Part II

Chapter Six

"Man, she could have made me sit up and roar any day," Captain Simon Banks heard one of his detectives say as he walked into the bullpen from a meeting with the mayor.

"Too dangerous for me," another replied. "Did you see her claws? Some things aren't worth the risk."

"What's a few scratches?"

"I dunno. Death by loss of blood, maybe?"

"But what a way to go."

Simon shook his head. Ah, to be young-- and foolish. "Talking about last night's date, Brown?" he asked, stopping by the twin desks of partners Henri Brown and Brian Rafe.

"Actually, it was a special on the Discovery Channel," Brown replied.

"Damn. Was that last night? I watched the playoffs and completely forgot about it," Simon fussed at himself. "Maybe Sandburg taped it. Where are my resident nature experts by the way?"

"Sandburg's down in Records. Ellison's taking a personal leave day," Brown reported, eager to see his superior's reaction. Jim Ellison was not the type to take random days off.

Simon frowned, wondering what the hell was going on with the Sentinel. It had to be something that had happened quickly. Jim had taken days off without his partner before, but not without first giving Simon instructions about what Sandburg could and could not do without him. He alternated between being irritated and amused at Ellison's mother hen routine, but he was starting to understand this Sentinel/Guide bond the two had, and realized that Jim had very little control over his instinct to protect Blair. He also realized that Blair needed protection. It was as if the Guide attracted trouble because, hell, someone had to, and at least he knew he had a Sentinel to watch over him.

When he realized his men were staring at him, Banks put a smirk on his face. "Is it that time of the year?" he asked.

"What time would that be, Captain?" Rafe inquired curiously.

"The Dollar Days Sale at The Home Depot."

The two detectives grinned. Everyone knew that if Ellison believed in heaven, it would have aisles upon aisles of power tools and smell of freshly-sanded wood. "You have a point, Captain. Probably had his nose pressed up against the door when the manager arrived to open up," Brown said, mimicking the speculated action.

"That's really a good look for you, Henri," Blair said as he breezed into the bullpen. "When all else fails, the begging puppy look can usually get you a pity date."

"Pity? I'll give you pity, Hairboy!" Blair scooted nimbly out of the way as Brown growled and attacked.

"Sandburg, my office," Simon ordered, before his detectives got out of hand. Sometimes running the Major Crime Unit was like managing a day care.

Blair must have been thinking the same thing, because he pouted and whined, "But he's the one who started it." Sandburg grinned as Simon muttered and stalked off toward his sanctuary.

"What's the real story behind this day off, Sandburg?" Simon asked, as the door closed behind his newest detective.

"Carolyn came to town last night."

"It'd be too much to ask that the reason Jim took the day off was because he was simply basking in afterglow, right?"

Blair gave a small smile. "There may be some afterglow, but that isn't the reason why he's staying home. Carolyn's run into some trouble."

"Why wasn't I informed?" Simon asked gruffly. Carolyn was an old friend, separate from being Jim's ex-wife.

"Because the trouble falls more into Jim's venue than yours."

"Sentinel-related?"

"Government."

"Shit." Simon removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think I'd prefer a sentinel one. Is it something you can talk about?"

"Jim figured you'd be curious, so he said it'd be okay as long as we kept it from the others."

"You have my word. Just give me the straight story, Sandburg, and save the commentary for later." Simon listened to the facts with the cool, calm demeanor of one who was confronted with the worst of mankind on a daily basis. Still, he couldn't help but flinch when he thought about the amount of devastation a biological attack could create.

"This Sirocco thing. Got anything on it yet?" Simon asked, his mind going through some of the contacts he'd made over the years.

"Nada. If you don't mind me taking a long lunch, I'm going over to Rainier to see Jack Kelso."

"Think the CIA is involved?" Simon remembered how helpful the wheelchair-bound man had been when Jim had disappeared. Also, the tell-all book he'd written about the Agency had been an advantage when a rogue CIA agent had tried to force Jim into stealing an experimental plane.

"I'm starting to believe anything is possible in the Ellison Zone," Blair said wryly.

The captain knew Blair was making a subtle dig about the way Simon and Jim used to make comments about the Sandburg Zone back in the days when it seemed Blair lived and breathed trouble. But at least his trouble was of the "Book'em, Danno," variety, whereas Jim's was of the "Let's just get out of this alive" genre. "I hear you, Sandburg," Simon agreed, acknowledging his participation in the wordplay.

Blair grinned. "That reminds me. My mom's in town, too."

"At the loft?" A nod. "Poor Jim. When it rains, it pours."

"Hey, man, that's my mom you're talking about," Blair automatically protested, before grudgingly admitting, "She is an additional concern that we don't need right now, but Jim's handling her."

Simon gave him a disbelieving stare.

"No, really. He's in his Rangers captain mode. Sorta like you-- but colder."

"Excuse me?"

"He basically told us we were all adults and that we better act like it, or else. Believe me, Captain, even Naomi knows better than to cross him."

"Wonder why I can't get people to listen to me like that?"

"We listen, Simon."

"Only if I yell, and Jim wasn't yelling, was he?"

"No. Which is why we listened."

Simon nodded. The calmer Jim grew, the scarier he became. Not that he, Captain Simon Banks, would ever admit that aloud. "Go on to lunch, then do whatever you need. Tell Jim I'll stop by the loft after work to see if he needs me for anything."

"He'll appreciate the support. So will Carolyn."

"What about you? Do you need support? I know it's going to be somewhat disconcerting going back to campus," Simon said, recognizing the tension in his detective.

"It's been a year, Simon. I'm not the same man who left with a box of office junk and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach."

"You're stronger," the captain agreed. Not just physically either, although conditioning at the academy had the younger man's body in peak condition. But Sandburg was more stable mentally, able to focus for longer periods of time, and less prone to outbursts. Tempered, is a good word, Simon thought.

"Yeah, well, weakness doesn't cut it out on the streets."

Simon frowned. "You were never weak, Sandburg, just fresh-- untried. We're all like that at some time. Even that partner of yours."

"You mean the Rock of Gibraltar?"

"Yeah, the one who almost shattered when his sentinel abilities came online. But you were there to hold him together. If you need someone to hold you together, we're counting on you to let us know. None of us are psychics, but we are friends," Simon said meaningfully.

"I think you just proved that, sir," Blair said, standing to head toward the door. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

*****

Blair kept his head up as he made his way to Jack Kelso's office. Some people smiled at him, either because they knew him, thought he looked nice, or were attracted. A few gave him a bemused look as if he were slightly familiar, and still others ignored him completely-- not because he'd stood before his colleagues and called himself a fraud, but simply because they ignored everybody but themselves on a regular basis. Rainier was still Rainier.

"Blair Sandburg!" Kelso called out happily when Blair revealed himself. "Come on in! What brings you back to the 'hell'owed halls of academia?"

They shook hands firmly, and Blair took a seat. "Before we get into that, Jack, my visit won't get you into trouble, will it? If I know Chancellor Edwards, she probably has spies lurking about."

"Edwards and her goons know better than to mess with me," Kelso said confidently. "The headline, 'Handicapped Professor Denied Visitors By University' would put nails in those coffins they sleep in at night."

Blair laughed. "Thought vampires slept during the day, Jack."

"Edwards always does things ass-backward," Kelso replied with a grin. "Now, tell me, my friend, what can I do for you, and is it likely to get me shot again?"

Blair tensed. "I don't think so, but there is a possibility."

Kelso reached into a drawer and turned on sound dampeners in case someone was trying to listen in. "You know, Blair, of all the contacts I have, I would have thought you the least likely to get me killed. It's refreshing to know a jaded man like myself can still be wrong."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Blair mumbled.

"Blair, if you leave right now, I'll never forgive you. I need the excitement. Ever since I got put in this chair...." Jack had been a CIA operative until incompetence within the Agency caused a benign situation to literally explode, leaving him a paraplegic. As a way of not only dealing with his anger, but protecting future agents, he'd written a revealing book. The bestseller had gotten him publicity and a position as a professor of Foreign Affairs at Rainier, much as Blair's book would have gotten him if he hadn't declared it bogus. Jack knew Rainier was just using him, but he and his chair would take what they could get...no matter how boring it got. Still, it would be nice to ride the grown-up attractions for a short while. "Put me on your roller-coaster, Blair. You don't know how tired I am of this damn kiddie ride."

Blair nodded sympathetically. "Does the word 'Sirocco' mean anything to you?"

"Other than its literal meaning? What are we talking? A faction? Cult?"

"More likely a germ. Biowarfare, Jack."

Jack laughed, and swung around to his computer. "God, I love ya, Blair!"

*****

"What's all of this?" Carolyn asked, as she came out of the bathroom after fixing her hair for the third time. She'd forgotten that longer hair and sex could become integral parts of each other. Jim had thoroughly reminded her.

Jim barely glanced at the box he'd set on the coffee table. "A multimedia presentation of 'What I did last summer'. Start wherever you want-- print, video, audio. A lot of it is repetitive--" He paused as the phone rang. "Ellison. Hold for a second." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. "I need to take this call, Carolyn. Switzerland."

She nodded and delved into the box. He returned to his phone call. "You have anything for me, Gunther?" Gunther worked for an outfit known as Phoenix, a team of medical and rescue personnel trained to respond to a biological or chemical assault by identifying the agent, assessing the extent of the contamination, and supplying the civilians with whatever support necessary. Part of their preparedness depended on having some idea of existing threats.

"Nothing on Sirocco, I'm afraid, but GenoTech raised some red flags. There's been some recombinant DNA research going on there that's put a lot of people on alert. In fact, your State Department has been looking at the company quite closely."

"Really? I talked to Galbraith just a few hours ago, and he told me he had nothing. Guess he must have forgotten who he was talking to," Jim said softly.

"I'll fax you what I have, and I'll pass along any other information I get."

"Thanks. I owe you. Call when it's time for payback." Jim hung up, noticed Carolyn was caught up in the tape of the press conference, and dialed Washington. "This is Ellison. Let me speak to Galbraith," he said tersely.

"The Secretary can't take your call at the moment, sir. If you--"

Jim heard another person breathing on the line, and knew Galbraith was monitoring the call. "Tell him that he'll either speak to me by phone, or in person. It makes no difference to me, but it might to him." Jim heard a muttered curse, and a click as one of the lines was disconnected.

"What do you want, Ellison? I told you this morning--"

"Do NOT compound the lie by retelling it, Galbraith," Jim said firmly. "Tell me everything you know about GenoTech, and maybe you'll be able to sleep soundly tonight."

"Is that a threat?"

"Don't you remember any of the training, Jerry? Threats are useless wastes of time, and I excel in time management." Silence. "However, if I make a promise, I'm always a man of my word."

Galbraith talked.

By the time Jim gathered the faxes spewing from the machine in Blair's room, Carolyn was sitting on the sofa staring at him, the materials she'd been reviewing carefully packed back in the box. Setting the papers aside, he perched on the sofa beside her.

"How much of it is true?" she inquired much too casually.

"Ask an easier question."

"How much of it is a lie?"

"That Sandburg committed fraud."

"You really are a--"

"Sentinel. Yes, I am."

"All five?"

"Yes."

"But surely some of the ranges are exaggerated?"

He understood her need to downplay his abilities, especially after being intimate with him only an hour or so ago. "No. If anything, the ranges are dated. Some of them have improved."

"Damn." She edged away from him just a fraction, frowning as she remembered something. "The duck waste. You smelled the duck waste when Lash kidnapped Blair." Jim nodded. "And Simon backed you. He knew?"

"I had to tell him. It was vital that Sandburg be allowed to ride with me. In his dissertation he underplays his role in this sentinel thing, but he's important. He's my Guide."

"He teaches you to control your senses, right?"

"Yes, but it's more than that, Carolyn. At times, he is my control. Without him, I'd either be in an asylum, or dead."

"Asylum?" Carolyn paled. "That last date we had. That's why you asked Simon for a leave of absence--"

"And per his request you asked me out to dinner to convince me to change my mind. But that wasn't about to happen. I might have been going down, but there was no way in hell I was going to risk taking somebody else with me."

"So, that whole wild scene with you accusing the waiter of sabotaging the food--?"

"My sense of taste was spiking. Hell, most of my senses were way off the scale. I was like a manic-depressive, swinging from one extreme to the other."

"And your sympathetic ex-wife-slash-friend basically gives you the impression that she doesn't give a damn." She raised her eyes to his. "I'm sorry."

"Don't blame yourself. There was no way you could have known. I just thank God that Blair knew, and was able to get through to me."

"I thank God for him, too," she murmured. "But I don't understand how he could be so careless with his dissertation. Surely he knew what would happen if this got out."

"He wasn't careless, Carolyn, really. It was just a case of everything that could go wrong, you know? Naomi appeared just when he was finishing his work. It still had my name all over it, so when she asked to read it, he put her off by saying it needed polishing. Trying to help, she emailed a copy of it to a publisher friend, and everything snowballed from there. To top it off, we were involved in a high profile case at the time. I don't like reporters on a good day, and when that son of a bitch Sid Graham decided to drum up publicity for a book he had no rights to-- I was pretty pissed, especially at Blair." Jim shrugged. "Anyway, somehow Blair and I got through it without any permanent damage to our relationship. Simon and I worked it out so that he could become a detective, and that's where we are right now."

"What about at headquarters? This sentinel stuff?"

"Those who know Sandburg know he didn't lie. Hell, most of them knew something was up with me anyway. There were days when I didn't even try to hide it. But so far, it's an unspoken truth. We haven't sat down and held a Sentinel 101 seminar or anything. They leave Blair and me alone to do our thing, and if they need help, they ask for it."

Carolyn leaned back against the sofa, and closed her eyes. She felt Jim start to get up, and she reached out to lay a hand against his arm, stopping his movement. When she didn't remove her hand, he sat back and waited. After a few minutes of reconciling the man she'd married, the man she'd just made love to, with the man Blair called the Sentinel, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. "Wow," she said, with an air of approval.

"Wow," he agreed.

"That'll teach me to ignore Cascade gossip, huh?"

"Guess so."

"Then, what's this about you dating a Game and Wildlife Officer? And a hitwoman died in your arms? Oh, yeah, and a blonde who tried to kill Sandburg and you chased her to Mexico, and just how many vehicles have you gone through, not to mention...."

With a sigh, Jim wished all his life was on tape and he could just pull the relevant ones. Instead, he reached out and brushed a finger across her lips, effectively quieting her. "I thought I asked for the easy questions?"

"Well, you were being so uncharacteristically open, I thought I owed it to myself to give it a shot," Carolyn explained with an impish grin.

"I may have changed, but not that much."

"How has being a sentinel changed you? Is that the reason you don't eat cheese fries as a food group anymore?"

"I pretty much stay away from extremely spicy food, which doesn't include cheese fries, but I've seriously cut back on grease and red meat. As Sentinel of Cascade, I need to be as fit as possible."

"In order to protect the tribe."

"Exactly." He laughed at the disbelief in her eyes. "I know. This is a lot to take in. Me, the ultimate loner, now tribal protector. But when you can smell the fear, hear the panicked heartbeats-- you lose the distance between 'me and them'. It becomes 'us' in ways so intimate...."

"How do you stand it all?"

"I have Blair. He's like a furnace filter, sorta catching and blocking the crap that would clog my pipes." He grinned at how that sounded. "If I'm the city's protector, then Blair is mine. There's Simon, too. He gives me and Blair the freedom to do what we have to do, no matter how unorthodox. When people wanted to start crap about Blair being promoted to detective, he took the brunt of it and stood fast. I think that's the greatest change being a sentinel has made in my life."

"What?"

"That it's made me realize I'm not alone. I have backup that has nothing to do with Army regulations and police codes. True friendship, Carrie."

"You're happy, aren't you?" she asked wonderingly. "Before, there were always shadows in your eyes, shadows that I thought I could wipe away. But you never let me close enough."

"A few of them are still there, but the majority of them have been consigned to the darkness where they belong." He smiled ruefully. "In a way, I'm an entirely new man, remade from the inside out. To become the sentinel I was supposed to be, I had to make a decision, a choice, to be him. It hasn't been easy, and I've backslid a time or three. Change is hard, Carolyn, and I've screwed up plenty."

"You know, I don't think you've changed that much at all. I think this is the James Ellison I kept getting glimpses of in the past, but you stubbornly kept him hidden. Guess you were waiting for Blair."

"Does it bother you? That it wasn't you?"

"Maybe. When we got married, I just knew that I was what you needed. When I didn't succeed, I declared it an impossible task. Imagine my surprise, and my dismay, when I watched this kid just waltz in and completely turn you around. Instantly, I knew he knew things about you in a week, that I hadn't learned in a year of marriage and two years of friendship. It was disturbing, and it made me wonder if it was me-- if it wasn't that Blair was so capable, but that I was so incapable."

"Is that why you left?"

"Yes and no. The opportunity in San Francisco sounded too good to miss, and I was feeling unnecessary here. You were running rings around my technical staff, Jimmy, and I was getting flack about the operating budget. I guess I wanted to go where I could feel appreciated, capable." She shifted, resting her chin on his shoulder. "But I don't resent Blair, and I don't begrudge you your 'blossoming' into a sentinel. In fact, I kinda like it. I knew my Jimmy would protect me, but now I also have the Sentinel on my side."

"The Sentinel, Guide, and all available tribal warriors," he added with a smile.

"Guess I really am protected, hmm?"

"And loved."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good," she whispered against his ear. "That is very good."

*****

"We've located her, sir," Freer told his boss, as the older man continued to feed paper into the shredder.

"Where?"

"In Cascade with her ex-husband."

"She ran to him, and he took her in with open arms?" Lambert asked quietly.

"Apparently it was something like that. She spent the night at his place," Freer replied uncomfortably, wondering where the old man was headed.

"And this would be the ex-husband who is an ex-Ranger, and an ex-operative?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I suppose we better hope he's better at being an 'ex' those than he is an ex-husband."

Freer shifted a fraction. "He's already made some calls."

"I guess the man is a failure at quitting. Those are dangerous men, Freer."

"But not for long. The test is a go. We're only waiting on opportunity."

"He will be a wildcard."

"Yes. He adds a new dimension to the test. The results should be interesting."

Lambert shook his head at his assistant's enthusiasm. "I'll settle for satisfactory."

"It'll work."

Lambert shrugged. "Is the rest of the equipment packed and ready to go?"

"Yes, sir. If you don't mind me saying, sir, you seem to have more doubts than you had last night. Has something happened that I should know about?"

"Just an old man tired of moving, Freer. Nothing more than that."

"If you say so, sir." Freer went to see to the trucks, reminding himself to keep a close eye on his superior.

Lambert shook his head as he watched his assistant leave. How to explain that after forty years in the business, a spark of conscience had flared up inexplicably in the middle of the night, making him confront regrets and other little moral nasties? He'd tossed and turned for hours, chased by his personal demons. The road to hell was apparently designed by the conscience….

Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.

Chapter Seven

"Carolyn, unchain the door for Sandburg," Jim called from the depths of Blair's room as the fax machine printed out pages.

She removed the chain, and opened the door. Blair seemed startled when he saw who had done the honors. "Does this mean you know?"

Carolyn nodded. "Jim told me just a little while ago."

"And?"

She took a step back, surprised by the anger she heard backing the question, not to mention the defensive stance Blair had taken. No, not defensive. Offensive. What the hell? Then she remembered what Jim had said. Something about he protected the city and Blair protected him. Considering all she had read and the general reaction to the Sentinel, maybe Blair was worried she couldn't handle who Jim had become. "I think it's wonderful, Blair. I knew Jim was special."

Blair grinned. "Yes, he is. Where is the big slug?" he whispered evilly.

"Since she knows I can hear you," Jim said, coming out of Blair's room with several sheets of paper, "Carolyn won't be surprised when I beat you to a pulp for that remark."

"Pulp can't tell you what I've found out."

Jim motioned for everyone to meet in the living room. "You talked to Kelso?"

"Yeah. Simon told me to go see him, then call it a day. Unless I'm in the way here?" Blair winked suggestively.

"You know, you've been hanging around Brown too long. So, what does the CIA know about Sirocco?"

"Nothing, man. But it's had a long-running relationship with GenoTech. The company was founded by funds funneled through the Agency."

"Shit. What did they do for them?"

"Mostly recombinant DNA studies. No major breakthroughs, though. The relationship was severed two years ago due to a State Department investigation."

Jim flipped through the pages from the fax machine. "You sure the State Department knew of the CIA connection?"

"Jack was pretty certain. Named somebody high up in the Department. A Gabriel, Galway, something like that."

"Galbraith. Jerrold Galbraith. The same Jerrold Galbraith whose faxed report doesn't mention the CIA at all. Ah, Jerry. You are so forgetful." He set the papers aside. "Anything else?"

"Not from Jack, but I did have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"It involves you, Carolyn."

She looked up from her seat beside Jim. One thing she'd learned from working with police was that you didn't interrupt partners during a debrief. There was usually a set way they disseminated information to each other, and interruptions interfered with that and could cause the omission of vital information. In other words, a technician could learn more by listening than by asking questions. "What's on your mind, Blair?"

"I think you saw more than you remember. You were scared, and fear has a way of overshadowing everything else."

Carolyn grimaced. "I know I really should have looked more closely."

Blair threw up his hands to stop her. "Hey, no need to apologize. Me and fear are real close friends. Not like Mr. Hero there."

"I get scared too," Jim protested.

"Were you scared hanging from Kincaid's helicopter?"

"Well, no."

"Were you scared jumping out of the plane in Peru?"

"I was trained--"

"Were. You. Scared?"

"No."

"So, Carolyn, as I was saying," Blair continued, markedly ignoring Jim, "I think you did see more information. I'd like to talk you through an exercise that might make remembering more comfortable for you."

"Like the conversation I had with Jack?" Jim asked.

"Jim, your senses help you remember things from years ago. I just want Carolyn to go back a day, back without the fear."

Carolyn frowned. "We're not talking hypnotism, are we?"

"No. Nothing like that. I just want to get you relaxed and feeling safe."

Carolyn's eyes flicked to Jim.

"You'll be in good hands," Jim assured her. "He's talked me through some pretty dense labyrinths, and gotten me safely to the other side."

She nodded. "Sure. What do you need me to do? Get on the floor like your mother?"

"Nah. You're great where you are." Blair moved until he was sitting on the coffee table in front of her. "I want you to take Jim's hand. Close your eyes and feel his hand in yours. He's going to keep you safe. No matter what happens, you have his hand, and he's like a safety rope. You can't fall. You can't be hurt. If you get scared, just feel the heat of his hand, squeeze it, know it's there. Okay?"

"Okay."

"You're at work yesterday." Carolyn nodded. "You're at your computer, and...."

"Coffee. Everywhere. Have to wipe it up."

"You wipe up your mess, and...."

"My finance report disappears from the screen. Instead, there's something there I don't recognize."

"What does it say? Can you read the screen for me?"

"'...therefore we can assume Sirocco will have the same potential. After initial incubation, the lethality rises to ninety percent or better. Taking that into consideration, each expected mortality will cost on the average of $5.00, which, while acceptable to our backers, will be lowered upon each successive use of the product since most of the cost is ascribed to the development stage of the project. Deployment costs are negligible. Please see chart below for a more detailed explanation of expenditures. We must also remember that civilian populations are quite susceptible to the "terror" factor, and that, too, will increase morbidity, as well as mortality rates....'"

Carolyn shuddered, and opened her eyes. "My God," she murmured, finally understanding that her fear was a logical, rational reaction to what she'd seen. The understanding brought relief, and ironically, increased fear.

"I'll second that," Blair said. "No wonder you ran. Ninety percent lethal. That's some weapon."

"Deployment costs are negligible. That's what concerns me," Jim mused. "That's usually a deterrent in this business."

Carolyn turned to him, and remembered she was still holding his hand. No, not holding, but crushing it. "Damn, Jimmy. I didn't break it, did I?" She released the extremity, only to grab it again to examine it.

"No permanent damage done, Plummer, but remind me to tell your dad that he did a good job teaching you how to grip a baseball bat." Jim smiled as she massaged the reddened spots. "I can still grip a gun with it, sweetheart."

A snort. "Carolyn performs miracle?"

"Sandburg!"

Carolyn glanced at Blair. "Please don't tell me he's still dropping the thing! You know, I could always tell when I was covering one of his crime scenes-- the gun over in the corner was a dead giveaway!"

"Sometimes I'm wondering if he's hearing directions from someone else, like we're on the set of some bad action movie. 'Drop the gun now, Jim, and...cut!' Must be a sentinel thang."

Jim rolled his eyes and picked up the box of last year's memorabilia. "Before I sentinel your 'thang', Sandburg, I'm going to take this stuff back to the basement. When you two jokers get over yourselves, you can look through the material I've received."

As the door closed behind him, Jim heard Blair say to Carolyn in his best Deforest Kelly imitation, "Damn it, Jim, I'm an anthropologist, not a gun valet!"

Despite being the butt of the joke, Jim felt something warm move through him as he heard two of the most important people in his life laughing together.

*****

Carolyn and Blair were both silent when Jim returned, sharing the sofa and the stack of pages between them. He checked the answering machine for messages, then looked at his watch, debating whether to make more calls or be satisfied that everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing. Except for Jerrold Galbraith, of course. But he already had plans for Jerry.

"Sandburg, do we have any of those overnight envelopes around here?"

Blair looked up, laying the papers aside before standing. "I think there's one in my room. Give me a minute, man."

Jim nodded. He placed a folded tissue on the counter and was just getting ready to unwrap it, when he suddenly cocked his head to one side. He went to the door, and opened it for Simon. "Wasn't expecting you for a couple of hours," he said, moving back to his previous position.

"You know what they said about curiosity and the cat." Simon shut the door, and grinned when he saw the woman on the sofa. "Plummer, what's this I hear about you bringing trouble to my town?"

"Banks, your town ain't nothing but trouble," Carolyn replied, meeting Simon halfway for a big bear hug. "It's good seeing you, old friend."

"You too. Even though it's not like these two can't get into enough trouble on their own."

"What do you expect from the Sentinel and his Guide?"

"You know?"

She heard the tension in Simon's abrupt question, and wondered just what the hell other people had said about Jimmy when they found out. "I think you're a lucky captain to have such a formidable team under your control."

Simon laughed. "What control? I didn't control Jim before he became the Sentinel, and now with Sandburg along for the ride, I've learned just to grit my teeth and hang on."

"I'm being insulted. That must mean my captain's here," Blair said, handing Jim a blue and white envelope. "Here, Jim. What are you mailing?"

"This."

Blair moved forward to see Jim unveil a tiny carcass. "That's a dead cricket."

"Good eye."

"It's bad luck to kill crickets, man."

"I didn't kill him. He was already deceased when I picked him up in the storeroom."

"You're going to mail a dead cricket to someone?" Simon asked, listening in unabashedly.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"We learned in the Rangers that when a cricket sings, all is well. But when a cricket's silent...well, that means something's lurking in the darkness."

Blair paled. "You want someone to be afraid of the dark."

Jim smiled, but there was no delight in the gesture. "Very afraid." He filled out the address and carefully put the wrapped up cricket inside. It might get smooshed in transit, but he was sure Galbraith would recognize what it was.

"Jim, you're mailing that to the State Department."

"At this rate, Chief, you can get rid of the glasses." He pulled the protective strip off the glue and sealed the envelope.

Simon's hand brushed his arm. "Are you sure you want to do this, Jim?" He didn't know, and didn't want to know, the connections Jim had in Washington, but threatening D.C. bigwigs seemed to be asking for more trouble than they already had.

"In certain parts of the world, Captain, idle threats just make you a bigger target, so as a rule, follow-through is a necessity."

"And a dead cricket is the follow-through?"

"No, sir. The dead cricket is just a reminder that the nights are not as lonely as they appear."

"But you're here," Simon argued. "Not in some backyard on the other side of the country."

"Your point being, sir?"

"That--" Simon stopped. He didn't have a point, did he? Jim never said he would be the one lurking in the shadows. For all he knew, there was a network of lurkers-for-hire. "Never mind, Jim. What do you need me to do?"

" Blair and Carolyn are going through the material I've received so far. You can take a look, too. See if anything triggers a memory of something you've seen or read in passing."

"In other words, so far you have zilch."

Jim sighed. "That seems to be the gist of it. I have a few more feelers out. Hopefully, we'll get something soon. I'm going to drop this in the box on the corner. Back in a sec."

After three hours of going through reports, the group concluded they barely knew more today than yesterday. "Where do we go from here, Jim?" Blair asked, tossing his glasses on the coffee table.

Jim rubbed the back of his neck. "We wait for them to make the next move."

"When will that be?"

"Sooner than we want. Anyone hungry other than me?"

Blair smiled. "I wondered how long it was going to take you, man. I was starting to worry."

Jim caught Carolyn's curious look. "Sandburg has an unhealthy fascination with my eating habits."

Blair snorted. "It's not unhealthy. I just think it's interesting how much a sentinel eats, and it makes me wonder if it relates to how much he's used his senses prior, or how much he's probably going to use them later. Either way, I think food, energy, is very important to a sentinel, and he can unconsciously gauge how much he needs to get through a particular crisis."

Jim shook his head, and stood. "All I calculate is when I'm hungry, and that's now. I'm ordering Chinese. Anybody got a problem with that?" He headed toward the kitchen and the list of numbers kept by the phone.

"You're still studying him?" Carolyn asked.

"Yes. I always will. That's part of my job as his companion and teacher. I'm his Guide, Carolyn. What he does, how he does it, why he does it, that's all part of what I need to know about him, so that I can serve him properly."

"Serve him? That sounds a little feudal, doesn't it?" Carolyn questioned with a distasteful grimace.

"Why?" Blair asked.

"Why what?"

"Why does it sound feudal?"

"People don't serve other people, Blair, not willingly anyway."

"So, I could say I 'help', Jim, and you wouldn't have a problem with it?"

"Help is different."

"I can 'help', Jim, but I can't 'serve' him. According to the dictionary, it means the same thing," Blair argued.

"The connotations aren't the same."

"And connotations are products of the times. So, two hundred years ago, I could serve Jim, and it would be okay, right?"

"Right."

"But I can't serve him now, right?"

Carolyn glared at him. "You're deliberating baiting me."

Blair smiled. "Of course I am. I had this same debate with one of my Anthropology professors. We were studying an ancient civilization, and he kept changing the word servant into worker. I wanted to know why. He said because these people weren't slaves, and I told him I didn't consider slave and servant to be interchangeable terms. He told me I was wrong. But I wasn't. I think because of all the cries about equality and subjugation, we've lost perspective when it comes to the word 'serve'. People have always served others, and it has nothing to do with equal rights or ownership. I served you popcorn last night. The pilot served you by flying you here."

"But he was paid for that."

"And I'm paid, Carolyn. Every time Jim saves someone, I'm paid. Yes, I serve Jim. He's the guy with the hypersenses, the muscled body, the overwhelming obsession to keep the tribe safe. I'm just a geek-- an armed geek now, but still just a geek. I chart the remarkable things he does. I talk while he acts. But you know what? My talking allows him to act. My charting keeps him in top condition. I serve Jim so that he can serve Cascade, and there is nothing wrong, or meek, or pathetic about that at all. It's about balance.

"Farmers are servants. They work the fields providing food for our tables. But because they serve, they get no respect. So, their kids run to the big city, and while they're off asking if you want fries with that, a handful of farmers, who see the big picture and know that the world depends on people being servants, are trying to feed an ever-growing population. Teachers are considered servants. What's that thing they're always saying? Those who can't, teach. That shows lots of respect, doesn't it? So what happens with a lot of teachers? They leave the education field, and go into big business because the money is good and maybe people won't sneer when they hear what they do. So what if future generations can't count to twenty without taking off their shoes? So what if we have no one left to serve as the underpins of civilization as we have defined it? They're at the top, or at least off the bottom; nothing else matters. But, damn it, it's the bottom of the pole that keeps the pole standing. Cut off the top, and what? You have a shorter pole. Remove the base-- bye-bye pole. Therefore, we need servers who are willing to support the pole, to anchor the pole. Does than mean the servers are less than the pole? Or are the servers as equal to the equation as the pole is?"

"I'm sorry, Blair," Carolyn started. "I didn't mean--"

"Yes, you did. But just as I think that professor was putting down the important role the servants had in the building and operation of that ancient civilization, I think your reaction showed disrespect toward me, as well as Jim. Do you actually think he'd condone being my 'master'? I tease him about being a control freak, but when it's necessary, he hands control over to me. When something happens that he doesn't understand, he comes to me. When he confides in someone, he confides in me. Those are gifts of power, not the burdens of a slave. I honor Jim with my service; he honors me with his trust. And we both protect and serve the community. Balance, Carolyn." Blair took a deep breath. "Service has nothing to do with slavery, ownership, or inequality. It has to do with seeing a need someone else has, and filling it."

"If you're through with the lecture, Professor, I could use your help in the kitchen," Jim called.

Carolyn waited until Blair joined Jim in the kitchen before turning to Simon. "Is he always like this?"

"No one keeps me and my men on their toes more than Sandburg," Simon said. "And the poor crooks don't know what hit them." He angled his head toward the pair in the kitchen. "They're a good team, Carolyn. I think they've both adjusted quite well to one of the weirdest relationships I've ever heard of. If Blair's a little edgy right now, I have a feeling it has to do with Naomi's presence. Sandburg's never really sure what might happen when she's around. At first, I think he was worried about her and Jim clashing. I mean, you have never seen two such totally opposite personalities."

"You don't have to explain it to me. I spent last night here, remember?"

"But they've learned to tolerate each other for Blair's sake. Now, if Naomi can just figure out what 'privacy' means...."

Carolyn shook her head. "Lost cause. Want to guess from whom I learned of Jim's heightened senses?"

Simon sighed. "She means well, I suppose."

Carolyn cast her eyes to the kitchen where Jim and Blair were apparently making a salad. "Your opinion."

"Come on, Plummer. You barely know the woman. You don't actually think she revealed Jim's secret on purpose, do you? I mean she didn't even know he was a sentinel until after everything hit the fan."

"And I bet she was just wracked with remorse, right? I know women like her, Simon. It's a control game."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And she's a little clingy around Jim?"

Carolyn laughed. Leave it to Simon to detect her ulterior motives. "She's a LOT clingy when it comes to Jim. But of course that has nothing to do with my opinion of her."

"Of course not," Simon replied dutifully.

"Banks?"

"Yeah, Plummer?"

"Bite me."

*****

The ringing of the phone sounded oddly loud in the back of the limo. Freer grabbed the offending instrument, ignoring the look Lambert shot him. "Yeah, go ahead.... Keep me posted." He smiled and tossed the phone onto the seat beside him. "They ordered Chinese."

"So it's done?"

"As close to being done as possible."

"Results?"

"Probably by the morning, if not later. Depends on how much Plummer saw."

"And how swift Ellison is."

"You seem to have a lot of respect for the talents of a man you claim not to know."

Lambert shrugged. "More than I have for some people I do know," he said pointedly. "Have you looked at the man's record? And there are those rumors...."

"Which were proven untrue."

"Not proven untrue. Disclaimed. There's a difference."

Freer sighed. Lambert being a pain in the ass was one thing, but this enigmatic side was quickly becoming tedious. "True or untrue, he can't be saved now. It's a fait accompli."

Lambert made an indistinct sound and stared out the window.

Chapter Eight

"Well, that was definitely an overreaction," Blair muttered as he got the lettuce out of the refrigerator.

"Not if that's the way you feel," Jim said reasonably. "I don't consider you subservient to me, and if you ever need me to stand up and tell the truth-- that my life is completely in your hands instead of vice-versa-- just name the time and the place. You have enough shit to deal with as a cop; you don't need to catch grief because you're my Guide. Do we have any cherry tomatoes?"

"I've sorta grown used to it down at the station. Everyone has their opinion of me, and we've learned to live with each other, you know. It's just hard taking it from people who should know better, and although Carolyn and I are barely past the acquaintance stage, she should have more faith in you. You don't like cherry tomatoes."

"Give her time, Chief. She got hit with this cold. And the tomatoes are for her, not me. I know you usually keep a stash in the fridge bin."

Blair moved back to the refrigerator. "So, are they talking about me?"

"Actually, Simon is calling Carolyn on her jealousy of Naomi."

Blair looked at him incredulously. "Because of you?"

"What? I have you know I'm a good-looking man, Sandburg."

"And modest, too."

Jim grinned. "Always. I'll just have to explain to Naomi that she needs to keep her hands to herself on this visit."

"This visit? Look at me, Ellison." Light blue eyes obeyed, looking innocent. "You're yanking my chain, aren't you? Geez, man. Don't you know you don't mess with a man's mama?"

Jim laughed, and took the tomatoes from Blair's hand. "You're just so easy, Chief."

"So says he with the redhead in his bed."

Jim smirked. "Told ya I was a good-looking man."

Blair rolled his eyes and reached for the salad bowls. "About the earlier impromptu lecture, Jim. I think I might know what precipitated it. I think I'm feeling guilty."

"About?"

"Naomi's visit isn't just a visit. You were right last night; this is a matter we need to discuss sooner rather than later, especially since we're dealing with something that has a ninety percent kill rate. I don't want anything to happen to one of us with this hanging over our heads."

"This sounds pretty serious, Chief."

"There's some serious potential for misunderstanding in this. That's why I think we need to get it out into the open." Dusky blue eyes looked solemnly at Jim. "We don't handle mis-communication well."

"We don't handle it at all," Jim said dryly. "Let's take this to the balcony, okay? Simon," he called in a louder voice. "Take over kitchen duties for a minute, will you? Blair and I need to talk." With a light hand to Blair's back, he guided his partner outside.

"Simon?" Carolyn asked worriedly, her eyes following the exiting men.

"It'll be okay," Simon reassured her. "Remember that weird relationship we were discussing earlier? This is just part of it. Happens all the time. We can be talking about a case in my office, and before I know it, they're dismissing themselves and going off in a corner. Jim will stalk, Blair's hands will fly, and then they'll come back into the office and solve the case."

"But this sounded personal."

"Plummer," Simon said, draping his arm around her as they headed to the kitchen. "Everything between the two of them is personal."

*****

"This is probably a good place to start," Blair said, digging the Duke letter out of his pocket. He'd stuck it there to make sure Jim didn't stumble upon it while he was at work.

Jim read the letter without comment. When he finished, he handed it back to Blair. "No one deserves this more than you, Chief. When do you leave?"

"That eager to get rid of me, are you?" Blair asked flippantly.

Jim grabbed his arm. "Don't you ever joke about that, Chief. I don't want to get rid of you, ever. But I don't want to hold you back either. You worked hard to get those three letters behind your name. I stood in your way once; I won't do that again."

"You didn't stand in my way, Jim. We just didn't-- I-- just didn't weigh the consequences thoroughly when I took you on as a research subject."

"Is it because you turned out to be a Guide?"

"Oh, we won't even discuss the bias in my report due to that," Blair said with a snort. "But even without the added complication of being your Guide, I never took into consideration the possible consequences of your exposure. I suppose if you were a fireman, or maybe a forest ranger, exposing you wouldn't have been such a big deal. But you're a cop; you have enemies who would love to have the details of your vulnerabilities. It was stupid of me to overlook that."

"Not stupid. You just didn't know how it was in the beginning."

"But I learned, Jim. I knew what kind of target you were. Hell, Lee Brackett painted me a color picture. I still don't sleep some nights thinking about that particular threat. I really don't trust that they believe I lied, Jim. Sometimes I think they're just biding their time, waiting until you reach the peak of your talents, before they swoop in and claim you."

"Stop borrowing my nightmares and get your own," Jim joked, but without laughing. "I think the major problem was Sid Graham and his publicity stunts. I mean, you do this now, and only a handful of old farts see the diss, right?"

Blair stared at him. "There's no way in hell that my diss is going to be on sentinels, man! How could you even think such a thing!"

Jim shrugged sheepishly. "I just figured this offer was on condition that you could prove you didn't commit fraud. I'm willing to do whatever you want me to."

Blair took a deep breath and walked to the far corner of the balcony. "Are you telling me you're prepared to perform in order to show that my paper wasn't a lie?"

"I told you, Chief; I won't stand in your way this time. Just tell me when you need me in North Carolina. I'll have to work out the time off with Simon, but--"

"Stop." Blair held up his hand, begging for a few moments of quiet thought. He paced in a tight circle, trying to get his thoughts in order. "Jim, I appreciate the offer, but I would not-- could not-- put you in danger like that. In the wrong hands, you could be a weapon of unlimited value. You know that. They know that. And in the wrong hands, any dissertation I wrote would be the ultimate weapon against you. Your enemies would know that as well. The willingness to sacrifice is noted, but the sacrifice itself is firmly rejected, man."

"How will you--"

"According to a lawyer Ma talked to, I haven't done anything illegal. The diss was read, and the media contacted, without my authorization. In fact, I explicitly told Sid Graham no, which means I was the violated party, not the university. Rainier had no right to kick me out, and quite frankly, if I wanted to return there, they would have no say so in the matter."

"But why would you want to return? Duke University has more going for it than great basketball, Chief. Compared to Duke, Rainier is just a community college."

Blair laughed. "Chancellor Edwards would blow a vein if she heard you say that."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer person," Jim said dryly. "Another reason why you shouldn't even be considering going back to Rainier."

"You sound like my mom. Something about negative energies--"

"Hey, I never said that. But she's right; you shouldn't go to a place where you're not wanted if you have other options."

"But that option will take me the breadth of the country away from you," Blair admitted reluctantly. He hadn't wanted to reveal his vulnerability so soon.

"I'll cope, Sandburg." Jim turned and looked out at his city. "That's why I was sorta hoping you'd continue with the Sentinel diss. That way it wouldn't take you as long as it would if you started a subject from scratch."

Blair shook his head. "I can't take the risk, Jim. I won't put you in danger like that again. But I already have a good start on my new topic: On The Other Side Of The Badge-- View From A Major Crime Unit. What d'ya think? I mean, I kept notes and everything as part of the bluff, you know? And I have my private journals which, with a little editing, can almost be a dissertation. A year- maybe less if I can skirt around the 'in residence' requirements."

Jim smiled. "That's definitely doable, Chief. The guys will look after me until--"

The abrupt stop had Blair looking at Jim curiously. "Until?" he finally prompted.

"I just realized I was assuming you wanted to come back, Chief." Jim crossed his arms as if suddenly chilled. "Do you? Do you want to still be my partner? I mean, we can go back to the way it was, if you want to. You working me into your schedule if you can, or whatever. Believe me, I'll take what I can get. But you might be offered a position in another region, or--"

Blair closed his eyes and sighed. "You shouldn't have to take what you can get, Jim. That's just as wrong as me giving up my doctorate for you. No, 'wrong' isn't the word I'm looking for. Because it wasn't wrong for me to get you out of the spotlight. It would be just as 'sacrificial', and being the Sentinel shouldn't be a sacrifice. It stopped being a sacrifice when you made your choice to take that post."

"Being the Guide shouldn't be a sacrifice either. I know you never wanted to be a cop. I know you hate it when you strap on that gun each morning."

"'Hate' is too strong a word," Blair said softly. "And I'm not even sure 'dislike' applies anymore. Humans are adaptable, Jim, and I've adapted to your world. If the truth be told, I had adapted long before going to the academy. It's not just the adrenalin rush. It's also the intrigue, the mystery. Solving a case is like an intricate puzzle, and while working with you I've been challenged by some of the finest criminal minds in the world. That's heady stuff, Jim. The weight of a gun, especially one I've never fired, is no comparison.

"So yes, I want to come back. I want to be your partner, as a detective, maybe even a consultant. I know you don't need me--"

"I need you."

Blair shook his head. "You have this sentinel stuff down pat, man. When was the last time you zoned?"

"When was the last time I was without my partner?" Jim countered. "I haven't had any problems for the past year, because you've been with me, Blair."

Blair was stunned. He'd never looked at it quite that way before. Still.... "I'm not sure there's any more I can teach you. You've learned to compensate for the senses. If you have future problems, you will naturally adjust."

Bright blue eyes caught smoky ones. "That may or may not be true, but you didn't hear what I said, did you, Chief?"

"What?"

"I said I need you. Maybe the Sentinel can look after himself, but Jim Ellison needs his friend and partner."

"Oh." Blair flushed, not from embarrassment but from the tendril of heat that originated in his heart and flooded his entire body. Jim needed him. "Guess it's settled then?"

Jim shrugged. "Guess it is. And since Simon's paid for the food, we should go in and eat."

Blair nodded. "We're going to pay him back, right?"

"Sure. Next payday."

"Uh, Jim? We just got paid two days ago."

Jim grinned. "Yeah, I know."

Blair laughed. "Yeah, man. I have to hang around. You're just too wicked without me."

"Geez, Sandburg. You bucking to be my moral compass now? Watch out, Cascade!"

"Funny, Jim. Real funny."

The two men entered the loft.

"Everything okay?" Carolyn asked. Maybe Simon was comfortable with the situation, but she wasn't quite as flexible. It looked as if the two men had had a serious discussion outside, even if they were both grinning now.

Jim nodded. "Better get out another salad bowl, Chief. Naomi's coming up the stairs."

Carolyn blushed when Jim caught her looking at him. "It may be old hat to you guys, but it's still a surprise to me," she explained defensively.

Blair smiled. "Don't let Simon fool you, Carolyn. He still gets freaked out when Jim opens the door just as he's getting ready to knock."

"I do not," Simon argued.

"Do too."

"Not."

"Do."

"Not."

"Do."

"So, Carolyn, you still have regrets about us not having children?" Jim asked rather loudly.

"Well, if they were ours, we could send them to their room," Carolyn offered.

Jim's eyes widened dramatically. "Have you seen Sandburg's room? That would be cruel and unusual punishment."

"Jim."

"Yes, Chief?"

"Don't make me hurt you."

Jim snickered. "Yeah, right."

"Jim?"

"Yes, Simon?"

"He won't be hurting you by himself."

Jim laughed outright. "Carolyn will protect me. She likes me. At least that's what she said last night."

"Jimmy!" Carolyn said in feigned shock. She looked at her ex-husband's two friends. "Do with him what you will."

Jim rushed to the door and opened it. "Hi, Naomi. They want to abuse me, but you won't let them, right?"

No one ever called Naomi Sandburg slow. "Of course not, baby. You just hide behind Mother Naomi's coattail, and I'll protect you from the bullies."

Jim stepped behind her and stuck out his tongue at his tormentors. Everyone burst out laughing.

"So, Mom, what are you doing back so early?" Blair asked, getting out a stack of plates.

"Jim said I should stay close by. Besides, I just had to tell you the news about Serendipity's triplets. They...."

Everyone fell into private conversations as they sat around the dinner table. Blair listened attentively as Naomi told him about the lives of three of the most interesting companions he'd had during his childhood, while Jim and Simon filled Carolyn in on the official and not-so-official doings of her former colleagues. The atmosphere was light, although a current of anxiety never really faded. By the time they got around to opening their fortune cookies, everyone had been caught up on recent history, and they returned to general group conversation.

"'The past is gone. The future may never come. Revel in the present; it's a gift,'" Jim read after popping open the cellophane bag around his cookie. "I like that."

"How about this one?" Blair questioned, removing the wrap from his. "'If opportunity knocks, answer.'" He looked at Jim meaningfully. Jim just winked.

"Mine says, 'Don't get caught up in looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow; just enjoy the colors.' Oh, this is definitely a keeper," Naomi gushed.

Carolyn looked at Jim and read, "'Hurry not to throw away the old; new silver cannot compete with old gold.' I think my mother wrote this one," she added with a self-conscious laugh. "What did you get, Simon?"

"'Temper anxiety with patience.'" He looked at them all solemnly. "I guess that has to be our motto for a while."

"You didn't find a solution to your problem today, baby?" Naomi asked her son.

"No, Mom, and I really think you should consider moving on soon."

"I'm not leaving you in danger, honey. And it's not a very flattering trait to make your mother repeat herself," she chastised gently.

"I'm just worried about you, okay? This could get ugly quick."

"The only way I'm leaving is with you by my side, Blair. Are you prepared to come with me?"

Blair's eyes sought Jim's. "No."

"Then I'm here for the duration. Jim, Blair and I will do the dishes."

"You have to admire her iron will," Simon said as he followed Jim and Carolyn into the living room after they had helped clear the table.

"Like mother, like son. It's always interesting having two Sandburgs in residence," Jim replied.

"Interesting isn't quite the word I'd use," Simon muttered. "See what a big softie he's turned into since you've been gone, Plummer?"

"I'm still trying to catch up on the other changes, Simon. I know Wolfe wrote 'You Can't Go Home Again', but I don't think even he knew it could be this difficult."

"Hey, it hasn't all been difficult, has it?" Jim asked, reaching for Carolyn's hand.

She smiled warmly, giving his hand a squeeze. "No, some things have been better."

"If you two are going to get all gooey on me, I'm out of here," Simon said with an exaggerated grimace. "Listen, Jim. I'm writing you and Sandburg up as being on special assignment, so don't worry about coming in tomorrow. But I'm ordering you to keep me posted on a regular basis."

"Thanks, Captain. We'll definitely keep you informed."

"Plummer." Simon gave her a quick hug. "It's good seeing you again, no matter the reason."

"The same here, Simon. You'll stop by tomorrow, won't you?"

"Count on it. Someone has to keep the dynamic duo on the straight and narrow. And the fates have decreed me to be that someone. Ain't I lucky?"

"Yes," she whispered, knowing Jim could hear her. "But I won't tell them if you won't."

"On that note, I'm out of here. Goodnight, ladies and gentlemen."

Two hours later, Jim made the final rounds through the loft, checking doors and windows. When the Sentinel was satisfied that his immediate tribe was safely tucked away, he climbed the stairs and lay down beside his former mate.

But as he pulled up the covers, he realized a very strange thing: the crickets, both far and near, had stopped singing.

Chapter Nine

Jaguar surveyed his territory from high atop a tree, his coloring making him one with the surrounding darkness. The jungle was its usual noisy nocturnal self. Little things scurried, while bigger things watched and waited. When the smaller zigged rather than zagged, they were plucked up for a private feast, or perhaps were carried home to the young and incapacitated. Jaguar was content to let this happen; it was his kingdom, but Nature was the law.

But Eagle's scream rending the night wind had nothing to do with Nature's cycle. Quick as lightning, Jaguar leapt gracefully to the ground. With swift-footed assurance, he sped through the low, thick foliage, never faltering as he followed the cries of Eagle. They soon mixed with the enraged screech of Cougar, and the anguished howl of Wolf. When Jaguar grew near the place of conflict, he stopped his headlong rush, and approached the area with cautious stealth. Cougar and Wolf were strong and brave. What dared risk their wrath? What evil had defiled his world and threatened his friends?

Focusing his extraordinary eyes, he beheld a terrible sight: Eagle was completely covered in ants, her fragile body writhing in agony as the tiny beasts ravaged her, gnawing through feather and flesh. Wolf and Cougar were trying to reach her, but they too were being attacked, the ants defying paw and fur to swarm over the hapless animals as they tried to free their friend. Meerkat was there as well, using her claws to scrape the tenacious insects off of Eagle, unmindful of the ones that were crawling up her own slim body .

Jaguar hesitated to join the fight. He did not lack courage, but wondered if direct attack was wise. Eagle was dying, and her rescuers were not far behind. Surely there had to be an alternative. In the end, however, he could think of none, save leaving them to their destruction. Jaguar knew he could not live with that decision, so with a full-throated battle cry, he engaged the enemy.

The ants were not impressed.

Jim jerked awake, his heart pounding in his chest. Just a dream. A stupid, silly dream. He looked at the woman sleeping soundly beside him. At least he hadn't screamed, or done something equally embarrassing. It was bad enough when his nightmares woke Blair.

Carefully, he moved to the edge of the bed and sat up. Why the hell was he dreaming about army ants? The little bugs were insidious, devouring everything in their path, decimating by sheer numbers if not by stings and bites. He'd seen their "handiwork" when he was with the Chopec, but had never dreamed of them. Of course, he'd never dreamed of jaguars and wolves either until....

He paled. Not a dream, but a vision. Like shooting the wolf with his arrow. And the wolf was one of the animals being devoured by the ants. Oh, God. He reached out toward Carolyn, felt

her elevated temperature before he even made contact. No! He raced down the stairs and into Blair's room. His touch was so light that Naomi never stirred, his gasp of dismay so soft when he felt the warmth of her skin that she slept straight through it. With his heart in his throat, he approached the sofa. The heat drove him to his knees.

"Jim?"

He looked across the scant inches separating him from his Guide. "We've been exposed, Chief. I don't know when. I don't know how."

Blair took a deep breath, held it, then slowly let it go. "What do we do?" he asked calmly.

"You get dressed, then get the others up. I'll call 911." He headed for the phone in the kitchen while Blair popped on a lamp and reached for his clothes.

"911. How may we assist you?"

"I'd like to report possible exposure to a biological hazard."

"Sir?"

"I think my friends and I have been exposed to a biological agent."

"And why do you think this?"

"My companions have elevated temperatures--"

"Sir, are you aware that Cascade is experiencing an influenza outbreak?"

Jim hung up the phone.

"What?" Blair asked.

"They asked me if I knew the city was experiencing an influenza outbreak."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, my sentiments exactly. Go wake your mom and Carolyn. Things are probably going to move pretty fast after I make this next call." Jim recalled a number he'd only memorized in hopes of never having to remember it. Reluctant, but determined, he keyed the number in.

"You have reached the Northwest Regional Medical Command. How may we help you?"

Polite s.o.b.s, aren't you? Just in case someone dialed the wrong number, right? "Authorization code: EllisonPC001EX."

A series of clicks assaulted his ear as lines were switched and security protocols were put into place.

"Go ahead, Captain Ellison." Another polite voice.

"I've been compromised by a biological agent."

"Type?"

"Unknown. Request for immediate containment and therapy."

"Location?"

He gave the loft address, and belatedly added Simon's; he and Blair had discussed animals spirits one night over several bottles of beer, and had concluded Simon's was a cougar.

"How many potential exposees?"

"Five primaries: three males and two females."

"Teams are on their way. Sit tight, Captain."

"Thank you." Jim hung up the phone and lay his head against the wall.

"Jimmy?"

He opened his eyes. "I'm sorry, Carolyn. I don't know how they managed...."

"It's not your fault."

He shrugged. "I have to call Simon."

Carolyn gasped. "He was exposed, too?"

Jim nodded.

"How do you know that, Jim?" Blair asked as he entered the room with Naomi behind him.

Jim started to give him his patented answer of "I just do," but this was not the time to be holding back from his friends. "I had a dream, a vision. The wolf was there, Chief, as well as the cougar, the meerkat, and the golden eagle."

"Mom's the meerkat, right? So, that means Carolyn's the golden eagle?"

"That's what I figure." And the eagle was dying.

"What happened in the vision that makes you think we've been contaminated?"

"We were covered in army ants."

"Your psyche took microbes and translated them into actual bugs? Cool."

Jim shuddered. "You wouldn't think so if you'd seen the vision, Sandburg."

"Sorry, Jim. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay, Chief. None of us are at this moment. I better call Simon before he tries to shoot the Department of Defense."

"That's who you called?"

"Old habits." Jim picked up the phone, and dialed.

Blair ushered Naomi and Carolyn into the living room, sensing Jim didn't want an audience when he told Simon the news.

"What happens now, Blair?" Naomi asked.

"I guess we wait for the guys in army fatigues and gas masks." Naomi frowned. "Listen, Mom, we can't afford to be picky, okay? This is a kick-ass bug we've been exposed to."

"I'm so sorry," Carolyn said. "I never should have--"

"But you did," Blair interrupted. "You did, and no one here thinks you were wrong. Do you think Jim would have been happier hearing that you were found dead in your apartment of some unknown disease? You and I both know he would have tracked down your killer, and more than likely, we would have been exposed anyway. At least now, we have the Sentinel on our side. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like I'm sick. It could have been hours or maybe even days before we realized we'd been infected. But now, we'll get started on a cure right away. That has to make a difference."

"He said he had five heightened senses," Carolyn began, "but he didn't mention anything to me about visions."

Blair smiled. "He's changed, but there's still a lot of the Jim you married. It's taken some pretty intense situations to make him admit to himself that he can 'see' the future, or at least a possible version of the future anyway. It'll probably take a lot more to make him admit it to others."

"I don't understand his reluctance, honey," Naomi said. "I've never known Jim to be selfish. He should want to share his gifts with others."

"Mom, if it were money or food, Jim wouldn't hesitate to help his fellow man. But, it's like this. Jim was raised to believe that being different is wrong. Having five heightened senses and prophetic dreams make him very different. So, while he understands his gifts are not wrong, he still feels he's wrong because he has them."

"The two of you were talking about eagles and wolves?" Carolyn questioned.

"Spirit animals, Carolyn." Blair folded his legs under him on the sofa. "On the spirit plane we are represented by the animals that match the characteristics of our souls. Jim is a black jaguar, and I'm a wolf. We suspected Simon was a cougar; it's known for its leadership ability. Tonight Jim discovered that you were a golden eagle, highly prized for its courage and strength. He saw Mom was the meerkat, known for its maternal nurturing and its ability to live communally."

"Are all his visions like this?" Carolyn asked, fascinated by the idea.

"They vary depending on the strength of the portent. The stronger the warning, the more detailed the dream."

Naomi laid her head against her son's shoulder. "I don't remember any of this being in your dissertation, Blair."

"Because it wasn't there. My paper was about a man with five heightened senses, not six. To write about something so personal would have been a betrayal." He wrapped his arms around his mom. "But this extra sense may be our salvation. Let's just concentrate on that, okay?"

"He's a very special man, isn't he?"

"Yes, Mom. That's what I've been telling you all along."

"And you're a special man, too. You are his balance. I was wrong, wasn't I? It's not just your life anymore."

"No, it's not. And it's not just Jim's either. We work as a team; we are a team. That's why we've worked out what you brought to my attention yesterday."

"And?"

"And I'm going, but I'm also coming back. This is where I belong, Naomi."

"I'm starting to see that, Blair."

Jim came over and sat on the loveseat next to Carolyn. "They're here. They're setting up a contamination field around the building and specifically up to the loft."

"They think everyone in the building has been exposed?" Blair asked anxiously.

"It's just a precaution, Chief. I'm pretty certain it's limited to the five of us."

"What can we expect, Jimmy? The standard postexposure prophylaxis until the agent can be determined?"

Jim nodded. "Heavy dosages of broad spectrum antibiotics, close monitoring of vitals, probable isolation."

"Isolation?"

"Yeah, Chief. We'll probably be taken to a military hospital, and be assigned isolation chambers until it can be determined whether what we have is communicable."

"Isolated from the outside world, or each other?"

"Both. But I'm pretty certain we'll be on the same floor, which means I'll know what's happening to each of you."

Blair gave a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear. So, is this now a totally military operation, and is that a good thing or a bad one?"

Jim gave a small smile. "A little of both. The military has done the most research into bioweapons, so we'll have the latest facts and figures at our disposal. The bad part is that we're dealing with the military and they have a tendency to cast the truth aside if they deem it necessary."

"Ah, but we have our own private lie detector. I mean, even without your sentinel skills, you are quick to recognize bullshit in its various forms, right, Jim?"

"I've found it a useful talent when dealing with stubborn, quick-witted roommates," Jim replied with a grin.

"Must be talking about you, Carolyn," Blair quipped.

Carolyn narrowed her eyes. "No wonder Jimmy doesn't need special skills to detect your bullshit, Sandburg. Even I can smell it. What about you, Naomi?"

Naomi smiled serenely. "I'm his mother; I'm biologically designed to instantly detect and dismiss his bullshit."

"Mom!"

"Come on, baby. You know how you were as a child. Don't you remember--" She stopped when Jim stood, but he motioned for her to continue as he made his way to the door.

"Captain Ellison?" Jim nodded at the lead blue-suited figure standing in his doorway. "I'm Dr. Branson. I have three other doctors with me, and a team of investigators."

Jim motioned for them to come in. Each doctor went to a patient, asking questions and taking vitals.

"Why do you suspect this is a biological incident, Captain?" Branson asked, getting out his stethoscope.

"There was the possibility of a threat."

Branson nodded, used to military double-speak. "Dispatch indicated the pathogen was unknown. Do you have any suspicions?"

"Anthrax."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not exhibiting any symptoms, which would be expected since I've been vaccinated against it. Also, the symptoms the others are exhibiting match the disease. However, the incubation period is off. If exposure occurred when I think it did, the incubation will be measured in hours, not days."

"A new strain?" He cleaned a patch on Jim's arm, inserted a hypo, and drew a vial of blood. "We'll get this down to the facility in San Francisco. They have the means to identify Bacillus anthracis rather rapidly." He handed the vial to a technician, explaining that the others needed to be collected and immediately put on transport. He also told him to inform the other doctors of the possibility of anthrax exposure.

"Okay, Captain, we're going to start the appropriate therapy. Because you have been vaccinated, your course of treatment will be less comprehensive than that of your companions. Just an antibiotic as a precaution. Do you have any allergies?" Jim handed him a notebook. He flipped through the pages, then looked up at his patient. "Have you had a booster shot this year?"

"Less than six months ago."

"Then maybe we'll skip the precautionary dose. I'm not sure it's worth the risk." He looked again at the notebook he was holding. "It must be a bitch to treat you, Captain."

"You should talk to the staff at Cascade General. I think they draw straws every time I'm wheeled into the emergency room. Short straw gets me," Jim said distractedly, listening to the other conversations in the room. "What's going to happen now?"

"We have a van downstairs. You'll be taken to a helicopter, and transported to the Naval Hospital at Oak Harbor. Management is getting your rooms ready even as we speak."

"Will there be a chocolate on my pillow?"

"I'll make sure they put some in your IV bag," Branson joked. "I'm going to do a quick consult with the other doctors. You want to inform your people of our plans?"

Jim nodded, his lip quirking upward at the thought of "his" people. He hadn't realized just how "tribal" the military was, always assigning people to groups. "Everyone doing okay?" he asked as the doctors congregated in the kitchen area to go over their initial findings.

"I can't quite recall the last time I was pumped so thoroughly full of poisons," Naomi said, then realized she was close to whining. "But I'm sure it's for the best."

"It is, Mom," Blair said quickly. "I know you prefer the natural methods, but I don't think there's anything natural about Sirocco. How are you, Jim? Did you show the doctor your list of allergies?"

"You can stand down, Chief. I wasn't given anything. If it's what I suspect, I've already been inoculated against it."

"What do you suspect, Jimmy?"

"That it's a form of anthrax."

Carolyn frowned. "That sounds too simple. I mean, anthrax would be the first agent tested for, right?"

Jim nodded. "It's cheap, easy to get, easy to grow, and is hearty enough to survive delivery. Hey, I thought you didn't know anything about bio-weapons."

"I didn't say I didn't know anything; I just asked if you did," she pointed out with a satisfied look.

"Between you and Sandburg, I'm going to have trouble keeping up," Jim muttered.

"Face facts, Ellison," Blair said, with a smug smile. "You were having trouble keeping up anyway."

"I'd be angry if it wasn't so true, Chief. Listen, I was right about us being moved to a military facility. We're going to be taken to Oak Harbor, and kept in isolation until they get the results of our blood tests."

"Jimmy, I know you're a sentinel, but quite frankly, the results of my exam didn't show much of anything. My temperature was barely elevated, and although I'm a little fatigued, I've only had about an hour of sleep. Are you sure--"

Jim took her hand, stroking the smooth skin. "Yes, Carrie. I'm sure."

"Captain?" Branson approached them. "We need to get you suited up for transport."

Four yellow-suited people were marched down through a polyvinyl tube and into a van, along with an equal number of blue-suited figures. Conversation didn't exist as the vehicle rumbled along. As it pulled to a stop, Jim heard a similar vehicle stop beside it, so he wasn't surprised to see Simon when he stepped outside.

"Uniform of the day, huh?" Simon asked, indicating the yellow suit. "I feel like an extra on a sci-fi flick."

"You know what's happening?"

"About our trip to Oak Harbor? Yeah. Where's the helicopter?"

"It's on its way."

"You guessing, or you know?"

"I can hear it."

Simon nodded, rubbing his arm. "These people are hypo-happy. I don't know how you stand it with your sensitive skin, Jim."

"All they did was take my blood."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm ninety-nine percent sure what we were exposed to was anthrax, and I've been vaccinated."

Simon stared at his friend through two layers of protective plastic. "I thought only military personnel were vaccinated."

Jim's eyes went to the sky. "Chopper's here, sir. And don't worry about work tomorrow. I'm sure the DOD will come up with a believable lie. It's sort of their forte."

Simon let the helicopter settle before reaching out to squeeze Jim's arm. "And what's your forte, Jim?"

"Load 'em up, Captain Ellison!" Branson yelled.

Jim turned to take Carolyn's arm. "Protecting the tribe, Simon. At any cost."

Simon nodded, wondering why he'd asked.

*****

The steward handed Freer the phone and walked out of the plane's main cabin.

"Yeah?" Freer said, noting Lambert's discerning gaze. "What? That's impossible! How? Damn it, someone had to leak-- No! Don't do anything, except keep me informed!" He tossed the phone onto the seat beside him.

"Trouble?" Lambert asked, lifting a wry eyebrow.

"They are already aware of their exposure, and are currently en route to Oak Harbor."

"The naval hospital?"

Freer grimaced. "Somehow Ellison got the DOD involved."

"I warned you that the man was dangerous."

"Fuck, Ellison! What I want to know is who mouthed off about the deployment. No way in hell should they have suspected anything until morning! We have a leak somewhere in your organization," Freer snarled, punching the leather sofa he was sprawled on. He picked up the phone and furiously started jabbing numbers into it.

Lambert sat in his chair and peered out into the near darkness that surrounded the plane. Traveling west to east meant they were rushing to meet the dawn instead of vice versa. Curious. Just what else were they rushing into, and did it have the same capability to burn them to cinders as the rising sun did?

Lambert truly worried that the answer was yes.

Chapter Ten

Hospitals. Military, private, public, he hated them all. Jim prowled the tiny cubicle he'd been assigned when they arrived at the naval hospital in the wee hours of the morning. His clothing taken away for testing, he'd been told to shower thoroughly, and had emerged from the equally tiny bathroom to find a hospital gown and robe waiting for him. He'd tried to sleep like Dr. Branson had suggested, but the sheets were scratchy, and the antiseptic smell of the room was close to making him nauseated. Instead, he had sat on top of the covers, and sent his hearing out. He'd found Blair immediately, his room to his right. Knowing Jim would be searching for him, Blair had been quietly talking to his Sentinel, explaining that he was okay, that the antibiotics were making him sleepy, and since the government was kind enough to provide him with a bed, he was going to take advantage of it because, hey, he thought the only thing the government gave out for free was cheese.

Grinning, Jim had extended his hearing further, finding Simon by combining smell with his hearing. No matter how much Simon washed, the Sentinel would always be able to smell the tobacco, which was an intricate part of his captain. He'd almost zoned trying to locate the two women, and had had to give up. He just didn't know them as well as the men. But that was the story of his life, wasn't it? He'd never had one sustained relationship with a female, except for Sally. However, she was not only hired help, but she'd had a sustained relationship-- and still had one-- with his father, which meant she wasn't exactly a typical female. As if you'd know what the hell a typical female was, Ellison. You can't go by the ones who divorced you, betrayed you, tried to murder you, etc. Oh, and let's not forget Alex who wanted to merge with you....

Anyway, he'd eventually drifted off for a few hours, but now he was awake and eager to talk to his friends and the doctors. He didn't try to connect with Blair and Simon again for fear that the medical staff would walk in and become too curious. He couldn't afford to slip while in government care. As it was, by making that call he'd already given them temporary control of his life. It would be so easy for them to make it permanent.

"You know, with you wearing that hospital gown, I could call you the devil in the blue dress," a voice said as the door opened.

"You could, but you love me too much to humiliate me. After all, I haven't even had a chance to shave my legs," Jim replied with a saucy grin. "Lynne, it's good to see you." He gave her a quick hug. "Still short, I see?"

"Still full of it, I see," the woman said, a wide smile adorning her light brown face. "And still getting into trouble."

"You know me, Reese; trouble just can't seem to stay away." He perched on the corner of the bed while she took the only chair in the room. "What is it that I've stepped into that has the commander of USAMRIID taking over the case personally?"

"It's just as you figured-- anthrax, but it's not following any known pattern of infection."

Jim nodded. "The spores germinated too fast."

"Exactly. That's why we've decided to keep you all in isolation. Normally, anthrax isn't transmitted from person to person, but until we're sure of what we're dealing with, I think it best to err on the side of caution. The only reason I'm not in protective gear is that your blood work has come back nearly clean. Just the dregs of a few dead spores remain. So we are assuming the vaccine works on this strain as well."

"How are the others doing?"

"Your companions are in stage one of the disease."

Jim knew that anthrax was a biphasic disease, meaning it had two distinct stages. The first mimicked a case of the flu. It generally did not result in death." I guess I shouldn't be too upset that 911 wouldn't listen to me."

"What?"

"The standard protocol in this situation is to call 911, right? Well, I did, but I didn't have time to argue with them that my friends weren't suffering from the flu outbreak."

Lynne shook her head. "We have tried to make operators understand the seriousness of such a threat, but there have been so many hoaxes."

"But it only takes one instance that isn't a hoax to destroy a city."

"I know. I'll look into that immediately."

"How sick are they?" Jim asked worriedly.

"The usual. Chills, muscular weakness, fever. We're doing our best to keep them comfortable, and the necessary equipment is on hand in case the symptoms escalate."

Escalate. Stage two: sudden fever, heavy sweating, difficulty in breathing, hemorrhagia, delirium, cyanosis, shock. When that point was reached, death occurred in mere hours. "Can I see them?"

Lynne sighed. "I knew you were going to ask that question. How close are you to them?"

"Why?"

"Because, although the commander in me is saying it's out of the question, the doctor in me knows the value of human interaction."

"Carolyn Plummer is my ex-wife, but the term is misleading. Blair Sandburg is not only my partner on the force, but my roommate and my best friend. Simon Banks is my captain and a very good friend. Naomi Sandburg is Blair's mother. That makes her very special to me," he said sincerely.

"Well, I'll have to consult with the other physicians."

Branson chose that moment to stick his head inside the cubicle. "You're awake, Captain. I just wanted to--" The doctor stopped when he saw his colleague. "Colonel Reese. Are you taking over Captain Ellison's case personally?"

Lynne laughed. "Hardly. I just stopped by to gawk at his legs."

"Hussy," Jim rebuked, tongue firmly planted in his cheek. "A shameless hussy who can make a sailor blush with her language."

"Only when I'm scared to death. Ordinarily, I make my grandmother very proud of me."

"Isn't that sweet?" Jim droned.

Branson looked back and forth between the two of them. "I take it the two of you knew each other previously?"

"Nope. Just met about five minutes ago." The two people in question laughed aloud at Lynne's answer.

"We're old acquaintances," Lynne finally told the doctor. "That's why I came to fill him in on what's going on. I didn't mean to trespass on your territory."

"Poach all you want to, Colonel. I'd just as soon spend my time in the lab trying to understand the pathogenesis of this particular strain of anthrax."

"Did you find out how we were exposed?" Jim asked.

"The Chinese food. Spores were found in the wrappings the fortune cookies came in."

"That doesn't make sense," Lynne argued. "We're definitely dealing with inhalational anthrax, not gastrointestinal."

"The wrappings were filled with air, and the spores were released as an aerosol when the packs were torn open."

"But we couldn't possibly have been exposed to the number of spores needed to cause the disease. The effective dosage is about 10,000 spores, right? I can't see us being exposed to that many from breathing the air in one of those tiny packets," Jim said.

"Another anomaly we have to research, Captain," Branson said. "So far, this strain has been more inconsistent than consistent. In the end, I think we're going to be rewriting some manuals. Well, I'll let you two get back to your visit."

"Oh, Dr. Branson, would it be all right for the captain to visit his friends?"

"I have no problem with it. I'll consult with the others and let you know. Colonel, Captain." He bobbed his head and left.

"What's with the captain bit, Jim? I thought you were a civilian these days," Lynne asked with a speculative look on her face.

"Sort of. I'm what the handbook would call, if there was a handbook, a 'provisory civilian.' Only those who are offered the status have any knowledge of it. I think it's still in the pilot stage."

"What exactly does it mean?"

"That my civilian status is conditional; either side may recall it."

"Who did in this case?"

"I did. As I said before, I didn't have time to waste with 911."

"Who is it offered to?"

"Military personnel who have unique skills or training. If something catastrophic were to happen, the military would like to be able to call on us without having to go through the paperwork. Similarly, if one of us stumbles upon a situation that could compromise national security, we'd want to be able to handle it without fear of later reprisals, or delay as we sought permission."

"So, in other words, you're still in the Army-- just a plainclothesman."

"'Captain' is just a convenient designation. Actually, I'm not in a particular branch. I answer to the Department of Defense itself."

"Sounds like an option I might be interested in," she mused.

Jim shook his head. "Lynne, they're going to have to carry you out of USAMRIID on a stretcher," he predicted. "You love what you're doing, and you know it's making a difference. It's only when I lost that feeling that I got out."

A knock at the door, and an ensign entered. "Colonel Reese, I have the latest reports and Dr. Branson said to tell you that Captain Ellison has permission to visit the others."

"Thank you, Ensign." She stood and took the stack of folders, flipping through them. "Your friends are looking good. The antibiotics have already stopped the bacteria from replicating. The effects of this strain seem muted. I wonder if it's a by-product of the other differences."

"Either they had some bad researchers or we're missing something, Lynne. For every 'improvement' this version of anthrax has, there's a counterpoint which weakens the disease."

She shrugged. "Good help is hard to find these days, and no ethical scientist would stoop to bioterrorism."

"Unless he or she works for you?" Jim couldn't help but add, earning himself a very pointed look.

"Even an unethical scientist," she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "would have to think twice about getting involved in something so potentially devastating. By the way, Captain, I was under the impression that you wanted to go visit your friends. However, certain comments point in another direction."

Jim tried to look sufficiently sheepish. "Sorry, Colonel. Putting my foot in my mouth is a nasty habit of mine."

"Well, maybe you better get going before you repeat your mistake. And, Jim? No more than five minutes with each. They really do need their rest."

He nodded his understanding. "Thanks, Lynne. And thanks for putting up with me."

She smiled. "You were right earlier; I do love what I do. And I love it much more when it becomes personal, when I can make a difference in a friend's life. In other words, it's time for me to get my butt back to the lab. I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

"I'll walk out with you."

*****

Jim looked at the restless figure in the bed, and held back the despair that threatened to escape. He'd seen Blair look worse; hell, he'd nursed him through worse at the loft. The beads of sweat above his top lip, the sheen it gave his entire face, and the ruddiness beneath the sheen were all quite familiar. If only the 911 operator had been right; if only it was the flu that was causing these symptoms.

"Jim?" Blair asked even before he opened his eyes.

"Right here, Chief."

"My mom?"

"You're all holding your own," Jim said quickly, sitting in the chair at the side of the bed. "Lynne seems to think the disease has been weakened by whatever these guys did to it."

"Lynne? You chatting up the nurses, Jim? That's supposed to be my job," he said in a weak protest.

"And it's one you can have. Besides, Lynne's a doctor, and I haven't been chatting her up. She's an old friend, and head of USAMRIID."

"Whoa, man. You said you had a contact at USAMRIID. You didn't say she was USAMRIID!" He fumbled at the bed controls. "Why is she here?"

"Chief, the name is the U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. Part of its mission is to develop strategies, products, information, procedures, and training programs for medical defense against biological warfare. Why do you think she's here?" Jim helped him raise the head of the bed slightly.

"So, are we that bad off that the head of the Institute has to be here personally? I've seen our government at work, Jim. The only time the big guns come out is when major crap is about to hit the fan."

"That's not why she's here, Chief. It's just that my earlier call intrigued her, so when she heard we were being brought in--"

"Oh, she's here because she's your friend," Blair said with a relieved sigh. "That I can understand. Have they determined how we were exposed?"

"The Chinese take-out."

"We have to do something about your taste in food, Jim. Golden-laced pizza, Chinese with extra germ on the side. You're definitely a nutritionist's nightmare." He paused in the middle of an inhalation. "Sometimes it feels like there's a ten-ton anvil sitting on my chest."

"I know, Chief. It'll get better soon. All this talking is probably not helping, so I'm--"

"You don't have to go. I'll be quiet."

Jim shook his head. "Lynne made me promise not to stay longer than five minutes. She's a very mean woman, but don't tell her I told you that," he whispered conspiratorially.

"You'll come back soon?"

"You know it, buddy. Maybe they'll let me visit again in the afternoon."

"Only if you behave yourself," Blair warned, wanting to laugh but wheezing instead.

"I'll be on my best behavior, Chief. You have my word."

Jim stepped out into the hallway, and listened for a minute as Blair drifted back to sleep. He continued toward Simon's room, and found the captain on the telephone. He was just going to wave and leave, but Simon motioned for him to enter, then hung up the phone.

"I was just talking to Joel. It seems that everyone believes we were stricken by some mutant fungus that was growing on your ventilation fan. Your building has been completely evacuated and Hazmat has sealed it off until such time as the fungus is completely extracted. Neat lie, huh?"

"Only the best from the U.S. government, sir." Jim looked at Simon, noting his fever wasn't as high as Blair's, but he could tell the captain's breathing was deliberately shallow. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurts like hell when I take a deep breath. Think this is a sign I should give up my cigars?"

"It would probably be a good idea in the long run, Simon," Jim said honestly.

"How are the others?"

"Doing about the same as you. You're all doing extremely well, by the way. It seems this is a very mild strain of the disease."

Simon coughed, holding onto his chest to minimize the pain. "Glad I don't have to deal with the more severe strains then. Does this visit mean you get to get out of here?"

Jim shook his head. "Too many unknowns to let me walk just yet. I just wanted to see how everyone was. I just saw Sandburg, and now I'm on my way to see Carolyn and Naomi. I only get five minutes with each of you, so let me go before they kick me out. After all, I promised Sandburg I'd be on my best behavior."

"You take care, Jim. I know you've been vaccinated and all, but if you're still in the Army--"

"Just think of it as an Army Reserve weekend, sir. As soon as this is over, I'll report to work as usual."

"Good. I just got you and your partner housebroken."

"Uh, that's something we have to talk about. But it's not something you have to deal with at this very moment."

"I'll take your word for it, detective. Just give me enough time to either cover your asses or mine."

"Will do, sir. Now, leave the telephone alone and rest."

"Just because you happen to be upright...." Jim heard Simon continue to mutter as he left.

He reached Naomi's room next. She appeared to be sleeping, but some part of Jim sensed that she was in a deep meditative trance. Probably some healing ritual. He shrugged, and left her to it. As long as she was attached to an IV and being fed the necessary antibiotics, he didn't care how she supplemented her treatment.

Finally, he came to Carolyn's room. As he had with Blair, he stood next to the bed and looked at her. She was sleeping, sweat beading on her face and neck. A few steps took him to the bathroom, where he wet a washcloth, and proceeded to wipe her face.

"Feels good," she murmured, opening her eyes. "Guess your super senses really do work."

"Guess so."

"What about the others? How are they doing?"

"You're all feeling the same general crappiness. But the doctors seem to think this is a lot less serious than we imagined. I think ninety percent lethality was an imaginary number. Or someone was trying to get paid for a faulty product."

"Maybe the bad part comes later."

"The bacteria have stopped replicating, Carrie. That means they are no longer creating the toxins that are the actual killers with anthrax. You just have to deal with the toxin that's already in your system." He left to cool the towel again.

"You certainly know this disease well," Carolyn said, when Jim went back to his ministrations. "Don't tell me: you learned it in The Modern Soldier 101."

"401-- it was an advanced class," he teased. He moved the towel across her neck, then bent over to place his lips ever so gently against hers. "Listen, Plummer, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I love you."

She looked at him curiously. "Why would I take it the wrong way?"

"Because in movies when someone says that to a person in the hospital--"

"They're pretty much a goner," Carolyn agreed.

"Yeah, but I'm telling you this now, simply because I'm slow. I should have told you when I held you in the airport, and when we made love at the loft."

"Bed or bathroom?" she asked impishly.

"Both."

"I love you too, Jim, but what does that mean?"

He used the towel to stroke her face. "It means that we have something to work for, that we talk, and we move extremely slow. I don't want to have to watch you leave me again."

"And I don't want to have to leave," she agreed.

"About leaving.... My five minutes are up, sweetheart. You need to rest." He kissed her again. "I'll see you later."

She nodded. When he reached the door, she called out, "Hey, Ellison?"

"Yeah, Plummer?"

"Say it again."

"I love you, Carrie."

He heard her smile all the way back to his room.


Continue on to Part III

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

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