.

The humiliation complete, every eye turned to Blair, waiting for some kind of reaction. His face was still expressionless, and the silence stretched on heavily. No one was sure what to say or do, and they were all looking to me to make the first move.

"Chief, the guys are trying to say--"

"I know what they're trying to say, Jim," Blair interrupted. "It was a pretty sorry attempt, too."

I exchanged glances with Simon, not really sure what to do now. I'd been so certain this would work.

"No," Blair deadpanned, "it definitely needed a stronger tenor. No offense, Rafe, but you can't carry a tune in a bucket. You can sing tenor, can't you, Jim?"

My mouth dropped, and I heard a couple of stifled snickers coming from the chorus line.

"Come on, Jim," Blair continued, his face totally serious, "it's only fair. You hurt my feelings, too."

"Yeah, Jim," Henri joined in happily, "you're not exactly an innocent party here, man."

"And this was your idea, Jim," Joel obviously felt compelled to add.

"No way," I protested. I was not going to humiliate myself like those guys had just done.

But one look at Blair and I knew it was a lost cause. He was looking at me solemnly, his eyes wide and innocent. I frowned and stood. Simon grabbed my arm firmly and pulled me into the group beside him. When I turned back, I noticed a sparkle in the kid's eyes and almost smiled...

...until Simon said, "Why don't you lead us off, Jim?"

"You know, guys," Blair said, "I think 'Respect' or maybe 'Who's Sorry Now' would be much more appropriate, under the circumstances."

"You guys are going to pay for this," I muttered under my breath. "You're going to pay!"

"I think we already are," Simon replied, and counted off the beat.

It was a fair trade, I decided when Blair's face finally broke out in a wide smile -- our humiliation for his. He was obviously enjoying our little show immensely. And the ice was definitely broken, hopefully paving the way for a serious discussion over lunch.

By the time we had croaked out the last painfully high note, even the guys were grinning. There was no use fighting it, so I joined in happily. Blair stood and walked over to us, shaking his head.

"You know, you guys aren't half bad," he commented.

"You think?" Henri asked, and I had the sneaking suspicion he was serious.

"No, really," Blair said. "Of course, Jim stinks, and Rafe needs way more practice on the harmonies, but the rest of you guys are okay."

"You know," Simon said, "I used to sing in church when I was a kid. Even had the occasional solo."

I buried my head in my hands and groaned.

"Has the department ever thought about sponsoring a talent show?" Blair asked, pointedly ignoring my misery.

I groaned once more and grabbed Sandburg's arm, propelling him toward the door. "Come on, Chief, the guys are treating us to lunch."

Blair grabbed his backpack as we passed his desk. At the door he turned back to Simon. "Maybe I could help organize it. And if you need a manager, I know this guy..."

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