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Part I

Prologue

The searing whirlwind would be heralded by the arrival of two unexpected guests. With gale force, it would search and destroy, to leave in its wake mere ashes and dust where life once flourished. Normally-- naturally-- it originated in the vast, overwhelming heat of the desert, or perhaps in the churning, boiling depths of the earth. Once or twice, it had swirled from a tower of colliding atoms blooming in a mushroom cloud. Despite the lack of the defining cloud-- truly, the lack of anything visible to the naked eye-- this sirocco would be similar to that which destroyed Nagasaki and Hiroshima: for it was going to be hot, deadly....

And entirely man-made.

Chapter One

It was an accident, a stupid freak kind of thing that should have merited a "whoops", not the "oh, shit" that she was constantly muttering as she fled the building. But she'd seen too many movies, read too many thrillers, and knew better than to hang around, digesting what she'd accidentally seen on her computer screen. The information was hot, too hot for her to handle alone. But who could she turn to? She had no evidence, and wasn't too keen on trying to get some herself. Who would take her word at face value, and have the guts to follow up on what she had seen?

She giggled nervously as the answer came to her. He had loved her once, and knowing him, he probably still did in his detached sort of way. It wasn't his fault that it hadn't worked out. She wanted more than he had to give. She'd known he was deficient that way when she'd married him, but she'd convinced herself that she could change him. Hell, there had been tons of women before and after her who'd thought the same thing. Never thought it would be a younger man who would get the job done. Was he sleeping with him? She didn't know, didn't care. If it had just been about sex, they never would have gotten divorced. No, this man had some other kind of connection to her ex. It was almost tangible, yet indescribable.

Anyway, all that mattered was that both of them were happy-- she and her ex. At least, she'd been happy until she spilled her coffee on her computer, and instead of the circuits frying, they had taken her to a forbidden page, and she had seen what she ought not to have seen. When the page went suddenly dark, she had known that someone else knew she had seen it, and she'd gotten the hell out of Dodge. And now she had to get to her ex, because he would believe her, because he had loved her. And he would do something about it, because that was the kind of man he was. A Boy Scout, with a past that could probably handle whatever shit was about to hit the fan.

But first things first. She needed money. Thank God for credit cards...except credit cards could be traced. Bank card? Same deal. But.... She pulled out her wallet, and smiled. She'd always known there was a reason she hadn't cleaned the thing out in nearly a decade. The card was part of the joint account she had with her ex. There was a chance he had changed the account or the PIN, but there was also a good chance he hadn't. She could hear him now, giving a little shrug and saying, "I knew you wouldn't use it unless you had to, and I think if you had to, then I would want you to use it." Sometimes she wondered why she had divorced him. If she had just held on, his young friend would have shown up, and changed him anyway. A threesome might have been interesting.

"You're getting edgy and silly," she warned, as she pulled up in front of a bank machine. Hopefully, they wouldn't think about checking for activity under her married name. She had given it up a long time ago, hadn't really wanted it in the first place. Looking around, she stuck the card in the machine and punched in the remembered PIN.

The words appeared in fluorescent green: WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO?

Live a long and fruitful life. See Paris. Go on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire and win without using a single lifeline (she'd never seen so many dumb women in her life). Oops. Maybe she should win first, then see Paris. Made more sense that way, right? Aw, hell, who was she kidding? All she really wanted was to see tomorrow. With an anxious look around, she withdrew as much cash as she was allowed, and headed toward the airport.

After purchasing a ticket, she changed a ten for a roll of quarters and went to the pay phones near the rest rooms. His voice sounded so sweet to her that she almost cried. But she had to hold it together a little longer. "It's me. I'm in trouble. My plane's about to board, so I don't have much time. Can you pick me up at the airport in an hour?"

Moments later, she was strapped in her seat, and silently singing the praises of the man she had married. No questions. No hesitation. No hint of impatience. He would be at the airport, and he would help her.

"Jimmy Ellison, you were, and always will be, the best thing that ever happened to me," Carolyn Plummer sighed, earning her a puzzled look from the woman seated next to her. She shrugged, and for the first time since those accidental moments in her office, she relaxed.

*****

Police Detective Jim Ellison replaced the receiver, his brow furrowed worriedly.

"Problems?" his roommate and partner, Detective Blair Sandburg, asked. Although they were officially off for the evening, he had learned back in the days when he'd just been an observer that policemen were never off the job.

"That was Carolyn," Jim replied softly.

"Carolyn? As in your ex-wife?"

"Yep."

"Something wrong?"

Jim shrugged. Although they had parted the marriage as friends, he hadn't seen Carolyn in a number of years. A few months after he'd met Blair, Carolyn had moved to San Francisco to head the city's Forensics Division. "She wants me to meet her at the airport. Her plane lands in an hour."

"It takes more than an hour to get here from San Francisco. She called you from the plane?"

"She's not in California anymore. About a year ago, she took a position at a research facility in Oregon. She got tired of fighting the City Council for every little thing her division needed, so when this company-- GenoTech-- made her a very good offer, she accepted. I didn't tell you?"

"No, you didn't tell me, but that's okay. What's going on now?"

"I don't know, Chief, but--" He gave his head a small shake as if to jostle out the answer he knew was up there.

"What is it, Jim?"

"Carolyn is a strong lady. Her job exposed her to a lot of terrible crime scenes, and none of them ever really got to her. But tonight, on the phone, she was absolutely terrified. I could hear it in her voice, and in her heartbeat." He took his gun from its usual resting place and checked its clip.

"You need back up?" Blair started to reach for his jacket.

"You have a guest to attend to, Chief," Jim said, reaching for the door. Naomi Sandburg stood there, a hand raised to knock.

The redhead took a disconcerted step back, then held out her arms to embrace the man in the doorway. "Hi, Jim," she nearly squealed. "How's my second-most favorite guy?"

Jim smiled, and returned the hug. "I'm fine, Naomi. Just in a bit of a hurry. You'll be around for a while, right?" he asked. Sometimes her visits with her son only lasted a couple of hours before she flitted off to some other landing perch.

"A couple of days at least," she replied.

"Great. We'll have time to get together." He turned to his roommate, who was in the process of receiving his own hug. "Later, Chief."

Blair nodded. "Be careful, Jim. And call if you need me."

"I will."

Blair frowned as the familiar back disappeared down the stairs. With a sigh, he turned to his mother. "So, Mom, what brings you to Cascade?"

"Can't a mother just visit her son?" Naomi quizzed, as Blair took her heavy satchel and ushered her inside.

"Sure. But that's not why you're here."

"When did you become so spiritually gifted that you can discern my motives so easily?"

"For one thing, I've spent the past five years of my life working with cops. Ferreting out motives is sort of a specialty of theirs. For another, I love you, Mom. That gives me incredible insight into your thoughts."

"I just wanted to see how you were doing, honey."

Blair nodded. He had accepted her year-long absence for what it was: penance, atonement, whatever. Against his express wishes, she had made his dissertation public, and all hell had broken loose. The casualties had been high, almost too high. Captain Simon Banks and Inspector Megan Conner had been shot, and in a way, Jim being shot was also related to "Fiasco '99", his personal title for the disaster. Jim would have gotten the assassin, Zeller, before anyone was shot if the press hadn't distracted the Sentinel. The press wouldn't have distracted Jim if Sid, Naomi's publisher friend, hadn't released blurbs from the dissertation. Sid wouldn't have released blurbs if Naomi hadn't sent him the diss. Naomi wouldn't have sent him the diss if Blair had protected it better. So, in the end, it was all Blair's fault, and in the true spirit of "like mother, like son", he too had done a year of penance.

He'd joined the Cascade Police Department. He'd gone through the academy, had been issued a badge and a gun. Except for those two items, his job was the same as before: protect Jim. But still, it had been penance, because before he'd had a choice whether to become a participant or remain an observer. Now, there was no choice. He participated because he had to, because that was why the city was paying him. He was a cop, a pig, an oppressor of free speech. When Captain Banks handed him an assignment, he did it-- and learned to leave whatever lingering feelings and doubts he had afterward at his desk, or at the local cop bar he and Jim had taken to frequenting.

Jim hated the bar; Blair knew that without Jim having to say a word. But Jim was doing his penance, too. The older man had reacted badly when their world had exploded into a sea of flashbulbs and microphones, and had taken it out on his partner. When he'd watched Blair deny his whole academic life on television, he'd realized he'd been acting like an ass (his word, not Blair's). A doer, not a sayer, Jim had skipped over the "I'm sorry" bit, and gone to work repairing the damage that had been done. What couldn't be repaired, he'd replaced. Rainier University didn't want Blair anymore, so he made sure the Cascade Police Department did. Jim had never been forthcoming about how he'd arranged Blair's quick induction into the department and his rapid rise in rank, but Major Crime's newest detective figured it had something to do with the fact that the brass now knew Jim was a Sentinel, and assigned him the high profile (read "politically sensitive") cases.

Just as Jim quietly suffered the peccadilloes of the higher-ups-- covering what needed to be covered, and judiciously wording his reports-- he suffered the bar, with its clouds of cigarette smoke, loud jukebox, and unimaginable smells, so that Blair wouldn't feel isolated, cut off from the social world he'd inhabited at Rainier. Surprisingly, the bar did remind Blair of his old hangouts. It seemed that under the influence of alcohol, everyone was the same. There were the ones who spouted philosophical rhetoric, the ones who talked too loud and bragged too much, and the ones who predictably passed out by the third round. Blair smiled at the thought.

"I'm doing fine, Mom," he finally replied. "I'm good at my job, and I'm surrounded by friends, good friends. What more could I want?"

"The life that you had."

Blair shook his head. "None of us can have that, Naomi. We all have to move forward."

"But you don't have to change spheres to do that," Naomi said hesitantly. "You could move forward, yet remain in the same world."

"I got kicked out of that world, remember?" he asked dryly.

"I remember," she said, her eyes haunted and sad. "I also remember it was my interference which started...."

"Fiasco '99," Blair supplied. "I'm sure the networks would have come up with something better, but I didn't want to bother them. They had their hands full with Y2K and the millennium, you know."

Naomi's hands fluttered in her lap. "You've become so cynical. They have ruined you."

"They? What 'they', Ma? And you better be careful how you answer that. Don't want you to accuse yourself of being mother to swine."

Naomi fell silent, her arms wrapping protectively around her middle.

Blair saw the hurt in his mother's eyes, and silently cursed himself. He was doing the same exact thing Jim had done-- lashing out at the person closest to him. Actually, that person would be Jim, but the Sentinel wasn't here and the anger was, which shocked him. He hadn't realized he possessed this core of bitterness until he'd seen Naomi standing in the doorway. Apparently, seeing her had triggered repressed emotions. Damn, Jim. Why couldn't I have picked up some of your more redeeming habits instead of these?

"That was uncalled for," he apologized softly.

"I'm sorry you're having so much trouble coping, baby."

"I'm not. I mean, I didn't know I was until now. I'm afraid your presence has unsettled me a bit."

Naomi paled. "I'm sorry, Blair. I'll leave immed--"

"No!" He ran his fingers through his short, curly hair. "No, I don't want that. It's been a year. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too, honey. But I thought you needed the distance, and I-- I wanted to find some way to make it all up to you."

"That isn't neces--"

"I have a letter," she said, getting up and bending over her satchel. "It can probably explain better than I can."

He took the envelope, startled to see the words "Duke University" imprinted in dark blue in the upper lefthand corner. "What is this, Ma?"

"Read it, Blair. Please."

He broke the seal, and quickly scanned the enclosed letter. His eyes widened at the closing words: The Anthropology Department would be pleased to add you to its roster of doctoral candidates. He looked up from the letter. "What have you done now?" he asked warily.

"Nothing, Blair. Not really. They didn't even know about the scandal. I guess it wasn't the worldwide sensation it felt like here," she said with a careful smile.

"Hey, don't bruise my ego like that," Blair teased uneasily. He hated seeing his mother holding back in his presence. He'd always cherished the openness they shared.

"I went to Martin because I had latent anger toward Sid and that disagreeable woman, Chancellor Edwards. I thought talking to a lawyer--"

"Martin's a lawyer?"

She nodded. "And on Duke's Board of Directors. I thought he would have some insight into what had happened. According to him, Rainier had no legal right to let you go."

"I admitted to fraud, Naomi."

"What fraud, Blair? You never submitted your dissertation. All anyone had was an illegally obtained file from your computer. You aren't criminally liable for that."

"What about morally liable?"

"You know how I feel about the policing of morals, honey. It can't be done. Besides, who did you defraud? For all the university knows, you never intended to submit that dissertation. You could have been planning to dump the entire thing and change topics, or leave the university altogether."

Blair flinched at how close she was to the truth. One of the reasons he hadn't wanted anyone to read the paper was because he hadn't been sure he could go through with formally submitting it. Even deleting Jim's name, labeling him as Subject A or something similar, hadn't seemed like enough of a protective net for his Sentinel. "What does this have to do with the letter, Naomi?"

"You have the right to complete your education, Blair. You could force Rainier to reinstate you, but the negative energies there would be difficult to get past. I thought maybe you'd like a new start in a fresh environment. When Duke's Anthropology Department got a look at your record, and the work you did for your Master's, they were impressed," she said proudly.

"And they got this information how?"

Naomi shrugged. "I just thought it would be best if you got away from the memories, away from the guns."

"Away from Jim?" Blair asked softly.

"Don't get me wrong, honey. Jim's a good man, but...I'm not sure how good you are for each other."

"I thought you didn't want to tear apart our friendship?" Blair remarked wryly, remembering the penitent Naomi talking to Jim in the middle of the mess.

"You can be friends from separate coasts. Email, chat rooms, what's that AOL thing that lets you know when someone else is logged on at the same time?"

"Instant Messenger," he answered distractedly.

"See? It would be easy for you to stay friends. He doesn't need you for a-- guide anymore, does he?" she asked belatedly.

Ah. The $64,000 question. Did Jim still need him? He said he did. But how much of that was part of the penance thing? When was the last time Jim had zoned, or had problems with his senses? Hell, Jim had spent a couple of nights talking to a ghost and had handled it with ease. If that hadn't shaken him, nothing would. Okay. Then if Jim didn't need him, did he need Jim? It was painfully obvious that if he did get his doctorate, it certainly wouldn't be for anything involving sentinels. Been there, done that, had the headlines to prove it. No, he'd focus on something practical. Like that bogus story they'd told people about him researching the thin blue line. He had notes on that already. Three years as an observer. One year on the force. Yeah. He was an expert on police subculture. So, no. He didn't need Jim. Not professionally anyway.

But what about the intangibles, the things he needed Jim for that defied simple understanding-- like the warmth of knowing someone worried when he was late, or the casual way Jim checked his vitals, warning him if his temperature spiked or his chest was congested? What about having a friend who could sense his emotional state, leaving him to sit on the balcony in peace, or laying his hand on a burdened shoulder when he needed to be reminded he wasn't alone? Those weren't things that could occur over the internet.

Yet, maybe the time for penance was over. All this sacrifice really wasn't healthy, and Naomi's arrival had shown him just what kind of anger was still burning. Would the resentment just keep growing until it exploded into a scene uglier than the previous one?

"Baby?"

Blair shivered. "You've given me a lot to think about, Mom. These people aren't standing by the phone waiting for my call, are they?"

"No. But if you want to enroll for the fall semester, they'll need an answer soon."

He nodded. "Well, this isn't a decision I can make on my own. Whether Jim needs me or not, we're still partners. I just can't up and leave him with a wave and an email address."

"Okay." She got up and headed toward his room, where she always stayed when she visited, then she took a few steps back to give him a hug. "Just remember that, no matter how close the two of you are, it's your life, Blair."

Blair threw his head back, and closed his eyes.

Chapter Two

Jim hated the rigamarole he had to go through to get his gun through the security gates at the airport, so he usually left it in his glove compartment unless he was there on business. But remembering the fear he'd heard in Carolyn's voice, he thought it best to keep his weapon close at hand. His ex was not prone to unwarranted panic. Actually, he couldn't think of a lover he'd had who was. No, no nervous fillies for him, he thought, laughing as he imagined Carolyn's response if he ever said anything like that out loud. She would deck him so fast....

Jim made note of the flight number on the overhead monitors. He surveyed the others waiting around him, and found no threat. Good. He had time. Soon after Blair had moved in, and all the Sentinel 'training' had started, the kid had attended some conference his grant had paid for. Although he'd never admitted it, he was nervous about being separated from Blair, so he'd offered to shuttle him to and from the airport. While waiting for Blair's return flight, he'd anticipated what tests were in his future. The kid focused a lot on his hearing, thought it was maybe his strongest sense. As a lark, Jim had tried to concentrate on the voices in the air traffic control tower he could see from the window.

The sounds of people talking around him, the planes landing and taking off, even the maintenance worker buffing the floors had faded as he narrowed his search. His hearing finally latched onto a faint beeping, then expanded to include conversations and words like, "Two-niner, you are go for takeoff." Damn. He'd actually done it…and it'd scared the shit out of him. The resulting panic had all his senses spiking way off the scales for a few wild moments, but the exercise had given him an inkling of-- no, an appreciation for-- what he was, maybe for the first time. He had used his senses on the job and in Blair's tests, but that one quick foray into the tower had laid it out for him in clear, easy-to-read letters: he was a Sentinel. Later, he'd come back and repeated the exercise many times, at first to perfect it, then to re-establish who he was after he'd royally screwed up this or that. Blair thought that when Jim needed down time, he went to the park or maybe paced off the shoreline around the bay, and Jim deliberately left his partner with those misconceptions. This display of power, this confirmation of what he truly was, was meant only for him, for Jim Ellison, who rarely thought of himself as special.

Choosing a corner chair, brick wall to his back and left side, he drifted away from the waiting area and found his way to the control tower. He matched the flight numbers to the ones he'd memorized on the Arrivals/Departures board, smiled at a raucous joke one of the controllers told, and listened to the gentle blipping of the radar panels. When Carolyn's flight was given the okay to land, he withdrew his hearing from the high tower and focused on the assigned runway. He heard the wheels hit the tarmac, bounce twice, then settle into a smooth glide, which finally led the plane to its gate.

The first time he'd come back to his "normal" senses, Sandburg had been fussing over him, trying to decipher what he'd zoned on. Subsequent visits to the airport had him palming a straight pin in such a way that if he drifted too far, the prick of the pin dragged him back to his physical body. Eventually, he didn't need the pin, mastering the exercise so well that he could switch back and forth between the control tower and wherever he was physically with only the slightest thought. Mastered. The word sounded good, felt good. He could take the slack-jawed stares off into space, the blinding lights and blaring sounds, even the humiliation of succumbing to badly bottled water, because he knew he had the airport and the control tower. God, the very thought of planes had kept him from bowing his head in shame more than once.

But it was this same mastering which was the second reason why he hadn't shared any of this with his partner. Blair would take this to mean that he had mastered being a Sentinel, and that was as far from the truth as night was from day. Just because he'd learned one strategy, didn't mean he was ready to command the whole army. Especially when the rules of engagement kept changing. Like communicating with ghosts. Where the hell-- pardon the pun-- had that come from?

He stood when he heard the crew open the door to the plane. As the stewards and stewardesses said cheerful, but oh-so-memorized, goodbyes to the departing passengers, Jim wondered if he could glom onto Carolyn, but realized that would be impossible unless she spoke. Unlike with Blair, or even Simon, he had no markers for Carolyn. She'd left like six months after his senses had come online; he'd had no chance to imprint her onto his sensory memory. But amazingly, he was able to key in on her-- her pounding, almost frantic heartbeat caught his attention long before the familiar form stepped through the door.

Then she was in his arms, and he realized he'd imprinted her after all, his heart lurching painfully at just how familiar-- how good and right-- it felt to be near her again. Damn. He knew he had missed her when she'd moved out of the loft, remembered how he had scrubbed, and deodorized, and boxed things until her scent was gone-- only to fall asleep with a forgotten sweater clutched tightly in his hand. But this was the first time he realized he'd missed running into her at the station, or even just in Cascade. Whoa, Ellison. Remember she's your *ex* wife.

Carolyn didn't want to leave the comfort of Jim's strong embrace. For the first time since she'd looked at her computer screen and realized just what it was she was looking at, she felt safe. But Jim wasn't big on public displays of affection, and it was bad enough that she'd disturbed him at home, considering how little down time she knew a Major Crime detective had. Besides, she wasn't some prissy miss who longed for a brawny man to come and take care of her problems, even if his arms were like the oaks that stood outside her family home in Bellingham-- trees which had cradled her weight when she needed to retreat from the world, or when she needed to make contact with the world once more. It was odd how the trees had been able to convey home and distance at the same time. But she'd left the trees behind her long ago, just as she'd left this man. She took a deep breath, and reluctantly released him.

He allowed her to pull away only enough to see her face before his arms stopped her. She looked at him questioningly. "Do you want me to let go?" Jim asked softly.

Carolyn blinked, her head turning to indicate the people moving around them.

"I asked you, not them, Carrie," he chided gently.

Warmth flooded through her when he used the name only he was allowed to use. The first time he'd called her Carrie, she had complained, saying she felt like she should be wearing pink and batting her eyelashes when someone called her that. He'd laughed, and told her that apparently she hadn't seen the same movie he'd seen as a teen. He'd thus gained the privilege of using Carrie in private.

In answer to his question, she took a step, and slumped forward, almost in a collapse. He caught her without complaint, and she pictured herself being held in the embrace of solid, oaken limbs. She luxuriated in the sensation for several long minutes, depending on him for total support, and he shifted not one inch. Her heart rate slowed to normal, and the unbridled fear which had precipitated the nearly animalistic flight from Oregon settled into something tolerable, and maybe even manageable.

When she pulled away the second time, Jim's arms dropped away without hesitation. "Any luggage?" he asked, as they headed out of the concourse area.

Carolyn shook her head, her shoulder-length red hair bouncing with the movement. "I'm sort of new at this 'fleeing for your life' bit. Next time I'll try to remember to pack a bag."

Jim's hand settled comfortingly against the small of her back. "Are you fleeing for your life?"

She gave a disgusted snort. "I honestly don't know, Jimmy. Something told me to run, so I did. But now, now I'm starting to feel stupid--"

"Don't," he said, pulling his badge as he approached the security station again. "You carrying?"

"I'm not a cop anymore."

"You carrying?" he asked again.

"No." It'd never dawned on her to arm herself. She really needed to work on a list of what to do when she became a Kimball, as the kids called being a fugitive these days. And they said education was dead.

They cleared security and headed toward the main doors. "Don't what?" she asked, picking up their previous conversation. "Don't feel stupid? Too late, I'm afraid."

"Don't second-guess your instincts. Sometimes they're the only thing between you and death. If you sensed you were in danger, then you probably were, or are. I didn't see anyone suspicious getting off the plane, and we haven't been followed so far. If you had a tail, I'm thinking you lost it. Do they have any idea where you were headed?"

"I don't think so. I didn't use my real name at the airport, and I paid cash for the ticket. Actually," she added, looking away guiltily, "it was your cash. I used my old ATM card."

"The Carolyn Ellison one? Good. That's certainly not a name anyone would recognize."

She checked his words for any sarcasm or acrimony, but there wasn't any. When she'd told him that she had no intention of changing her name after they were married, he'd simply said okay, but she'd thought he'd just been humoring a nervous bride. However, she now saw that it really hadn't bothered him at all. "I'll pay you back," she said, earning herself the infamous Ellison stare. Out of all the wild things she had, or hadn't told him, this was what pissed him off? Alice, you're definitely in Wonderland now.

"Did you obscure your face at the ATM?"

Shit. The security cams. "I wasn't thinking," she admitted, angry at herself for being so stupid. How long did you work with the cops, Caro?

"It'll take a while for them to go through all the tapes, if that's the way they're going to find you. So, no serious damage was done," he assured her, as he urged her toward the truck.

She eyed the two-toned "classic" with fond humor. "You didn't."

"I did," he said proudly.

"I can't believe you finally got it up and running."

"You know me, Plummer. I like to finish what I start."

It was one of the few personal glimpses he'd let her see during their brief union. He'd told her how he'd started working on the truck his senior year in high school, paying for it and whatever parts it needed with his own money. Then the separation from his family had forced him to stow the truck away in a seldom-used garage behind a friend's house. When he'd returned to Cascade over a decade later, the truck had been waiting.

"But don't tell anyone the significance of it, okay? They just think it's the only thing I could afford the insurance on."

She waited for him to unlock the door. "Still hiding your sentimental side, huh?"

"Not really." Before moving aside to let her pass, he pulled out a dusty gym bag from the narrow space behind the seat. He motioned for her to open it, revealing a set of clothes and other essentials. "Just in case I need to listen to my instincts one day," he said softly.

She understood that he was showing her that he wasn't just humoring her, that he really did know what she was going through. "Mind if I borrow your list?" she asked, as he carefully tucked the bag away, then helped her in.

"I'll make you a copy."

*****

"A truck stop?" Carolyn asked, as she and Jim crossed the large parking lot. When he'd said they were going somewhere to talk, she had assumed-- hell, she didn't know what she'd assumed, but it hadn't been a truck stop off the Interstate.

"It's about the only place in America where if a woman screams, somebody might actually come to her aid," Jim explained.

She watched his eyes sweep the restaurant area of the place as they stepped inside. He chose a back booth, obviously not liking the distance from the entrance, but deferring to the need to have his back covered. Besides, there was a fire door less than ten yards away.

"Were you taught these things, or are they life lessons?" Carolyn asked in amazement.

"A little of both." He picked up a menu and grinned. "They have cheese fries," he said reverently.

She rolled her eyes. "What's the big deal, Ellison? You order them at least twice a week at Wonder Burger, don't you?"

Jim shook his head. "The last time I had cheese fries was probably close to a year ago. But I get to go to Wonder Burger once a month, if I eat sensibly the rest of the time."

Carolyn frowned worriedly. Why was Jim watching his diet so closely? It was obvious the man didn't have an ounce of excess fat anywhere on his still fine body. A medical reason? She had been gone for nearly four years. "You been okay, Jimmy? Healthy, I mean?"

"A few bullet holes here and there. A couple of bad knocks upside the head. Nothing out of the ordinary," he said offhandedly. When the waitress came, he ordered coffee for both of them, and the cheese fries. Carolyn shook her head when he looked at her inquiringly.

"If you haven't been sick, why the change in diet?" she persisted, after the waitress walked away.

Jim shrugged. "Just one of the many changes I've had to make the past several years. I'm older; it takes a lot more effort to keep fit."

She didn't buy that answer for the minute it took him to say it, but she decided to let it dangle for a while. There were far more important differences in her ex that she wanted to discuss. "Is one of those changes increased patience? Ever since I spotted you in the airport, I've been waiting for you to explode with, 'Tell me what's going on, Plummer!' Don't tell me you've gotten the reins on your infamous temper, too? If that's the case, I've really stepped into the Twilight Zone."

He started humming the familiar theme song, then grinned. "Don't worry. I'm continuing to finance my dentist's annual pilgrimage to Europe, and Simon still won't let me interrogate a prisoner without a ten-minute lecture on conduct."

She wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. "Whew. For a moment there, I thought the world had stopped rotating."

"Keep it up, Plummer, and I won't share my cheese fries," he threatened.

She stuck out her tongue at him, grinning wryly as the waitress brought their coffee. She took a sip, then focused on the rising steam. "Guess I might as well get it over with, huh?"

"Your story, Carolyn. Take whatever time you need. There's no immediate danger."

Another sip of the hot brew. "Simon send you to sensitivity class?"

Jim chuckled. "Having Sandburg as a partner has taught me a few tricks."

"So, you're still together?"

"He's a detective now, my full partner."

"Detective Sandburg, not Doctor Sandburg?"

Jim looked at her in mild surprise. "I thought you would have heard about what happened last year. I know you still have a lot of friends in the department."

"I know there was something going on, but that was around the time I was making the move to Oregon, so I was a hard person to catch up with. By the time I was settled enough to sit down and have real conversations with my friends, the topic never came up. Which, come to think of it, is strange, considering that 'dishing the ex' is SOP."

"Ah, female bonding rituals," Jim said in a stage whisper, with an amused glint in his eye. "Either they thought you knew and were respecting your silence on the matter, or they were so damned confused, they didn't know how to broach the subject," he guessed. He smiled at the waitress as she set the fries in front of him. "It's a long, ugly story, Caro, and I'd rather not get into it until after we figure out just how much danger you're in. The short of it is that Sandburg was kicked out of Rainier, and now he's a Major Crime detective. He's still my partner, and we're still living together, which means he's going to end up as involved in this as I am. Is that going to be a problem?"

"Of course not. What's one more person to look foolish in front of?" she asked wryly.

"I reserve the right to make my own call on the subject."

"Fine." She took a deep breath, and the coffee cup shook in her hand. She set it down, and reached for a fry instead. "GenoTech is mainly a pharmaceutical company. Product tampering remains a major concern in that industry, and basically my job is to make sure that doesn't happen. I oversee the quality control procedures, personally handling the security of the networks that do most of the final processing. You know, I didn't know how much I enjoyed police work until I left it. But the pay is astronomical, my police background being a compensatory plus with the Board of Directors.

"But GenoTech is also a bioresearch facility. I don't know much about that part of the operation. There have been rumors that it's deep into bioengineering, and there were a couple of long-running jokes about what to do if we found a six-headed goat running down the hall one day." She grinned. "You know the kind of workplace humor I'm talking about, Jim."

He nodded. "Dan Wolf has some real zingers." Wolf was the Cascade medical examiner.

"Morgue humor. I've missed that," Carolyn murmured, as she tried to order her thoughts. "Anyway, I think I would have preferred seeing the goat."

"What did you see instead?"

She looked up, her eyes unfocused as she gazed into her recent past. "It was a stupid accident. I spilled my coffee. Thankfully, my keyboard is the kind that has the plastic 'skin' covering it, so there wasn't any permanent damage. I grabbed a handful of tissues to daub at the mess. It was all so random." She paused, reached for a fry, then started to withdraw her hand. Jim extended his own hand, and wrapped it around her smaller one, giving her the strength she needed to continue.

"Somehow I managed to 'daub' in a password, or maybe even a command. The screen suddenly filled with information, and I was reading even before I realized what I was doing."

A shudder snaked through their connected hands. "What did you read, Caro?"

"I knew I was in deep shit when the words started disappearing off the screen. A complete wipe. The only thing I could think of doing was grabbing my purse and getting the hell out of there. I tried to think of somewhere to go, someone who I could tell, who wouldn't think I was crazy, who had the background to understand what I'd seen." Her eyes locked onto his. "Someone I could trust."

"Always, Carrie. Tell me."

She took a deep breath. "How up are you on bioterrorism, Jim?"

*****

Gerald Freer walked into the office of his CO, and waited patiently to be acknowledged. He knew it was a game the old man was playing. All the old dogs had to piss on the furniture every now and again.

"Situation?" John Lambert asked, the anger clearly evident in his voice.

"We lost her, sir."

"Excuse me?"

Freer dug his nails into his palm to keep from telling his boss to fuck off. That would definitely violate company policy. "We lost her. We didn't expect her to react so fast. She was out of the building before we could reach her station, and out of the parking lot before we could tail her. We've staked out her apartment as well as Walker's. She hasn't shown at either."

"I assume you did possess the intelligence to put out an APB on her license plate?"

"We've come up empty so far, sir. I--" Freer's pocket began buzzing, and he withdrew a cell phone. He listened without comment, then replaced the compact device. "Her car has just been located at the airport. My people are running a check of the scheduled flights."

"Check the rental companies as well. She might have merely changed cars."

Wanna tell me to make sure I wipe the next time I take a shit, too? "Yes, sir. Anything else?"

Lambert glared at his younger associate. "Just find her. If she's running, she knows exactly what she read. That information can't get out. You know that."

"Yes, sir. But--" Freer knew this was a risk, but he couldn't let the opportunity pass.

"But?"

"Well, we've been looking for an opportunity to conduct a field test, sir."

"And you think--"

"We will need to eliminate her and whatever contacts she's made, sir."

A hesitant nod. "However, this all depends on you finding her."

"Consider it done, sir."

Chapter Three

"Where was Jim running off to so quickly?" Naomi asked, fresh from the shower. "Late for a date?"

"Something like that. His ex-wife called and wanted to meet with him," Blair replied, still holding the letter from Duke in his hand.

"A good ex-wife, or a bad one?"

Blair smiled. "Carolyn's okay, Mom."

"You know her?"

"She worked for the department, then left for a better gig in San Francisco. Jim says she's in Oregon now."

"You're completely indoctrinated, aren't you?" Naomi questioned sadly.

"Meaning?"

"'The Department'. You say it with almost holy reverence."

Thanks to you, The Department has been my life for the past year, he wanted to shout. Instead, he ignored the comment. "Carolyn and I got along okay. I had to interview her about Jim a couple of times. Man, that pissed him off royally."

"Why? Unlike the rest of us, he knew your dissertation was about him."

"That's what I thought, too. Simon tried to explain it to me later, although I never really did get a grasp on the idea. Interviewing Jim's friends, co-workers, even his family, is acceptable. But interviewing an 'ex' is a betrayal."

"Why? That doesn't make sense, honey."

Blair shrugged. "Since neither of us has ever been married, Naomi, maybe it's not supposed to make sense to us. God knows, Jim probably couldn't make sense of most of the relationships you've been in." He gave a soft gasp as he realized how that sounded. "I didn't mean anything by that, Mom."

"My presence is upsetting you, Blair. Perhaps I should--"

"We've been over this. I want you here, but you can't expect me to deal with all of this in an hour or two. You've given me some major stuff to think about."

"Then, let's think about it together." She plopped down in the center of the room, and held out her hand. "Come, meditate with me."

He shook his head. "I'm not quite there yet, Naomi. I couldn't sit still if I tried. You go ahead, though. I'm going to go out on the balcony for a while."

She watched him go, watched him stand out there and...meditate. Not in the typical fashion he'd learned at her side, but the "Ellison" way. She'd seen Jim out on that balcony before, standing so utterly still that even the pigeons weren't disturbed by his presence. Standing the way Blair was standing now. So now, everything was done Jim's way, was it? Maybe she shouldn't have left Blair alone for a year. But she had badly disrupted his life, and he had needed the space. The whole "give Blair a badge" farce had not concerned her much. She knew her child, knew he wouldn't be able to fit into the regimented discipline police work demanded. Sure, he'd managed before, but he'd been able to go "around" the rules because he'd merely been an observer. She'd figured that by the time she'd managed to straighten out the mess she'd caused, he'd be more than ready for her assistance.

However, it appeared he was fitting in better than she'd thought. He seemed to be comfortable with the shorter hair, and his eyes were the clearest blue she'd seen in a long time. Not a storm cloud of gray in them. His aura was also unshadowed, still flaring brightest when he was next to Jim. Naomi bit her lip. She hadn't unwittingly opened up another can of worms, had she? At this rate, he was going to start shutting the door in her face. No. He needed to do this. He needed to get away from the cops and back to where he belonged. He was too intelligent, too caring to be a cop. Maybe they hadn't killed his spirit in a year, but they would. Of that, she had no doubt. Sighing, she settled into a meditative state.

*****

With a shiver, Blair realized he'd been out on the balcony for quite a while. He looked around the narrow, almost barren ledge and wondered for at least the millionth time why the space was so damned conducive to thinking. When he'd first moved in, he would get comfortable on the living room floor and drift away to clarity. He'd tried to get Jim to follow, and as long as it was something connected to his Sentinel abilities, Jim suffered the exercise with a grim jaw and even grimmer determination. But when it came to deep thought-- as a cop, or just as a man-- Jim resorted to standing out on the balcony. Blair figured it was a sensory thing, but after a particularly frustrating day at the university, he'd found himself too wired to find his center. So, he'd stepped out onto the balcony, and found a place of harmony. Maybe it was the alignment of the building, or it was located atop some sacred spot, but Blair was of the opinion that the Sentinel had somehow manipulated the elements to form a haven for himself and his Guide. Fanciful thoughts, sure, but the idea of a Sentinel was just as fanciful to some.

In the distance, he heard a phone ringing. He opened the door, grinned at his mother meditating between the two sofas, and grabbed the cordless. "Sandburg."

"Yo, Hair Boy!"

Blair rolled his eyes. The haircut hadn't discouraged Brown at all. "Whatever it is, the answer is 'no', H. Jim and I are not coming in for anything short of a nuclear disaster. We've been doing double shifts for two weeks thanks to this early summer flu bug going around. Tonight is ours!"

"Chill, man. Just wanted to know if you guys were going to hit Hanlon's tonight. We're gonna watch the Jags' playoffs game. Wouldn't seem the same without you and Jim."

Blair grinned. "You mean without our money. Sorry, H., but my mom's here, and Jim's off running an errand." He figured if Jim wanted them to know Carolyn was in town, he'd let them know. "You'll just have to find someone else's paycheck to steal."

"You're breaking my heart, Hair Boy. All my bets are on the up and up."

"That may be, but H., you even bet on the free throws. You should know that we're seriously considering tossing your ass into a recovery program."

"You and what army?"

"I wouldn't say that too loudly around Jim. He'd probably call in a few commando friends of his, and--"

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture," Brown said, with a nervous laugh. "Scary thing is, he'd probably do it."

"Our Jim wants only the best for his friends," Blair agreed. "So, go easy with the betting, man, or you will find yourself doing how ever many steps it takes to break you of gambling."

A moment of silence. "I think I'll skip Hanlon's tonight. Heard there's a pretty good special on the Discovery Channel happening anyway."

"Riiight," Blair said, unconvinced.

"Scout's honor, Blair. Something about jungle cats."

"No shit?" Blair scanned the room for the TV Guide. Sometimes he wondered why they even bought it anymore. When they had time to sit down in front of the tube, he and Jim usually just surfed until something interesting came on screen. He spotted the small magazine on top of the television-- where it belonged. Thank God for anal roommates. "You're right. It does sound interesting. I didn't know you were into cats, man."

"Only the big, badass ones. Something about their eyes, and the way they move. One minute, they barely acknowledge your existence, and the next, they have you by the throat. Scary as hell, but fascinating, you know?"

You want scary and fascinating, H.? Try living with one. "I hear you, man. I need to check and see how many packs of popcorn are left," he mumbled mostly to himself.

"What do you think of that new low salt brand they have? I--"

"H.?"

"Yeah?"

"What is it that you're avoiding doing by talking to me?"

"The captain's on the phone, and when he hangs up, he's going to come to the door and make an assignment."

"So, you're looking busy?"

"Exactly."

Blair could picture the black man hunched over the phone, pen in his hand as if he was taking notes. "What about your partner?"

"Rafe's pecking his way through a report. I don't know why he doesn't use those looks of his to get one of the women to do his typing."

"It's a good thing Megan's back in Australia. She'd hand you your head, then tell you where to cram it for making a comment like that," Blair warned with a laugh. He'd be upset if he thought Brown meant what he said, but he'd seen the man work with women. Total respect. He was just trying to goad his partner.

"I wouldn't even think something like that around her," Brown assured him. "Oh, good. The assignment's going to Richardson and Dills. Guess I'll let you get back to your mom."

"Glad I could be of help. Take care, man." Blair clicked the phone off, and reread the blurb in the TV Guide before heading toward the kitchen. Definitely a popcorn kind of show. Hmm. And maybe some baby vegetables?

Before he could check the refrigerator, the phone rang again. "Yeah," he answered, then grinned. Boy, he'd been around Jim too long.

"Is this the Ellison residence?"

Definitely don't like your attitude, man. "Who would you like to speak to?" he asked politely, but firmly.

"I'm looking for a Detective James Ellison."

"He's not in. May I take a message?"

"Actually, we're looking for Carolyn Plummer. We're concerned about her whereabouts, and she's indicated that Detective Ellison be contacted in case of an emergency."

"'We' who, man?" Blair didn't like the sound of this. And he really didn't like the silence his question provoked. "Listen, I'll tell the dude that you're looking for his ex-old lady, 'kay? You wanna leave a number or somethin'?" When in doubt, act stupid.

"Uh, we'll just call later when Detective Ellison is in."

"Whatever, dude. 'Bye."

Blair stared at the phone for a long moment. Damn. Apparently Jim's instincts were right on the nose again.

Yep. They were definitely going to need vegetables.

*****

Jim laughed.

Carolyn stared at him, wondering if she should be angry, or concerned. "You find bioterrorism humorous? Or is it your crazy ex-wife that has you amused?" she asked, her lips thinning bitterly.

"Neither. I'm just trying to figure out what you call a trouble-magnet magnet." She arched an eyebrow. "Inside joke, but Carrie, you have to admit this isn't normal. Most people seek their ex-husbands because they're being stalked by some psycho, or blackmailed by the pool boy, or they owe their bookie several grand--"

"You've been watching too many movies," she chided, as she started to see the humor, too.

He shook his head. "You'd probably only find this situation in the movies."

"I wish this was a movie-- then I could walk out of it in two hours."

He squeezed her hand. "We might not make that time limit, but we'll walk out of it. Tell me what you saw."

"It was a summary report on the expected costs, casualties, etc."

"Was a specific biological agent named?"

"No, but there was something about incubation periods, so I'm assuming it's biological and not chemical."

"What stage do they appear to be in? Research, development, production, or deployment?"

She frowned, trying to remember. "Definitely past the R & D stage. Since everything was qualified by the word 'expected', I would say they hadn't done a deployment yet-- at least not one in the field. So, I guess we're left with 'in production.'"

"Any mention of who was requesting this report? If it's a known hate group, or paramilitary anti-government organization, we can determine who the target population will be. That will go a long way in narrowing the list of possible agents," Jim explained.

"I don't think that's who we're looking for," Carolyn said slowly, almost apologetically. "There was a government funding code at the bottom." She'd filed enough reports to recognize the peculiar arrangement of numbers and letters.

"Shit. That opens a whole 'nother can of worms, because now we're talking biological warfare, not terrorism."

"There's a difference?" she asked skeptically.

"Of course," he scolded gently, with a wry turn of his lip. "Terrorists use the weapons to destroy; governments use them to protect. Gee, Caro, don't you know anything?"

"I know your familiarity with this is scaring me to death."

"The modern soldier has to be familiar with modern warfare. There are only so many ways to make things go boom. Besides, there's nothing left to play with when things go boom. But if you kill off just the biological entities--"

"Stop!" She took a deep breath, and convinced the cheese fries to stay where they were. "Biological entities? People, Jimmy. Living, breathing people."

"Not if we can help it. See, only the bad people will die."

Her eyes flashed at him furiously. "Bullshit!"

Jim shrugged. "Yeah, now you know why I had to get out."

"Do people really think that way?"

"Yes. I did for a while. I truly believed that anything that ended war was good, that ten dead was better than ten million. Just think of it, Carolyn. Kill a roomful of people with a biological weapon, and suddenly governments are willing to negotiate."

"Or blow you off the map."

"Not if you're a 'good' government, a superpower. Dropping the atom bomb might have dulled our armor a bit, but we were still considered the good guys."

She stared at her former husband. "If you believed all that, what made you change your mind?"

"For eighteen months I lived with a people who were basically expendable. Few in number, non-existent technical skills, no marketable abilities whatsoever. They couldn't even be considered cheap labor because the language and cultural differences were too great. Did you know I had orders to stop the insurgency by any means necessary, including destroying the entire forest, and the expendable Chopec, if I had to?"

"And?"

"And I discovered they weren't expendable at all."

His eyes grew distant, as if maybe he was back in the jungle. That was a part of his life he hadn't shared with her at all. He'd claimed it was classified, but his reluctance to talk about the experience at all had Carolyn wondering who had classified it- the government or Jim.

"Is there anyone back in Oregon who might be contacted about your whereabouts?"

"I haven't really made a lot of friends there. Managing the ones I have here in Cascade and San Francisco is almost too much," she said, only partially joking. "They might contact Robert, though."

"Robert?"

"Robert Walker. He and I dated a time or two. But...." Carolyn hesitated, then figured the new and improved Jim Ellison wouldn't go ballistic on her. "Remember the comment you made about ex-wives and stalkers?"

"Seriously?"

"No, not really. I mean, not to the point that I had to get a restraining order or anything. It's just that he got a little intense and it freaked me out a bit."

"How long ago?"

"It's been a couple of months since I've received anything from him, or seen him near my apartment. But my co-workers know I dated him, and if someone from the company office asked...."

"Would Walker suspect you'd come here if you were in trouble?"

"I don't know. It's not like we sat down one evening and discussed where we'd run to if we were being chased, but Robert is quite intelligent. He knows my ex-husband is a cop. He knows that I missed Cascade. He could make the connections. Also--"

He frowned at the pause. "Cards on the table, Carolyn," he prompted.

"You're listed as my emergency contact in my file at work." She grimaced. "God, that's going to lead them right here, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily. Just because I'm your contact person doesn't mean I'm the one you'd come to for help. By the way, why am I your contact person?"

Carolyn shrugged sheepishly. "I went down to the office at the Cascade P.D. to change the information after our divorce. That's when it hit me that if something did happen to me, I would want you to be the one to tell my parents, not some stranger."

"What about your folks? Are they likely to be contacted?"

"Robert knows that they are alive and well in Bellingham, but all Mom and Dad could tell anyone is that I called them last Christmas."

"Carolyn!"

"What?" He glared at her. "So, when was the last time you talked to them?"

"A couple of months ago. It was your dad's birthday, remember?"

"Shit," she muttered. "Well, they always liked you better than me anyway."

"Paul and Louise are good to me, but you're their daughter."

"Which means they have to love me, but they adore you, Jimmy," Carolyn said, smiling to let him know she wasn't angry about it. "Remember what happened when I called Mom and told her that I'd moved out, and we were getting a divorce? I got a lecture. You got a visit and a casserole."

"Well, the adoration goes both ways," he admitted.

"When's the last time you saw them?" she asked curiously. "Are they really doing okay?"

"They're fine. Sandburg and I had to drop off a prisoner in Bellingham three or four months ago. We stopped by to invite them to lunch. Instead, Louise whipped up a five-course meal in about fifteen minutes. Sandburg was in awe, and when he asked Louise for a recipe, her eyes just lit up the whole house."

"Great. Now there's two of you. I'll have to tell Wendy," she griped, wondering if she even had her sister's phone number.

"Wen already knows. She refers to Blair as 'beloved Baby Brother Blair', and happily abdicated her right to being the youngest child. She's older by two months, but you'd never be able to tell if you get them in the same room. Both act about sixteen."

Carolyn shook her head. She knew that Jim truly liked her family, but she had no idea he'd gotten custody of them in the divorce. "I think I'm jealous."

"Because of their youth? Don't be. Sometimes being mature can be a blessing."

She shook her fist at him. "Mature this, Ellison." He snorted. "And I'm not jealous of their youth; I'm jealous of you."

"Me?"

"Envious is probably a better word. You get along so well with my family."

"And barely speak to my own," he reminded her.

"Barely speak? You've gotten that far?" When William Ellison hadn't shown up at their wedding, she'd written him off. At least Steven had sent a gift.

"Two different murder cases brought Steven and Dad into my world, and we've been reluctant to let the connection go. Guess it's part of that maturity thing," he said with an embarrassed shrug.

"May I mature with such grace," she said admiringly. "You don't think Mom and Dad are going to be dragged into this, do you? Or Wendy?"

"I'm going to do my best to make sure that doesn't happen. When we get home, maybe we'll give them a call to let them know you're okay, but not to reveal your location." She looked at him strangely. "What?"

"When we get home? You know something I don't, Ellison?"

Jim started to apologize, explain that he should have said his home, then he realized that he meant exactly what he'd said. Carolyn would always have a home with him, as would her family. Maybe it was a Sentinel thing, a tribal instinct. He stood and held out his hand. "I know home is more than just the place where you currently reside. I know it means more than just a structure, that it also means the people who are there with you."

"You do know something I don't," she murmured, as they walked out together. "Think you can teach me?"

"I'll do even better than that, Carrie. I'll take you home to my teacher."

Chapter Four

Blair was chopping vegetables into dipping-sized pieces when he heard the key in the lock. He looked up, smiling at the duo. "Hey, Carolyn! It's good to see you." He hadn't gotten to know her very well before her departure from Cascade, but what he did know, he liked. She'd also been nicely cooperative when he'd interviewed her about Jim for the aborted dissertation. Aborted. Yeah, guess that was the word for it. No. Actually it was more of a miscarriage or even a still-birth, because the thing had been fully formed-- it just hadn't survived the rocky trip down the birth canal. Nope, wrong again. The abortion analogy was much closer to the truth. He had, in fact, deliberately chosen its demise. Ah, the joys of pro-choice. And what universe are we visiting today, Sandburg?

"Hi, Blair. I'm sorry to interrupt your evening off like this--"

He shook his head, his eyes following Jim around the room as the Sentinel put the chain on the door, then proceeded to check the locks on the other doors and windows. "Family is never an interruption-- as evidenced by the woman meditating in the living room. That's my mom, by the way."

"Jimmy didn't tell me you already had a guest. I can--"

"Squeeze in here like everyone else." Blair smiled at her. "Jim likes to keep endangered members of his tribe close."

"His tribe?"

"Yeah, you know...." He looked at the confusion in her eyes. "You don't know, do you? I just assumed--"

"That I know what went on here last year? Jim said it was a long story, but that it ended with you becoming a cop."

"Yeah, well, Fate has her own agenda. You have any preference in dips? Thanks to last week's poker game, we have quite an assortment. By the way, I like your longer hair."

She smiled. "And I like your shorter 'do. They make you cut it at the academy?"

"Nah. It was my choice." He gave Jim a questioning glance when the larger man joined them in the kitchen. Jim nodded slightly, and Blair reached out a hand to lay on his arm. The Sentinel was in full protect mode, needing his Guide to ground him while he scanned the immediate vicinity for danger.

"Anything low fat is fine with me," she answered, rolling a shoulder to ease a twinge.

Jim noticed the movement, and put his hands on her shoulders, grimacing at the knots he found there. "You're so tense. Go take a hot shower. I'll bring you something to change into. The towels are in the usual place, and there are new toothbrushes in the cabinet."

"But shouldn't we be doing something?" she asked, still anxious.

"Not tonight, sweetheart. We'll get a good night's sleep, and tackle the problem fresh in the morning." He gave her a quick hug. "It's really the best way."

"Toothbrushes, huh? You house a lot of endangered tribe members here?"

"You'd be surprised," Blair said. "We even had a bona fide TV star here for a few days."

"Don't remind me," Jim groaned. "Better yet, don't remind my stomach."

"I don't even think I want to go there," Carolyn said with a grin. "You never cared much for my cooking either."

"I knew Vince's cooking tasted familiar," Jim said, ducking as Carolyn lightly swung in his direction.

"I'm going to take a shower. I know when I'm being insulted," she said, smiling to let them know she was teasing.

"Somebody called looking for her," Blair said, when he heard the bathroom door shut. He motioned for Jim to get the dip out of the fridge. "I played the airhead and bluffed my way through the conversation."

"Good catch, Chief. We figured they'd call here. Just didn't think it would be so soon." Jim sighed and ran his fingers across his head.

"How deep is the shit, man?" Blair's eyes flickered over to his mother as he made sure she was still in her own little world.

"Deep enough to suffocate in if we're not careful," Jim answered honestly. "How long is Naomi planning on hanging around?"

"Why? Could this spill over onto her?"

"It's possible. A lot depends on the players."

Blair set down the knife. "Why don't you tell me about the game?"

Jim told him what little details he had. "I'll start making some calls tomorrow, try to find out just how covert this operation is. You know, when I thought it was just some run-of-the-mill, wanna-be terrorists group like the Sunrise Patriots who was developing this thing--"

"Or a purely mercenary bitch like Alex," Blair supplied.

"Or a purely mercenary bitch like Alex, I thought we had a chance to nip this in the bud. We just had to be smarter, quicker--

"Less insane."

Jim rolled his eyes at his 'helpful' partner. "Less insane than the other guy. Now, it's a lot more complicated. These people aren't blind followers or looking to make a quick deal. They're fully funded and legitimized by the 'the government.'"

"I'll give Jack Kelso a call," Blair offered. "If he doesn't know anything, maybe he can point us in a few directions. Actually, Mom might be able to help us, too. She has some friends who would have a field day with this kind of information."

"No field days, Chief. What we're looking for is a quiet agreement between parties."

"You're not be serious, are you? You can't let them get away with this, Jim. Biological weapons are a danger to the entire planet, no matter whose hands they're in."

"Trust me, Sandburg. You don't want to get on the wrong side of the kind of people who are involved in this kind of stuff. They don't play well with others."

"Neither do you."

"That's why I know when I'm out of my league. The best we can hope for, Chief, is to get Carolyn out of this alive."

Blair looked at the white-knuckled grip Jim had on the counter. "You are serious, aren't you, man? What do you know about this that you aren't telling?"

Jim shook his head. "Nothing tangible, that's for damn sure. It's just a feeling."

Blair sighed. "We're not going to have to have that belabored discussion on how important it is to rely on your intuition, are we?"

"No."

"Good. So, what are we feeling, Detective Ellison?" Blair said in his best psychiatrist imitation.

"That this is not going to end well." Jim's eyes focused on something Blair couldn't see. "The last time I had this feeling, I was sitting in a chopper. Then the world exploded."

Blair shivered at the blank stare. He reached out to grip Jim's arm, bringing him back from that desolate place. "It won't this time, Jim. We know how to use the advanced warning system now. We know to heed the warnings. We know to duck."

Jim wiped a hand across his face. "Sure. Let me go get Carolyn something to change into. What's with the finger food? For the playoff game?"

"Actually, there's a special on the Discovery Channel."

"Good. We need the distraction." He walked toward the stairs to his room. "Not to mention the extra sleep."

"Up yours, Ellison. When's the last time you slept through a DC special?"

"I dunno. When was the last time we watched one?"

"Sleeping people don't get to eat their favorite non-salted, non-artificially buttered popcorn. They might choke," Blair subtly threatened.

"Straight for the jugular, Chief?"

"I learned from the master." He bowed to his teacher.

Jim laughed and took the stairs two at a time. "Just remember, Sandburg: it's never good to bite the hand that feeds you."

"Thought that's what I just reminded you of, man."

"How about this one? Payback is a bitch."

"Anytime, any place, Ellison."

"One fight at a time, Chief."

Blair sobered with the reminder of what they were facing. "Jim?" he called. Jim leaned over the railing, something soft in his hands. "I promise you, man. You won't be left alone in the jungle this time."

"God's ear, Chief," Jim replied, abbreviating the oft-used phrase. "I just hope He's listening."

*****

Carolyn stood in the familiar shower letting the hot water rain over her. If she could only let her fear flow away as easily as she sloughed off the perspiration and the scent of travel. Actually, the fear wasn't as bad as it'd been before. What was that saying about sorrow shared being sorrow halved? Well, it seemed to work with fear, too.

Jimmy. She just couldn't get over the changes in him. He'd mellowed, not like some slacker, but like a man more at ease with his place in the world. That was it. The automatic defensiveness was gone. His humor was more genuine, and his teasing was gentle, not laced with the subtle bitterness it'd held before. And what was this "tribe" stuff? At times during their brief marriage, she'd felt like an interloper in the loft-- Jim's home before the wedding. He was an intensely private man, something that had attracted her while they were dating, but annoyed her while they were married. Now, she was hearing that not only did he have a permanent roommate, but he took in strays, strays who came with baggage of the danger kind. What happened to "Mr. Lone Wolf," and what the hell did it have to do with the "long story" from last year?

Then there had been that scene in the kitchen. Blair had touched Jim, and something had happened. The touch had been less than intimate, but more than casual, and Jim had seemed to… fade right before her eyes. In less than a nanosecond, however, everything had righted itself, and she'd been left wondering if she'd imagined the whole incident. But she hadn't. She'd be willing to bet money on it.

So, was it Blair who was causing this? From the very beginning, Blair had been the friendly type, maybe a bit too eager, but affable, and she'd heard him spin a good yarn or two at times. Companionable. That was a good word to describe him. But was he something more? True, he looked less like a New Age groupie than he had in the past, but that didn't mean he wasn't practicing some spiritual voodoo on Jim. If Jim didn't seem so much better adjusted now, she'd be suspicious of Blair and his motives. But she could discern no menace in the man, and God, Jim was obviously doing well. Better than well. And Blair was protective of him. She could see that in the way Blair tracked Jim's movements around the loft. Why? If anyone was capable of taking care of himself, Jimmy was.

Just what was Blair to Jim and vice versa? And what the hell had happened last year? Whatever it was, was the key to everything, she decided as she grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the shower caddy. Herbal. Obviously Blair's, but it also smelled like Jim. Were they both using the same toiletries? That spoke of a relationship that if not intimate, then was closer than just mere roommates. One shared soap with lovers-or relatives.

"I'm leaving you some sweats on the counter," Jim called, startling her. "I remember you used to like to steal them all the time."

"That wasn't stealing," she said, flushing from his nearness although she knew he couldn't see through the opaque shower curtain. "I was just invoking marital privilege."

"Ah. I think we're hitting upon one of the fundamental misunderstandings between men and women. When men think of marital privilege, it has nothing to do with clothes. At least not with putting on clothes."

"It's a wonder the species has lasted this long," Carolyn muttered.

"Have you considered that it's the 'clothes off' mentality which has propelled the species forward?" Jim asked smugly. No reply. "I set out Sandburg's hair dryer for you. Don't drown yourself. We have TV to watch tonight."

"The playoffs, right?"

"Well, actually it's a Discovery Channel special."

She heard the door click behind him. A Discovery Channel special?

Shaking her head in disbelief, she hurried to finish her shower.

*****

Darkness. Pain. Blood. Rivers of blood....

Naomi came back to the terrestrial plane with a gasp, her eyes widened in fright.

"Easy there. Take a deep breath, Naomi."

"You're okay, Mom."

She fell back against a solid surface, arms wrapping around her. She opened her eyes, and found familiar blue ones staring at her in concern. Blair sat back on his haunches, holding her hands. That meant it was Jim she was resting against. Hmm. Better than the trees she used to chain herself to. But she had no time for stray thoughts. "There is danger here, honey," she told her son quickly.

"We know," Blair assured her. "We'll handle it."

"Something happen?" Carolyn asked as she walked out of the bathroom.

"You!" Naomi accused. "You're the source of the danger."

"We know that, too," Jim said soothingly. "Naomi, this is Carolyn Plummer. Carolyn, Naomi Sandburg."

"Carolyn's here for our help, Mom. In fact, Jim and I were thinking maybe you'd like to head to your next destination a little sooner than you were expecting--"

"You're kicking me out, Blair?"

"No one's kicking anyone out, Naomi," Jim said firmly. "We're trying to protect you."

"I'm not leaving my son while he's in danger," Naomi replied adamantly. Just how shallow did he think she was?

"Then maybe I should leave," Carolyn said hastily. "I don't want--"

"Listen to what she has to say, honey," Naomi interrupted.

"Mom, Jim and I are cops. Helping people in trouble is what we do."

"But this isn't your jurisdiction, Blair. I should have stayed in Oregon, and--"

"Enough!" Jim boomed, startling all of them. "Naomi, you're a grown woman. It's your choice to stay or go. Just know that if you stay, I will not tolerate your interference."

"I would never--"

"Don't even try it," Jim said, knowing Naomi's tendency to interpret things her way. "You will not 'help', 'assist', or do anything that you deem 'is for our own good', without first discussing it with me or Blair, then waiting for our approval before you act. Understood?"

"I don't work well within boundaries," Naomi replied defiantly.

"Then leave now. Our door will always be open to you later."

Naomi looked to her son for support. "Honey, you can't let him--"

Blair threw up his hands. "Don't, Mom. This is not only Jim's home, but he's the expert in this situation. What he says, goes."

Naomi pouted, but didn't say anything else.

"And you, Carolyn, are not going anywhere," Jim continued. "You came to me for help. Let me give it." She nodded. "Fine. I'm glad we have everything settled. Turn on the TV, Chief, and let's watch that damned special."

"Nice imitation of Simon," Blair acknowledged two hours later, as he joined Jim at the sink. The older man was cleaning up the remains of their snacks.

"Yeah? I've been monitoring the way he talks, actually the way everyone talks. If I listen closely, I can hear the vibrations of their individual vocal cords, then repeat those vibrations."

"Cool," Blair said excitedly. "Have you ever tried ventriloquism?"

"No, but I can always put you on my knee." He grinned wickedly when his butt was whapped by a dish towel. "Listen, Sandburg. I'm sorry about taking such a hard line with your mom, but--"

"You don't have to apologize, Jim. Maybe if I had been more firm with her last year...."

"Her being back isn't stirring all that up for you, is it?" Jim asked.

Blair sighed, remembering the letter from Duke. "Not the way you think, man. Listen, Jim, we need to talk when all this gets cleared, okay?"

"Is it something we should discuss now?" Jim asked pointedly. Ever since the mess with Alex Barnes, he'd been leery of putting off discussions. If he'd just allowed Blair to tell him about Alex before everything went to hell and back....

"It can wait, man."

"I don't mean to interrupt, guys," Carolyn said, bringing in a glass from the living room, "but I've had a rather full day. If you just tell me where to bunk--"

Jim smiled. "Take your old side of the bed. I'll be up just as soon as I finish down here."

Carolyn arched an eyebrow. "Up to your bed? Are you making assumptions, Detective Ellison?"

Jim turned bright red. "No! I wasn't suggesting-- Hell, Carrie, we aren't teenagers, you know. What happens or doesn't happen-- mphff."

She shushed him with a kiss, which turned into a chuckle. "Well, at least that hasn't changed. You are just too adorable when you're flustered. Good night, Blair, and Naomi," Carolyn added, when she saw Naomi watching them from the sofa.

Jim shook his head as he watched Carolyn ascend the stairs. Still as sharp as ever. Muffled laughter drew him back to the kitchen. "Don't you dare, Chief," he growled.

Blair grinned. "I wasn't going to say a word."

"Suuure you weren't."

"I was just going to tell you that since I'm sleeping on the sofa, I'll be sure to wear my headphones-- just in case you become too adorable to resist."

Jim sighed. "Naomi, I really think a judicial amount of corporal punishment wouldn't have been out of line," he said, as he felt the woman approach.

"Jim! You don't really advocate hitting a child?" Naomi asked, shocked. Then she wondered why she was. After all, Jim was a pi-- cop.

"He's just kidding, Mom," Blair said with certainty. "You should see him around kids. Pure goo."

"You do realize that your mother won't be here forever, and that you're well past your childhood years, don't you, Sandburg?" Jim threatened.

"Jim, if you haven't hit me by now--"

"Who's talking about hitting, partner? Exactly when was the last time we cleaned out the storeroom in the basement?"

"Quick! Go to bed, Ma, before you get me into any more trouble."

Naomi looked at the two grinning men. "You have the most unique relationship," she said with a frown, as she disappeared into her son's room.

"My mom just called us weird, Jim. That's saying a lot coming from her."

"The sad thing is that she doesn't know the half of it, Chief."

Blair shrugged. "As long as we do. Right, man?"

"Right."

*****

"Wake up, Carrie."

Jim didn't know whether it was her slight thrashing movements, or the soft moan escaping her clenched lips that awakened him, but he knew she was in the middle of something that she needed to get out of.

Carolyn stiffened, and opened her eyes. "Nightmare," she murmured.

"Not a surprise."

She nodded, turning toward him. "But it is a surprise waking to your voice. I never expected to be in this bed with you again."

"Oh, you planned on being in it with someone else?"

Her elbow barely made a dent against his washboard abs. "You know what I mean."

"Gee, what would your mom say?" Jim teased, hoping to chase the nightmare away.

"She'd say, 'Carolyn, it's about time you done something right.'"

"It's not your fault, or my fault that we make better friends than we do spouses. I told Mom that about a thousand times," he said, feeling guilty that Louise blamed Carolyn for their divorce.

Carolyn wondered if Jim realized he still called her parents "Mom" and "Dad" on occasion. "Poor Jimmy. Just how many of my battles have you been fighting?" she asked, raising a hand to stroke his slightly furred cheek.

"Not all that many. I'm a 'turn-of-the-century' kind of guy. I let my women fight their own battles."

"My women, Jimmy?"

"Just an expression, Carolyn."

"Does it have to be?" she asked, putting both her hands on his face to pull him closer. "Just for tonight, can I be 'your' woman, again?"

He turned his head away. "I don't expect payment for helping you, you know."

"I know," she said, tracing his lips with her finger. "You help because your heart tells you to. I'm asking you to make love to me, because that is what my heart is telling me. Yes, I'm scared. Yes, I'm thankful that you are here for me. But this has nothing to do with that. I want you, Jimmy."

He suckled her finger, while using his Sentinel sight to find the truth in her eyes. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he smiled. "You have me, Carrie," he said, as he lowered himself to her mouth. "You always have."

Chapter Five

"Up and at 'em, Chief!"

Blair grunted, and tried to burrow further beneath the covers-- only to have them snatched away. Bleary eyes opened to find his partner grinning wickedly over him, blankets in his arms. "Sadist," he muttered.

"And a good morning to you, too. We have two women staying with us. I advise you to hit the shower while we still have hot water." Jim separated the blankets, and folded each one with perfectly squared corners.

Blair blinked, and took a good look at Jim. Instead of the showered and dressed form he'd expected, the man was still in his robe. "You go ahead, man. Just give a shout when you're finished." He thumped his pillow and turned over.

"I'm taking a personal leave day, Chief, so I'll get cleaned up later. You can tell Simon the truth, but make up something for the others."

Blair nodded. "If you're not going in, why are you up? You could have easily tossed something at me from the loft if you wanted to make sure I was awake."

"I have some calls to make to the East Coast."

And federal offices open at nine, right, Jim? "How confident are you about getting answers?"

"I'm just hoping I don't get the phone slammed in my ear too many times."

Blair looked at him sympathetically. "Make sure you dial down, man."

"You know it, Chief."

Before either could say another word, the phone rang.

"Psychic Friends Network?" Blair questioned.

A quick glare. "Ellison."

"Jimmy, it's Mom. I'm not calling too early, am I? I figured you and Blair would be up getting ready for work and--"

"We were up, Louise," Jim said for Blair's benefit.

Blair mouthed, "Tell her I said, 'Hi'," and stumbled toward the bathroom.

"This thoroughly disagreeable man called last night and--"

"Asked about Carolyn, right? Don't worry. She's safe." Damn. He'd hoped Paul and Louise wouldn't get caught up in this.

"Thank God! Is she with you?"

"Louise--"

"Right. I shouldn't ask. I'm a big Clancy fan, you know, not to mention Oliver Stone. I understand."

Jim shook his head in amazement. The people he called his family had to be some of the strangest beings on the planet. And he loved them all. "What did you tell the guy, Mom?"

"That I hadn't heard from Carolyn since Christmas, and if he could wait another six months, I'd be glad to give her his regards. That was okay, wasn't it?"

"That was fine. Blair says to tell you and Dad hi."

"You tell our baby boy we want to see both of you real soon. We probably need to talk."

"I'm sure we do. I'll check my schedule and call you back soon, okay?"

"Okay, sugar. Dad and I love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

"They okay?"

Jim looked up to the loft where Carolyn kneeled on the bed and peered over the railing. "They're fine. Just worried about you because of a phone call last night."

"But now that they know you're on the case, they're satisfied, right? Both of them read way too much Clancy, you know."

Jim grinned. "I know." He scowled up at her. "What are you doing awake? Did the phone wake you? Go back to bed. You didn't get much sleep last night."

"And whose fault was that?" she purred. "You were always a considerate lover, attentive to where your partner was in terms of 'satisfaction', but, damn, Jimmy, last night it was as if you were inside my skin, knowing everything I was feeling, aware of every button that needed pushing. I'm still tingling from the experience."

"I enjoyed myself, too," Jim said quietly.

Loving this man is way too easy, Carolyn. Better put up your guard. "I remembered something, something from the report. They called it 'Sirocco.'"

"Sirocco? The name of the pathogen itself, or the project?"

She shook her head. "It wasn't clear. Could be both. I just thought it might be helpful."

"Anything you remember will help, Carrie. But you'll have more trouble remembering if you're exhausted. Go back to bed. I have to make some calls and get Sandburg off to work, then I'll join you, okay?"

"With an incentive like that, how could a girl say no?" she cooed, laughing at his beet-colored face. Blowing him a kiss, she lowered herself back beneath the covers.

Dazed and bemused, Jim walked into the kitchen, pulled out the "junk" drawer, and carefully removed the sheet of paper taped to the bottom of it. He replaced the drawer, and picked up the phone.

"U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. How may we direct your call?"

Jim rolled his eyes. Guess it would be too simple just to answer, "USAMRIID"-- which is what everyone called the place. At least he'd gotten a real person and not some disembodied voice telling him to press 1, 2, or 3. "Connect me to Colonel Lynne Reese."

A shocked hesitation. "Commander Reese is unavailable at this time, sir."

Don't get many calls for the boss, huh? "If you want to keep whatever stripes or chevrons you have, you will tell her Diablo is calling." He could hear the clicks as the phone system put him on hold, connected to Reese's office, then finally got back to him.

"Ellison?"

"Been calling someone else an eerie blue-eyed devil, Lynne?"

Lynne Reese laughed. "Not lately. What's going on?"

"Can't a friend just call to say hello?"

"Not when the friend has my home number, but decides to call me at work. What are you going to tell me that I'm going to hate?"

"You heard of anything called Sirocco?"

"A hot bug?"

"Or a project." He could hear her tapping commands into a computer.

"Nothing's coming up. Got any specifics?"

"Getting there. My contact is working from memory. Rest will bring some details."

"Do I really want to know?"

"No."

"You can take the man out of the uniform...."

"This is not a national concern for me, Lynne. It's personal."

"So, the civilian population as a whole is not in danger?"

"I wouldn't say that."

She sighed. "What are we talking?"

"Biowarfare."

"I was right; I do hate it. I hate you, too."

"Not what you were saying all those hot, steamy nights we had in Brazil," Jim teased.

"As you, me, and my research team ran for our fucking lives? Don't believe everything I told you then, Jim. I was just caught up in the moment."

"Ouch, Reese. The male ego is a delicate thing."

She laughed, just as he knew she would. "There's nothing delicate about you, Jim. I'll keep digging around for you, and I'll call if I come up with anything."

"Thanks, Lynne. I'll owe you."

"No. I'll still owe you, Jim. Whatever you've gotten yourself involved in, be careful."

"I will. Talk to you later."

Jim hung up, heard the shower stop, and figured he didn't have enough time to make another call before Blair would need breakfast. He returned the list to its safe spot and started making the morning meal for the two of them. Hopefully, Carolyn would sleep for another couple of hours, and Naomi had her own breakfast rituals.

"Hey, man, how are our pseudo-parents doing?" Blair asked, toweling the remaining dampness out of his hair. He'd gotten quite comfortable with the shorter hair. He'd forgotten how much easier it was to deal with. Saved himself several precious minutes in the mornings.

"Fine. A little worried about Carolyn until they found out she'd been in contact with me."

Blair went to the sofa to slip on his socks and shoes. "Did you manage to connect with anyone back East?"

"Just one, so far. A friend of mine at USAMRIID. Said she hadn't heard of anything called Sirocco, but she'd check for me."

"Sirocco?"

"Yeah. Carolyn woke up to tell me she remembered seeing that name on the screen. Doesn't know if it's the name of the project, the pathogen, or the disease, but it's a start." Jim scraped scrambled eggs onto a couple of plates.

"I'll mention it to Jack. Just the two of us for breakfast?" Blair asked, coming to the table and seeing only the two settings.

"I talked Carolyn into going back to sleep, and Naomi isn't stirring yet-- which I'm grateful for because she'd probably pitch a fit about the eggs."

Blair chuckled. "Sometimes I think you know my mom better than I do." He took a sip of the coffee Jim had just poured. "So, you want me to talk to Jack. Anything else?"

"You can search the internet. Maybe this Sirocco is big among the research crowd or the terrorist groupies. If you don't mind, I'm going to borrow your laptop and do some surfing of my own."

Blair nodded. Jim liked to play dumb when it came to computers, but he had long suspected that Jim had been taught how to hack through even the most sophisticated security systems. Even back in the late eighties that had to be a necessary skill for a black op. So, while he'd been surfing the internet, Jim would be diving through the dark, cloudy waters of certain intranets. "Beware of sharks," he warned.

"You, too."

They finished breakfast in companionable silence. Jim cleaned up after Blair, made a few more calls, then climbed back up the stairs to settle in beside Carolyn. Her exhaustion finally catching up to her, she didn't wake, but merely turned to snuggle into his embrace and sank even deeper into sleep. He drifted for a while, coming more alert when he heard Naomi start moving about. When she came out of the shower, he figured it was time to get the day off to a proper start, so he padded downstairs to shower and take care of his usual morning ablutions.

"Good morning, Naomi," he called as he headed back upstairs for his clothes.

"Jim? I thought it was Carolyn in the shower. Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I'm taking the day off."

"And Blair?"

"He went in at the usual time."

"By himself? Is that safe? Doesn't he still work with you?"

Jim sighed. "Yes, he's still my partner, Naomi, but he's also a cop with less than a year on the force. That means I have considerably more vacation time than he does-- days which they demand I take. So this is not the first time he's gone in without me, and it won't be the last. He'll be fine. He's better trained than a lot of veteran officers, and Simon will keep him chained to his desk unless there's some kind of emergency."

"You think I'm being overprotective." It was a statement, not a question.

"I think you love him, and that you're frightened because he's in a situation that you can't understand. But what you have to realize is that he understands it, Naomi. I said last night that you were an adult and you could make your own choices. The same applies to Blair."

"But did he make his own choice, Jim? Or did he merely take the only option he saw open to him at that time?"

Jim shrugged. "I don't know, Naomi, and neither do you. We can both make guesses, but only Blair knows why he became a cop. We can only go by what he tells us."

"Ah, but you can do better than that, can't you, Jim? You have heightened senses. You know when someone is lying. You can smell their fear, hear the changes in their heart rhythms."

"But I can't read their minds. I'm a sentinel, not a psychic."

"You're a what?"

Jim had heard Carolyn waking, so he wasn't surprised to hear her question. "It can wait until we're both dressed," he said, clutching the front of his robe defensively.

"That might be good advice if I actually had clothes," Carolyn replied, indicating his T-shirt that had substituted for a nightgown.

"You can borrow something of mine," Naomi offered.

Carolyn looked at the clinging caftan the other woman wore, then looked at Jim.

"There's a dress shop next door. I'll go get you something," he offered quickly, starting up the stairs.

Naomi reached out for his arm. "I'm sorry, Jim. I thought everyone knew."

He shrugged. "It's okay. I was going to tell her anyway. Do you have plans for today, or are you going to stick around the loft?"

"I'm meeting some friends downtown in a few minutes-- unless you need me here."

"No. That's fine. Just keep in touch with me or Blair, okay? It's imperative we know where you are."

"Just in case trouble comes knocking?"

He patted the hand on his arm. "Yeah. Just in case."

Naomi smiled, and tugged Jim down in order to peck his cheek. "I hear you, Jim. I really do."

He heard her leave as he joined Carolyn upstairs. "It won't take me but a few minutes to go down to Colette's," he said, stripping out of the robe and opening a drawer.

"You are every in-law's dream, aren't you?"

"What?" He took a pair of jeans off a hanger.

"Naomi adores you."

"When she doesn't hate me. And she's not an in-law."

"Why would she hate you?"

"Oh, maybe because since her son has known me he's been shot, kidnapped, beaten, and worse, has become a pig," Jim said grimly. He grabbed a pair of socks and sat down on the bed.

"But it was his choice to be with you, right?"

"Not entirely." He flinched when she looked at him curiously. "You'll see what I mean when we talk."

"Something tells me this all has to do with what I missed last year."

"Yep."

Carolyn didn't know what had happened, but she could see the pain still lingering in the depths of his gorgeous blue eyes. She rested her chin on his shoulder and gave him a big squeeze. "Sounds like Y2K hit early here in Cascade."

"We didn't buy a single canned good item, or even a flashlight battery, Caro. The end of the world just didn't sound like that big a deal after all we'd been through." He kissed her and stood. "Go and take your shower. I should be back by the time you get out. There's a pack of disposable razors beneath the sink. Just toss it when you're done."

"You remember everything about me, don't you?" she asked in surprise.

"I remember everything I missed," he replied, sliding his wallet into his pocket.

"Then why haven't you noticed my hair?" she asked with a deliberate pout, not entirely comfortable with what he'd said.

"That it's longer?" he questioned as he headed down the stairs. "Or that you've changed Clairol numbers?"

A pillow thumped him on the head in reply.

*****

Jim heard the blow dryer going as he let himself back into the loft. Dropping the box he'd picked up from the basement, he strolled toward the bathroom with a shopping bag. Stopping at the partially open door, he looked at the woman standing in his robe, and got lost for a moment in "What could have been."

Carolyn turned off the dryer, and gave a small start when she saw Jim in the doorway. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd be right back. What did you get me?"

"Nothing that's going to look half as good on you as that robe does."

"God, Jimmy, don't tell me you've added flattery to your already dangerous repertoire of seduction. Those eyes, that body, and now a glib tongue? What's a girl supposed to do?" she asked, as she slowly approached him.

"What you're doing right now is a good beginning," he said, reaching out to tug at the robe's belt. He let his hands roam as their hands met in a kiss. "Let's go upstairs."

"Let's not," she countered, already undoing his pants.

"I'm flexible," Jim said agreeably.

"Why don't you prove that to me, Jimmy?" she rasped.

He did.

Back to Sirocco Homepage, Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV

Comments? D.L. Witherspoon (dlspoon@skeeter63.org)