The medical examiner pulled back the bloody sheet and looked over the bullet shattered body. “So they finally got you, you sick son-of-a-bitch,” he muttered under his breath. The dead eyes stared back at him as he jabbed the huge needle deep into the chest just below the left clavicle, probing until at last a flash of dark red appeared in the sixty cc syringe. It filled quickly with the still warm blood. He handed it to the nurse and she filled half a dozen different tubes with it before dropping it into a sharps box.

“Find anything?” the weary sheriff asked from the doorway.

“I’d say he died of multiple gunshot wounds,” the doctor answered glibly without looking up.

“No. You know what I’m asking.”

“You’re asking me what turns a young, soft spoken family man into a fucking animal?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“We’ll ship the body to Chapel Hill for the autopsy. If he’s some kind of monster they’ll let us know.”

“Shut up, you sarcastic old bastard. This kid grew up with my daughter. He was never anything but respectful and polite….”

“I’m sorry, Phil. I really am. But I’ve been in this room too many times lately with the lifeless bodies of my fellow citizens. I don’t know why Robert suddenly developed a hunger for blood. All I know is that it’s over now.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” the sheriff sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “Thank God, it’s over.”

“Hey, Patty. You all packed?” the nurse asked as she entered the lab, colored vials in gloved hand.

“All set to go. My flight is tomorrow afternoon.”

“It’s a shame you had to take call on your last night. Where are you moving again?”

“Cascade, Washington . Don’t get me wrong, I love North Carolina , but I can’t wait to get home.”

“Well thanks for coming in tonight. Dr. Hall really appreciates it.”

“Sure he does,” Patty smirked as she took the vials and laid them on the counter. “You got what you need?”

“Yeah, I already packed up the samples that need to go with the body. But you know Dr. Hall. He wants the usual run on these.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Patty said cheerfully.

“Listen, if I don’t see you, good luck.” The nurse pulled the much shorter woman in for a quick hug.

“Thanks. You, too,” Patty said and smiled at her coworker. “I think I’m going to miss this place.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over that in a hurry,” the nurse called over her shoulder as she left.

“I’m sure I will,” Patty mused as she reached for a pair of gloves. One of the vials rolled off the counter, seemingly under its own power. Patty instinctively grabbed it, catching it before it could hit the floor. The glass tube seemed to pulse in her hand and she almost dropped it in shock. Suddenly it shattered, the shards digging into her fingers. The blood from the vial mingled freely with her own.

She felt a spasm rush through her and although her mind screamed to her about blood borne pathogens, her body refused to move. Sometime later she snapped out of her little traumatic freeze up and deposited what was left of the tube into a plastic container and quickly washed her hands with antiseptic soap. Much to her surprise and relief, she had been mistaken. There was no sign that the glass had pierced her skin. Somewhat baffled, she double gloved and cleaned up the mess before running the expected tests on the dead man’s blood.

EIGHT DAYS LATER
Cascade Washington

“Oh, man,” Blair grumbled as they approached the car. “Turn down your sense of smell,” he instructed unnecessarily. “Waaay down.”

“No kidding,” Jim answered under his breath, screwing up his face until he got his unruly nose under control. “What have we got?” he asked Dan Wolf from the coroner’s office.

“It looks like the body has been in the trunk for awhile, maybe two or three days judging by the decomposition. It has been unseasonably hot, so it may not have been that long. We’ll know more once we get to the lab.”

“Cause of death?”

“Exsanguination.”

“Ew,” Blair said as he peeked into the trunk over Jim’s shoulder. “If he bled to death, where’s the blood?”

“That’s the question indeed,” Dan said seriously. “There are several short, deep cuts on the body that were made at different times while the man was still alive. There aren’t any defensive injuries, which made me look closer at his wrists. Sure enough, he has ligature marks on them and his ankles. He was tied up for awhile and very much alive until too much blood was taken.”

“Taken? As in on purpose?” Jim frowned.

“Vampirism?” Blair asked.

“Whoa, hold on there, Chief,” Jim protested. “Don’t go twilight zone on me.”

“I’m not talking about night of the living dead here, Jim. There are psychological disorders where people actually drink human blood. Of course there are also people who do it just for kicks. Maybe they just went too far.”

“Well don’t go around saying words like ‘vampire’ or ‘werewolf’ too loud. I’d hate for the press to latch on to that. Let’s just stick with what we know,” Jim cautioned. “Dan? What do we know?”

“We know that somebody for reasons unknown methodically drained this man of his blood,” Dan said. “Sounds like a vampire to me,” he added with a wink at Blair.

“Russell McAllister, thirty-nine years old, lab technician at County General for the last ten years,” Simon read out loud from the file in his hand.

“His wife reported him missing six days ago after he didn’t come home from work,” Jim supplied.

“We went to see her this morning. She went to pieces when we told her about her husband. I don’t think she had anything to do with it,” Blair said confidently.

“Is that right, Sandburg?” Simon scoffed.

“Yeah, Simon, I know that a lot of times you don’t have to look any further than the family to find the murderer, but this feels different to me. It has ritualistic overtones,” Blair insisted.

“He thinks it was a vampire,” Jim teased.

Blair shot an exasperated look at his partner. “I just have a nasty suspicion that we’re going to be seeing more of this.”

“For once, kid, I hope you’re wrong,” Simon conceded and settled behind his desk. “So get out of my office and catch the guy. Both of you,” he growled.

“He just said that I’m usually right. Didn’t he?” Blair asked with a grin as Jim shut the office door behind them.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jim smirked as he ruffled Blair’s hair.

She felt uncomfortably hungry as she filled out the log while the nurse waited for the unit of blood. Together they checked the name, number, type, and date. The burgundy liquid inside of the plastic pouch felt cold in her hand; distinctly unappetizing. Beside her the other woman shifted impatiently and she could almost smell the warmth pulsing through her body, hot and ready for the taking. She licked her lip and shuddered with need.

“You okay?” the nurse asked. “You don’t look too hot.”

“I haven’t eaten yet,” she explained, trying to steady her shaking hands.

“Oh, sorry, I know how it is, but I really need that blood.”

She showed the nurse where to sign and watched disappointedly as she left. “Yeah, me too,” she sighed staring at row after row of the little plastic bags lined up in the blood bank cooler, handy, but hardly a meal. She made a distasteful decision and reached into the fridge.

“Excuse me,” a man said from the door, causing her to jump and pull back.

“You’re not supposed to be back here,” she snapped as if caught. “Blood bank employees only.”

“Actually, I’m Detective Ellison and this is my associate Blair Sandburg. I’d like to talk to you about Russell McAllister.”

“Mr. McAllister? He’s my supervisor,” she said distractedly, noticing the shorter of the two men. He smelled absolutely heavenly, his blood rich and sweet. She bit her lip and stared at him.

“Was,” Sandburg said quietly. “He was killed last week. His body was found this morning.”

“Oh,” she replied hesitantly. “I only met him once. I just started here and then he wasn’t around.”

“Can you tell us anything about him?” the detective asked.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t even know his first name until just now. Maybe you should talk to Ms. Marsh. She’s been in charge since…. well, all week.”

“I’m Eleanor Marsh,” an attractive black woman said from the door. The taller man turned and began to speak to her.

Patty watched with interest, listening unashamedly, but her eyes kept drifting to the younger man. “Hi. I’m Patty Simmons,” she said to him at last, drawing him away from the interview.

“Hi, I’m Blair,” the man said uncomfortably and moved closer to her so as not to disturb the conversation.

“You must eat a really well balanced diet,” she blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Blair asked, picking up a strange vibe from the woman.

“I just get a very natural feeling from you.” She edged closer. “Your aura is so clean.”

“Oh, um, I try to eat right I guess. I slip up sometimes, you know, pizza” Sandburg babbled nervously as he backed slowly away, stopping only when he hit the counter. “I do use, um, certain cleansing… herbs.”

“Mmm,” she murmured as she closed in on him. Leaning deeply into his personal space, she sniffed him intensely. Blair shot a not quite panicked look towards his partner’s back, but the other man was oblivious to his plight.

“I know this might seem forward of me, but I’ve got to see you tonight,” she purred into his ear, breathing heavily against his neck.

“Um, well, that sounds very nice,” he hedged. “Maybe under different circumstances…. Um, Jim?”

She couldn’t resist a taste and pressed her mouth against him. Blair made a startled noise and jumped away from her, slapping a hand to his neck. Keeping his widened eyes on her he brought his hand up and spared a quick glimpse at the small spot of blood on his finger. She licked her lips and practically drooled.

“I’ll be seeing you, Blair Sandburg,” she whispered roughly.

The cop turned around and glanced at them questioningly. “You ready, Chief?” he asked.

“Oh, more than ready,” Blair blurted out and moved quickly through the door.

Jim finally caught up to Sandburg in the lobby.

“You get anything?” Blair asked, still looking a little wild eyed as they stepped into the late afternoon sunshine.

“Not really. What about you? You seemed to be working that little red head pretty hard.”

“Me? Working her? Oh, I don’t think so,” Blair denied vehemently. “She gave me the creeps. There’s something wrong with that girl.”

“What do you mean?” Jim asked, shooting Blair a dubious look.

“I mean, she bit me,” Blair exclaimed.

“Bit you, as in…”

“As in BIT me. On the neck!”

“Let me see,” Jim commanded urgently.

Blair stopped walking and pulled back his hair.

“Crap. Why didn’t you say something? She did this with her teeth?”

“I just wanted out of there and of course she did it with her teeth. You think she gummed the blood out of my neck?”

“Sorry, stupid question. I’ve got a first aid kit in the truck. We need to clean that. Human bites are notorious for getting infected,” Jim put his hand on Blair’s back and moved him towards the parking lot. “Do you want to press charges?”

“No, but I do think we need to check her out. Sane people don’t go around biting people they’ve never met before. How do you know so much about human bites?”

“You don’t seriously think she’s our killer do you? Come on, she’s not more than a hundred pounds. How could she have hefted six foot three McAllister into the trunk of his car? And I know more than you think.”

They reached the truck and Blair leaned against it as Jim dug around for the first aid kit. “She could have had help lifting the body; an accomplice or even a group like a cult or something.”

“Hold your hair back, this is gonna sting.”

“Ow, quit,” Blair whined and tried to pull away as Jim cleaned the small wound with one hand and held him in place with the other.

“Hold still. You really should get some blood work done. I wish you had said something sooner. Do you know what kind of germs can pass through saliva into blood?”

Blair nodded and looked at his feet. “What do we do?”

“You should file a complaint. That way we can get blood drawn on her, too. Just to double check. Come on. Let’s go back in. We need to take care of this right away.”

“Hey, I’m Laura,” the same nurse that had been in earlier said as she poked her head through the door. “I’m out of here. If you still haven’t had lunch, I’d be glad to pick something up for you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Patty said, still lusting after the man who had just left. She really wanted that one, but she was willing to take what she could get. Besides, she knew his name. If she made a few arrangements, she could contact him later and really enjoy him. Making up her mind she turned back to the one on hand. “I’m done, too. Let me take you to lunch,” she replied.

“Sandburg okay?” Simon asked as Jim entered his office.

“He’s a little spooked,” Jim admitted reluctantly.

“What? He thinks he’s gonna turn into a vampire?”

Jim glared at his boss. “I’m glad you think this is funny, sir. I think hepatitis and aids are more of a concern for him right now than turning into a vampire. That girl is seriously off her rocker to bite somebody in a public place with a police detective less than ten feet away. And now she’s missing.”

“You’re right,” Simon said raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry. So if you were less than ten feet away, how come you didn’t see or hear the attack?”

Jim flushed. “I was conducting an interview,” he said guiltily.

“Do you think that this girl had anything to do with our dead body?” Simon asked, changing the subject.

“It looks that way. After she attacked Sandburg we did a little more digging. We found a witness who saw her get into McAllister’s car the night he disappeared. I still don’t see how she would be strong enough to overpower him.”

“Could she have drugged him?”

“Not according to the autopsy. She could have had help, as Blair pointed out. I would definitely describe her as blood thirsty. You should see Sandburg’s neck.”

“Maybe she seduced him into letting her tie him up and then changed the rules. Stranger things have happened,” Simon pointed out.

“Maybe,” Jim agreed. “He was restrained.”

There was a tap at the door and Rafe stuck his head in. “Jim, Dan Wolf just called from the docks. He said he’s got another Cascade General employee.”

Blair sulked around the loft thinking morbid thoughts and jumping at every little noise. He felt itchy inside of his skin, restless, almost like a sugar high. Jim had insisted that he didn’t need him and Blair gratefully headed for home to try and unwind. Thoughts of Patty Simmons kept invading his mind, much as she had invaded his personal space in the lab. He took every opportunity to stare in the mirror at the teeth marks on his neck, now a lovely shade of purple.

He couldn’t explain it, but he had known she was evil as soon as she got close to him. It wasn’t every day that a good looking woman made him feel like a slab of meat, and not in a good way. He’d felt strangely repulsed by and attracted to her at the same time.

The phone rang, all but sending him into orbit. “Hello,” he said after he calmed down enough to answer it.

“Looks like you were right, Chief. They just pulled a dead nurse out of the bay,” Jim said. “A security guard saw her leave with guess who.”

“Little Patty,” Blair breathed. “How did the nurse die?”

“She was stabbed. If the murderer intended to drag out her death like with McAllister, he, or rather she messed up and severed a major artery. It looks like the victim put up a fight. Dan thinks she bled out right away.”

“Do you need me to come out there?” Blair asked quietly.

“You know, I think I’d feel better if you skip this one. That okay with you?”

Blair chuckled. “Don’t go getting all protective on me, big guy.”

Jim sighed.

“It’s fine,” Blair assured. “As a matter of fact, I actually have a couple of projects I could work on.”

“Good. I’ll call if we get anything.”

“Cool. Later, man.”

“Later.”

Blair turned off the phone and rubbed his aching head. He had been hoping it was just his imagination, but now his skin felt hot to the touch and his whole body hurt. “Great. All I need is the flu,” he grumbled. After pouring himself a glass of juice he took a couple of Tylenol and his antibiotic and went to lie down. His projects would have to wait until he felt better.

Jim examined the body after forensics finished and a multitude of pictures were taken. The woman had been pretty he supposed, but it was hard to tell with the pallor of death combined with the several hours she had been submerged in the sea water. Her car was parked as close to the abandoned dock as possible, but that still left several hundred feet that she would have to have been carried or dragged to get to the water. Finding a small footprint in the sand just off of the concrete drive, Jim followed with his eyes back to the car.

“Over here,” he shouted to the forensics team.

The team marked the path as Jim pointed out each step through the empty lot. Halfway to the car they found an area where apparently the nurse had been dropped and a struggle had ensued. In the grass Jim found several short red hairs complete with bloody roots where the victim apparently made a last ditch effort to survive.

As the evidence was collected Jim scanned the nearby area with his senses. Across the street something moved in the shadow of the empty warehouse. He listened carefully and raised his head to sniff the air. Something rustled in the scrub brush and he smelled old blood, and lots of it.

It rested under a dilapidated shed across from the docks; clothes saturated in the sticky residue of its gluttony, too full to move very far after the feast. Not its favorite way to dine, preferring a slower, casual pace over several days. This feeding had been frenzied and fast as the victim had not succumbed quickly and had to be dealt a fatal blow. Such a shame to waste a good kill. The man had been much easier since he hadn’t objected to being tied up with the promises it had made him. With him, meals had been at leisure with a fresh cut each time it bled him, his pleas and cries the only distraction.

Somewhere in its sated, muddied mind it knew what all the activity across the street was. Sleepy now, but strong from the nourishment, it slipped into the large warehouse to wait out the police. With the memories of the ones who had come before, it knew how to hide, how to lie, and most of all, how to kill. Deep, deep inside it still remembered Patty, but had no desire to reach her.

Jim pulled his gun as he crossed the street, waving at a uniform so that someone would know where he was. He followed his nose, switching to hearing once he caught the tell tale heart beat moving into the large building.

“This is Ellison, I’ve got something,” he murmured into his mic. “Surround the warehouse on the north side of the street.”

“We’re on our way, Jim,” Brown acknowledged.

Climbing through a broken window, Jim followed his prey up the stairs. Taking only a second to adjust his sight to the dimmer interior, Jim located a blood covered Patty Simmons lurking in the shadows. He approached her silently. When he had her cornered, he leveled his weapon.

“Freeze,” he said loudly. He registered the inhuman scream, but only caught a blur of movement as she plowed into him, sending them both crashing through the painted over window at the top of the stairs. They twisted in fierce combat as they fell a full story to the ground, landing sprawled together in a heap with Jim on top of the much smaller woman.

Patty’s head slumped back and she gurgled as blood trickled from her mouth. Stunned from the fall, Jim watched helplessly as the flow from her mouth streamed into the deep gash on his arm. He felt a spasm of pure pain, but was unable to move.

“Jim!” Brown screamed as he grasped him tightly on the shoulder, not daring to roll him over. “Are you okay? Don’t move.”

Jim shuddered uncontrollably as he tried to rise, feeling hot and cold at the same time. Unable to speak, he dropped his head back to the ground.

“Officer down! We need an ambulance,” Brown shouted and looked to the cop who was checking Patty’s pulse. The other man shook his head. “Looks like you got her, Jim. Everything’s going to be okay,” he soothed, trying hard to sound casual as he worriedly checked the big detective for obvious injuries.

Blair clawed at his neck in his sleep, disrupting the scab and causing a trickle of red to run down to his pillow. He moaned and thrashed his head from side to side. Faces. Eyes. Crimson stains. His dreams were filled with death.

“How are you feeling?” Simon asked as he stuck his head into the back of the ambulance. “The paramedic said you didn’t even get a scratch.”

“Yeah,” Jim agreed, still a little dazed. “Just got the wind knocked out of me I guess. I could have sworn I cut my arm though. I’m covered in blood.”

“No kidding,” Simon said with disgust. “Why don’t you take that off and I’ll call Sandburg to bring you something to wear? He can meet us at the hospital.”

“Nah, I don’t need to go to the hospital. Not a scratch, remember? I’m just gonna head home.”

“Jim…”

“Sir, really, I’m fine. I’ll take some aspirin and go to bed.”

Simon looked at him doubtfully. “All right. But I want someone to drive you, and that’s not negotiable.” He waited until Jim gave in and nodded his head. “Do you want me to call Sandburg?”

“Sandburg,” Jim whispered as if trying to place the name.

“Yeah, you know, the short, hairy guy you live with,” Simon supplied with a worried expression on his face. “Blair? Chief? Darwin ? Any of this ringing a bell?”

“Of course I know who Sandburg is,” Jim said irritably. “I just… never mind. Don’t call. I’ll tell him about it when I get home.”

“Have it your way, Jim. Can you think of anything else before we finish up here?”

“Be sure and remind the lab to test her blood, okay?”

“We know the drill, detective. Relax,” a man from the coroner’s office said as he stepped up next to Simon in the door.

“That woman bit my partner yesterday; hard enough to draw blood,” Jim explained defensively, pointing at the draped body being loaded into the meat wagon several yards away.

“Oh. Okay, that’s different. Don’t worry I’ll take care of it myself. You do know antibody tests will take a little longer than the drug screens, right?”

“I realize that. Just notify us as soon as you know anything.”

“Will do,” the man said and headed back the way he came.

Jim pulled off his soiled shirt and climbed out of the ambulance. Rafe caught his eye and immediately came over. “Looks like the fall broke her neck,” he said without preamble, answering Jim’s unasked question. “That’s what Dan thinks right now.”

“Rafe, I’m going to give Jim a ride home. I want you to follow with his truck,” Simon ordered.

“Yes sir,” Rafe said with a nod and held out his hand for the keys.

Jim tossed his shirt into a handy trashcan and dug in his pants pocket for keys. “Drive careful,” he advised with a warning tone. As he handed them over he realized that Rafe had a bandage on his hand and he distinctly smelled blood.

Rafe rolled his eyes but grinned as he took the keys and walked towards Ellison’s baby.

“Let’s go,” Simon said with a smirk as he headed toward his own car, not noticing that Jim was still just standing there, staring after Rafe. “And don’t get any of that mess on my seats. On second thought, why don’t you ride with Rafe in your own truck?” he teased.

“Good idea,” Jim said and sprinted after Rafe without looking back.

“Jim! I was just kidding,” Simon protested.

Jim threw up a hand in acknowledgement, but climbed into the passenger side of his own truck anyway. “See you at the loft,” he called out.

“What?” Rafe asked as he started the engine. “You don’t trust me to drive your truck?”

“What happened to your hand?” Jim asked, ignoring the question.

“It’s not bad. I cut it on a piece of glass at the warehouse,” Rafe explained. He turned and put his injured hand on the back of the seat as he carefully maneuvered in reverse through the haphazardly parked police and emergency vehicles.

Jim found his gaze drawn to the bandage. The smell of fresh blood seemed to fill the truck and he could almost taste the coppery smell. He licked his lower lip in anticipation. In his mind he could see Rafe on the ground; his eyes dull, his life bleeding away… abruptly Jim tore his eyes away and rolled down his window, gulping in the fresh air.

“You okay?” Rafe asked with concern. “Should I pull over?”

“No, no. I… I just got hot. I’m okay,” Jim assured without looking, shaken by his vision. He could feel his hands begin to shake as he broke out in a cold sweat. Rubbing his damp palms on his jeans he forced his dials for smell and taste to zero. Thankfully the heady smell of blood vanished, but he had to wonder if he was losing his mind. He looked down at his hands and realized that they were now covered in the gooey half dried blood from his jeans. He fought the urge to bring his hands to his mouth. Instead he wiped them on the seat, ignoring Rafe’s astounded stare.

At long last Jim slipped his key into the lock and let himself in. Home sweet home. Simon had wanted to see him to the door, but Jim didn’t think he could stand another minute in Rafe’s company. Something deep and demanding in his subconscious kept dialing up his nose to sniff the unseen wound on the other man’s hand. It got to the point that he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from ripping the bandage away. When the ride was over he had insisted he was fine and left his two worried friends on the street. He needed to be alone to clear his head. He didn’t feel safe to be around anyone. In his dazed panic, he forgot all about Sandburg as he forced his legs to climb the stairs.

Not surprisingly, his body ached. It had been a hell of a thud when they hit the ground. Patty’s tiny frame hadn’t exactly cushioned the blow. Somewhere in his mind he thought he should feel bad about that, but all he felt was strange. He was disconnected in a way that he couldn’t comprehend. And thirsty. Really, really thirsty.

Stumbling through the door, he headed straight to the fridge, not even bothering to turn on a light. He pulled out a bottle of water, but something else caught his eye. Steaks. Two nice juicy ones, thawed and ready for the grill. Jim dropped the water bottle and fell to his knees. Tearing open the wrapper he held it up to his mouth, letting some of the red water run down his chin as he greedily drank it. The liquid was cold, thin, and utterly unsatisfying.

When he realized what he had done, he jumped to his feet, throwing the meat on the floor. He slammed the refrigerator door and backed away in horror. He managed to make it to the bathroom before he puked, but just barely. For long minutes after, he dry heaved until he collapsed onto the floor by the toilet. As his head began to spin, his senses spiraled out of control. Time passed unnoticed as he struggled with his dials. Something caught his attention as he desperately cast out with his hearing. A slow steady rhythm reached out to him, bringing him back from the edge of madness, calming his frazzled senses. He lost himself to the sound and slept.

For several hours Blair tossed and turned; restless, but completely out. Dreams of murder and bloodshed troubled his mind until the carnage finally jolted him from the unnaturally deep slumber. He sat up with a startled, wordless exclamation taking more than a minute to recover his bearings and calm his breathing. The room was dark and his pillow and most of his covers were on the floor. The sheet beneath him was soaked in sweat, but his body was already starting to dry and goose bumps began to surface. He ran a hand through his damp hair and took a mental inventory of how he felt. No pain, no fever, headache gone. Whatever had plagued him had worked its way out of his system while he slept leaving him chilled and thirsty, but otherwise feeling fine.

With a yawn and a stretch he climbed out of the bed and made a pass at straightening the covers. He squinted at the clock and decided that Jim must have thought that he needed the rest more than dinner. Either that or Jim had gotten tied up at the station and hadn’t made it home yet. It was getting late. Blair’s mid-afternoon nap had stretched out for hours longer than he’d intended. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms as he searched in the dark for the sweatshirt he had taken off earlier. When he found it he slipped it over his head.

His throat was unbearably dry so he made his way into the kitchen for a drink. He tried to clear his mind of his gruesome and very vivid dreams as he shuffled along in the dark. Stopping suddenly when his foot struck something cool and slimy on the floor, he scrambled for the light.

“What the hell?” he mumbled as he examined the expensive cuts of meat lying on the floor in front of the fridge. “Jim?” he asked quietly as he moved into the livingroom to look up towards the loft bedroom.

“Blair,” came the hoarse reply from the hall instead.

“Shit, you scared me.” Blair studied his roommate in the dim light. “Are you okay? You’ve got a little prison pallor thing goin’ on there.”

“Sick,” Jim mumbled as he staggered forward.

Blair rushed over and caught him before he fell. “Lean on me,” he instructed urgently. For once Jim complied without comment and allowed Blair to maneuver him around the corner and into his bedroom. “Lie down.”

Jim tumbled into the bed before Blair could pull the covers back all the way. “You’re a mess. What happened?” Blair asked as he removed Jim’s shoes and helped him struggle out of his bloodied jeans.

“Got her… we fell. Blood every…where,” Jim provided brokenly.

“Patty Simmons? I hope this is her blood and not yours. Jesus, you’re burning up.” Blair wadded up the soiled garment and tossed it into the corner for the moment. “Don’t try to get up,” he warned unnecessarily as he went to retrieve a wet wash rag and some Tylenol.

“Losing my mind… wanted to kill Rafe… wanted his blood,” Jim rambled incoherently.

“What?” Blair asked as he bounded back into the room.

“Stop me,” Jim pleaded.

Blair quickly wiped the dried vomit from the side of Jim’s face with the rag before cleaning his hands of the crusty blood hiding between his fingers. “Once isn’t gonna do it, Jim. Let me rinse this.”

“No!” Jim cried.

“I’ll be right back, man. I promise,” Blair swore softly, pressing a hand to Jim’s forehead.

“Blair… run. Don’t want to… hurt…”

“I will. I know you’re hurt. I’ll be right back,” Blair said and trotted to the bathroom to rinse out the rag and get water to wash down the medicine.

“No,” Jim whispered. “Get out. I don’t want to hurt you,” he managed clearly between clenched teeth, using the last of his strength.

“How are your senses?” Blair asked when he dropped back down beside the bed and took in Jim’s pained expression. “Bad, I’m guessing. Listen to me, Jim, dial ‘em back. All of them. Just listen to my voice. There’s nothing but my voice, man. Everything’s gonna be fine…”

It struggled, writhing in agony; unable to control the sensory bombardment. This one had seemed strong and healthy. Initially, it thought that this body would serve well, not that there had been a choice with this one anymore than the last. Quickly it discovered that not only was this one stubborn, but he was afflicted with sensory problems. On one hand he could see and hear and smell more than any host it had ever taken before, but it was unable to control the intensity and had to wait passively for him to reign in the overwhelming sensations, which greatly delayed the process of assimilation.

This was too hard to take. Too much trouble. Too much pain. Just when it decided to take its chances and get out, it heard the sound. Soft. Comforting. Words spoken with such subtle intensity, such compassion. The body reacted to the warmth of the voice. The senses evened out and it jumped at the opportunity to take control while the body still recovered. The stubborn man fought every step of the way, but in the end, he couldn’t escape his fate. It rested; in the morning it would have to feed.

With a sigh of relief Blair watched as his partner’s face slipped into a much more peaceful expression of sleep. The lines of tension smoothed out giving the large man a relatively youthful appearance. He continued his soothing litany only a moment more before rushing to the phone and thanking God once again for speed dial.

“Simon, it’s Blair. What the hell happened?” he asked not even giving the captain a chance to grumble a greeting or possibly reflect on his parentage.

“Is he okay?” Banks managed, sounding drowsy. Instinctively he knew what the call was about. Lots of people accused Ellison of being protective, but Simon had seen more than his share of Sandburg in blessed protector mode.

“No, Simon! He was in a bad way. Sick and messed up and out of his mind. I’m pretty sure his senses were off the wall. What happened today?”

“You mean yesterday. It’s after midnight,” Simon pointed out wearily.

“Whatever,” Sandburg replied in an impatient tone that Simon had never heard before. At least not directed at him.

“Calm down, kid. Let me wake up a little. Is he okay right now?”

“He’s asleep.”

Simon sighed, giving up hope of going back to sleep any time soon himself. “Good. You scared me for a minute. Um, the perp was Patty Simmons. Jim cornered her in an abandoned building and she pushed him out a window.”

“What!”

“Let me finish! Jim was fine. Not a scratch. He didn’t complain about his senses at all. He was just stunned, I swear. If I thought he was hurt I would have made him go to the hospital. I was going to call you, but he wouldn’t let me,” Simon all but whined, then caught himself. “What am I doing? I don’t have to explain my actions to you.”

“Simon, if you’re gonna use my Sentinel I want him back in the same shape I sent him out in,” Blair couldn’t help but tease after he worked the captain into such a state.

“Hold on, Sandburg. Back up. Your Sentinel? MY detective you mean.”

“Don’t get territorial on me.”

“Is there some specific reason you woke me up at… one fifteen in the morning?” Banks growled.

“So you got Simmons?” Blair evaded.

“She didn’t make it. The fall broke her neck.”

“Are you sure she was the one?”

Simon cleared his throat. “Her stomach was full of Laura Amerson’s blood.”

“Oh.”

“Go to bed, Sandburg. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Simon,” Blair said gratefully. “Good night.”

“Take care of my detective.”

“I will.”

“I know.”

Hunger pangs slowly teased blue eyes open. It stretched the body languorously and reveled in the power and strength. Although it could always make do with whatever size host it found, it preferred the large masculine ones. They made trapping prey so much easier, although there was something to be said for feminine wiles as well.

Turning the head into the pillow it smelled strangely familiar blood. It had scented this blood before. Sandburg. Once again the name niggled at its memory. Finding several small red stains on the pillow case, it tasted just to be sure. Oh, yes. The one that got away.

A mass of brown curls spilled over the arm of the couch in the large living area. It allowed the face a feral smile and recalled the sample it had already indulged in. The stomach growled in anticipation as it meticulously searched the surroundings. If it planned carefully, it could enjoy every last drop of the warm, succulent feast that was Sandburg.

Blair felt the cushion dip down as a weight settled next to him, effectively trapping him on the couch. “Jim?” he asked sleepily and cracked open an eye. “What’s wrong?”

“Shh,” the bigger man soothed as he brushed Blair’s hair tenderly away from his neck. He peeled back the sweatshirt to examine the broken skin where the observer had been bitten, running a finger along the discolored area. “I’m sorry.”

“Um, not your fault, man,” Blair said, wide eyed now and a little confused by his partner’s relatively intimate actions. A sudden irrational fear surfaced and Blair felt crowded. He tried to sit up, but Jim easily kept him down with a gentle hand on his chest. Blair cleared his throat and studied Jim’s passive face, but he didn’t try to bolt. “How are you this morning? Everything workin’ okay?” he asked with a combination of worry and bewilderment.

“Yes. Thanks to you. You helped me more than you know,” Jim said in a soft, comforting voice.

“I, um, realize that we’re having a moment here, but I gotta pee,” Blair replied firmly, prying Jim’s restraining hand away.

“Sure.” Jim gave in easily and rose to his feet.

“Yeah, thanks,” Blair muttered in relief and backed a few steps away once he found his footing. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong, Blair decided, but couldn’t quite place the source of his unease.

Jim stood and watched with one hand behind his back. The silent stand off should have come to an end when the phone rang, but neither man moved.

“Ellison? Where are you? You’re late,” Simon’s voice sounded from the answering machine. “Is everything okay? Sandburg?”

Blair broke eye contact and darted for the phone. “Simon, I’m here,” he said, quickly returning his gaze to Jim.

“What the hell’s going on? Is Jim okay?”

“Yeah, he’s… fine. Um, just a little out of it this morning,” Blair assured, unable to voice his concerns with Jim’s eyes boring into him.

“Is he coming to work today or does he need some time? I knew I should have made him go to the hospital last night,” Simon grumbled.

“Tell him I’ll be a little late,” Jim said, obviously listening to the conversation. “I’m just going to get something to eat first.”

“He says he’ll be late,” Blair passed on to Simon.

“He’s already late,” Banks replied gruffly. “Oh, hey, I’ve got some news for you. I’ve got the first results of Patty Simmons’ blood work. Sorry kid, apparently they found some sort of blood borne parasite when they looked at it under the microscope.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Blair asked with concern, forgetting for a minute his current discomfort with his roommate.

“Dan said he’d never seen anything like it before. It might be some type of mutated virus. They’re looking into it. In the meantime, I’ve got Brown checking out Simmons.”

“What am I suppose to do?” Blair asked, once again meeting Jim’s emotionless eyes.

“Blair, listen to me. Don’t panic. Dan says to keep taking your medicine. You’ll need to have more blood drawn to check for antibodies.”

“What good will that do if we don’t even know what it is?”

“Look, he said that it may not even be transferred through saliva. Even if it was, you could develop a natural immunity to it with your own body. It may not cause any problems at all.”

“Yeah, or I could develop blood lust,” Blair pointed out.

“That’s ridiculous,” Simon scoffed. “I wish you’d get this vampire idea out of your head. I’ll check on you later. Tell Jim to get his ass in gear.”

“Okay. Wish I could say thanks and mean it,” Blair sighed. “Bye.”

“Sandburg, you’re going to be fine,” Simon said before he hung up.

“You heard?” Blair asked as he placed the phone back in its cradle.

Jim shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I thought you had to pee?”

A little stung by Jim’s attitude, Blair shook his head and went into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Henri Brown tapped on the captain’s door and waited patiently for Simon to hang up the phone and motion him in.

“I just talked to Sandburg. Understandably, the kid’s a little freaked,” Banks said, wearily rubbing his eyes. “I wish I could do more to reassure him.”

“Don’t worry, Ellison’ll look after him,” Brown replied confidently.

“Did you find something?” Simon asked as he took the folder Henri held out to him.

“A couple of somethings, actually. I’m just not sure how they fit together.” Brown took a seat and began to explain. “Patty Simmons just blew into town a little over a week ago. The day she started her new job was the same day that her boss disappeared.”

“We already knew all that,” Simon prodded. “We’ve got her cold on both murders plus her attacks on Ellison and Sandburg.”

“Right. I traced her back to a small town in North Carolina where she worked as a lab tech for the last three years. Her record was clean. Not so much as a traffic ticket. Before we caught her, my erstwhile partner had done a search on the FBI’s serial killer database. He found the exact same MO with nine victims over a four week period in the town where she lived.”

“Why didn’t Rafe mention this earlier?”

“Because they had already caught their perp. Shot him dead just last week.”

“But you think it was Simmons?”

“Couldn’t have been,” Brown argued. “She was in town here, applying for a job at Cascade General and making arrangements for her move during the time of the first two murders there.”

“So other than living in the same area as the other killer, what’s the connection?”

“I couldn’t find one.”

Blair took care of business and then washed his hands, staring intently into the mirror. He didn’t look sick, and he felt fine now. Just as he pulled at the neck of the sweatshirt Jim opened the bathroom door and came in to stand behind him.

“I’m sorry, did you knock?” Blair asked, irritation that Jim had disregarded his privacy overcoming his worry for the moment. He caught a flash of light on metal too late to avoid Jim’s lunge and crashed to the floor as his feet were swept out from under him. A startled grunt escaped him as Jim dropped down on him and caught his arm in a crushing grip. Blair’s struggle was lost in his disbelief and he quickly found one hand cuffed to the pipe under the sink.

“What the hell are you doing, man!” Blair managed to scream with the little air left in his lungs. Jim moved away and Blair kicked himself back into the space between the toilet and the sink as far away from Jim as he could get while tethered to the pipe. He stared in horror, panting for breath as Jim reached into the linen closet and pulled out a hunting knife.

“Jim. Please, don’t do this. You’re not yourself, man. Let me help you,” Blair tried to sound reasonable, though his voice trembled. “You don’t want to hurt me.”

“I need nourishment,” Jim said simply. “If you sit still and don’t waste anything, you’ll live longer.”

“God, this isn’t happening,” Blair exclaimed. “Okay, man. Joke’s over. Let me go.”

“It’s no joke, Chief,” Jim said with an empty smile. “That is what this one calls you, correct?”

“This one?” Blair asked, the reality of his situation not yet sinking in.

Jim grabbed him by an ankle and dragged him out from under the sink, straddling his body. He grasped Blair’s free arm in one hand and held the knife in the other.

Blair fought his panic and became very still. He eased his hand away, surprised that Jim allowed it. Holding his breath, he reached his hand for Jim’s face, maintaining eye contact the whole time. Jim’s skin was hot and flushed and his eyes were void of any emotion. Slowly Blair became aware of the same evil that he’d felt when Patty had cornered him in the lab. He jerked his hand away in abject terror.

“What the hell are you?” he stammered.

“I am a visitor. I require this body for mobility and interaction with your environment. I need sustenance at this time.”

With renewed panic Blair squirmed and bucked until a large hand tightly cuffed around his windpipe forced him into submission. “This one wants you to cooperate so you do not endure more pain than is necessary.”

Staring with horror into the inhuman eyes, Blair found no trace of his friend. “You’re lying,” he spat out, barely able to get air past his constricted vocal cords. “I know Jim. He wants me to kick your ass!”

The monster stopped and gaped for a minute, releasing Sandburg’s throat. “You accept what I am?”

“I know that you’re not Jim Ellison,” Blair breathed harshly, thankful for the increase in oxygen. “But that doesn’t really help me, does it?”

“Just let me take what I need now. Maybe I’ll spare you.”

“Liar,” Blair hissed. “I’d rather go out fighting than just give you my blood if I’m going to die anyway.”

“If you do not survive, who will help your friend?” the monster baited in Jim’s voice.

Jim railed against the creature that possessed all but his psyche. He had been unaware of the gradual process of assimilation until it was too late, thinking all along that he was losing his mind. In fact, his brain was the last thing to go and he wondered how long he’d be able to hold even that. Although he was trapped and impotent to help, he had a front row seat to the attack on his partner.

Inwardly he screamed and taunted the entity, trying for some type of confrontation. For the most part, it ignored him, paying only enough attention to raid his memory for ammunition with which to pacify Blair long enough to bleed him dry. While it knew him, Jim realized that he also knew of it; privy to its thoughts and lack of feelings. He’d never experienced anything like the cold, emotionless emptiness that surrounded him.

“Fight, Chief,” Jim begged within the prison of his mind. “Don’t let it use me against you!”

He tried to force his senses, hoping for a zone-out or a sensory spike, but the being had paid close attention to Sandburg’s ministration the night before and had better control of them than he ever had. It had a lot of experience controlling things. It adapted well.

The first cut was to the sweatshirt. Blair gritted his teeth, but couldn’t tear his eyes away as Jim’s hands worked smoothly to split the sleeve all the way up. He had been allowed to sit up after promising not to fight, but he remained anchored to the sink.

“This is going to hurt. Don’t move.”

“Just get it over with,” Blair complained, finding the anticipation of the cut painful in its own way. He wrapped his cuffed hand tightly around the pipe in an effort to stave off the trembling of his body and prepare himself not to jump. The blade was very sharp and at first all he felt was pressure as the tip was lowered to the inside of his wrist. Then as the skin parted and welled with crimson, it began to sting. He let out a low hiss and felt vaguely nauseous as the newly created trench began to overflow.

Feeling somehow removed and far-away, he watched in a sickened daze as Jim’s head bowed almost reverently to the laceration. He held onto a single chord of disbelief right up until Jim’s mouth molded to his flesh and began to gently suckle the wound. Mortified, he turned his head away with tightly clenched eyes and willed himself somewhere else; willed Jim somewhere else, too.

He briefly wondered if Jim was still in there somewhere. The thought that he was not wracked Blair’s body with an involuntary shudder. The grasp on his wrist tightened in protest of the movement, but Blair refused to look. In his mind he tried to re-write the syllabus for the new semester that would begin in another week. When that failed to keep reality at bay he tried to think about Jim’s last big case. Unfortunately, that brought him back to McAllister. And Patty.

After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality couldn’t have been more than seven or eight minutes, the hungry mouth slowed and was soon replaced by an intense pressure on top of the wound. Blair forced himself to look and wished immediately that he hadn’t. Jim’s face stared back at him with a smear of blood on his chin and a sated expression. His eyes were black as night, the pupils fully dilated.

Blair sat in stunned silence as the creature carefully cleaned and bandaged the deep cut using Jim’s handy first aid kit. Finally the ordeal was over and it moved to rise, pausing for a minute to touch Blair’s face in apparent fascination. Blair flinched and was surprised to see that the fingers were wet as it pulled Jim’s hand away. First it sniffed and then tasted the moisture before moving away, turning off the light and closing the door.

Feeling violated and strangely ashamed, Blair hugged his injured arm to his chest. “Tears for dessert,” he mumbled into the dark.

Counter point to the cool indifference that had taken up residence first in his blood, then cell by cell, the rest of his body, Jim was livid. Rage, despair, shock, grief, and absolute horror battled for center stage. All of which the entity ignored; apparently not having a frame of reference for the intensity of the emotions.

“So sorry, Chief. I’m so damned sorry,” Jim repeated over and over in his head as his body walked away and turned out the light on his friend. As the monster closed the door, Jim hung onto the picture in his mind of Blair huddled under the sink. He took comfort in the knowledge that Blair had already uncovered the truth. Once again, he was thankful for his partner’s keen intellect and open mind. Mentally at least, Blair knew that he wasn’t really the one who had hurt him.

Jim’s fear that the invader would take over his brain as well as his body slowly began to dissipate. He came to realize as it probed his mind time and again for information that it needed him. Without his brain intact, it couldn’t maintain the charade of normalcy. In order for it to be Jim Ellison, it needed access to the real McCoy. When it opened the door between them there were snatches of opportunity to do a little investigating of his own. The next time it pushed in to read his knowledge, Jim vowed to push back.

It settled them on the couch and systematically began to categorize and sort Jim’s life, taking what it thought pertinent, discarding the rest. Although having his mind rifled through like a filing cabinet was disconcerting to say the least, it gave Jim the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Taking a chapter from the creature’s own book, he ignored its assault on his memories and opened himself to its consciousness.

Immediately, he found Patty. Or what was left of her. The residual imprint of her life remained as a part of the creature. Jim was stung by the fear and bewilderment of the acts she had committed while under its control. He realized that she had been every bit as much a victim as McAllister or Sandburg, or himself for that matter. Behind Patty was Robert, although much fainter, but his enduring love for his wife and children remained. Then there was Paulo, then Eric, then Marie.

Jim found host after host, each progressively less clear than the one preceding it as he worked his way backwards through the being’s psyche. They were computer programmers and TV repair men and bus drivers; an array of professions and lifestyles. It lived and worked as its hosts until it used each of them up in turn and moved on. Surprisingly, for its long history, it had only recently developed a taste for human blood. Before it had been content to dine on small animals, but it had become bored. People provided a much more interesting hunt. It had become arrogant and careless, leading to the death of Robert and subsequent flight into Patty.

Finally, Jim understood. For all of its human contact, it remained utterly removed from mankind. It neither had, nor understood the passions of its host species; it loathed them for what it considered their weakness. For the most part, it ignored Jim’s emotions because it couldn’t relate to them. But it could read his thoughts while it was rummaging through his brain. Jim buried his discoveries in hate and aversion. He would have to plan later when it was safe to think.

Within a few short minutes of its forcible entry into his brain, it had what it felt it needed to function as a police detective. Armed with this information, it set off to get ready for work.

Blair jumped and held his breath when the door opened. Surely it wasn’t time to feed again already. He reflexively scooted himself as far back as he could and coiled up tightly. Much to his relief, it just opened the medicine cabinet and prepared to shave Jim’s face. Blair slowly released the air from his lungs and tried to calm his shattered nerves. Keeping his head down, he listened as it went flawlessly through Jim’s morning rituals, including a shower.

“Where are you going?” Blair couldn’t help but ask as it dried off.

It wrapped a towel around Jim’s waist and walked out, not sparing even a glance in Blair’s direction. This time it left the door open and the light on. It returned in a few minutes with a box and proceeded to remove everything from the bathroom that could in any way be used as a weapon.

Blair chastised himself for not taking the opportunity to grab a razor earlier. The truth was, he was simply too traumatized and hadn’t been thinking. That mistake, he realized, could conceivably cost him, and Jim, their lives.

It handed him the cup from the sink. “Drink plenty of water today. You need to compensate for the blood loss.”

“Right,” Blair muttered. “Wouldn’t want to die too soon and deprive you of a meal.”

“Yes,” it answered as it left, once again turning off the light and shutting the door.

After a minute, Blair heard the television come on in the living room. The volume was a little loud, but nothing to call the police about. It would effectively keep any stray neighbor or deliveryman from hearing cries for help. Blair rested his head on his knees and tried to think. He knew the blood loss had not been that great. In fact, he felt no ill effects at all, other than the repulsion of having watched his best friend enjoy the meal of which he was the main and only course. Absently, he wondered just how long he could hold out before he succumbed to the gradual blood letting.

It briefly scanned the room, getting its bearings and cross referencing faces and names that it had pulled from Ellison’s memories. Some of the humans it recognized, others it didn’t, but that was okay. The bullpen, as Ellison thought of it, was a busy place. There were bound to be people in and out that Ellison had never met.

Usually, it tried to select hosts with background-type jobs or ones who held themselves apart from society. This made it much easier to move within the human social structure unnoticed. Depression and isolation were most useful in a host and it came close to actually understanding these feelings. Unfortunately, the last two hosts had been taken in haste and not with the usual care. Patty had fit the emotional profile, but not the physical one. It had simply made do with her until it could find something better, taking no special care with the body.

Ellison, although also taken on the fly, was the opposite of Patty. He was strong willed and held a high profile, people oriented job. Physically however, he was strong, agile, and in perfect health. Then there were the extra sensory benefits, now that it knew how to use them, a very welcome bonus. Although already blessed with a strong sense of smell, it found the other enhancements to be useful tools as well. They would make the extra effort worth the trouble.

It was nice to have a warm meal waiting at home. This gave it the freedom to experience the job without worrying about feeding. Sandburg had indeed proved to be a tasty choice, but hardly a challenge. That one had given up almost without a fight due to a few incomprehensible emotions. It couldn’t wait to try a real hunt with Ellison’s abilities up and running.

Sitting down at the desk it knew to be Ellison’s, it distractedly perused a stack of papers in an attempt to appear to be busy. It decided to keep a low profile for a few hours, check things out, and then head back to the loft to indulge in another snack. The larger body would have to be feed more frequently, and possibly be supplemented with human food to maintain its bulk.

“Ellison,” a large black man called from across the room.

Captain; Banks, Simon; boss, friend… the variety of roles in Ellison’s life would make this one especially hard to deal with. He would avoid him in the future.

“Sir?”

“So nice of you to finally join us. Why don’t you step into my office?”

It recognized the sarcasm and lowered the papers. Boss, i.e. supervisor. It did a hasty review of interactions with Captain; Banks, Simon, to come up with an appropriate response. The memories of this one mixed heavily with Sandburg, whom he had already disregarded, thinking of him as inconsequential since he wouldn’t be coming back.

“That wasn’t a request,” the large man boomed before retreating back through the door.

Boss. “Sorry I’m late,” it offered hesitantly as it entered the office.

“Everything all right? I know Sandburg was fit to be tied last night,” Banks replied as he hefted a pot of coffee in a wordless question.

“Everything is fine,” it answered, missing the offer of coffee completely.

Banks replaced the pot and sat down with a worried frown taking shape on his face.

“Where’s the kid? I thought classes didn’t start back until next week? I’m surprised he let you out of his sight today.”

It quickly cross referenced Ellison with children but found nothing pertinent. “I’m sorry?” it asked, at a complete loss.

Banks openly stared now and it knew it had made a grave error of some kind. “Sandburg,” Banks clarified carefully. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is something going on with you and Blair?”

Friend. It smiled unconvincingly. “He’s sick, that’s all.”

“He sounded fine on the phone this morning,” Banks argued suspiciously.

“He has a fever. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t drag him down to the ER. Hell, after what happened, maybe you should get him to a doctor.”

“He’s fine,” it insisted, realizing that the situation might get out of hand. It calculated the odds of disposing of Banks, knowing that the big man would be a worthy adversary. The smell of nicotine made his blood unappetizing, but maybe he would hunt him for sport.

A knock on the door broke through the sudden tension and Detective; Brown, Henri poked his head in. “I’ve got something you should see.”

It saw its chance and headed quickly for the door. “Excuse me,” it said.

“Jim, this has to do with the Simmons case,” Brown supplied and held up a file.

“That case is closed,” it replied curtly and made its escape, passing straight through the bullpen and disappearing into an elevator.

Blair grunted in frustration and kicked out at the toilet angrily, catching the seat accidentally and sending it to crash against the wall. He had made his wrist bleed again while struggling to unscrew the pipe that he was cuffed to with his bare hands. Fat chance. With Ellison in plumber mode less than a month ago, the pipes were way beyond mere mortal strength. Blair was sure the whole building would come down before the pipe did.

He sagged against the wall in defeat amidst the ruin that had been the bathroom. Jim was going to kill him, he thought absently as he looked around before he realized the truth in the statement. Jim was going to kill him. Or rather the monster, creature, spaceman… whatever it was that possessed Jim’s body. And as he’d been informed only hours ago, if he died there would be no one to save Jim from what was sure to be a hellish existence, if in fact Jim still existed at all.

Repositioning himself, he brought his injured arm up to his chained one and tried to apply pressure to the wound. As he squeezed the saturated dressing he grimaced at the amount of fluid that ran back down his arm. He sighed resignedly, sure that he’d need every last drop left if he planned on surviving. Taking the monster’s advice, he had tried to keep himself hydrated. Inevitably, that had led to contortions Naomi would be proud of in order to relieve his bladder.

The thing had been thorough in cleaning out the bathroom. There was nothing within reach that Blair could use as a weapon or even pick the cuffs with. And he had looked with a vengeance, going so far as tearing up the floor in the corner and kicking down the lowest shelf in the linen closet. He kept the plastic cup intact for now. He still needed it for water from the sink and he could always try to break it later if he had to. But he knew deep down that the soft plastic was too malleable to actually cut anything.

All in all, it had been a sucky day. Physically, he knew he was no match for Jim’s strength, not to mention the fact that he literally had one arm tied, if not exactly behind his back. Words were the only available weapon, but the creature’s utter lack of remorse made reasoning impossible. The only thing he could do now was somehow try to reach Jim. Barring that, he vowed to release him. Even if he had to die to do it.

Henri turned disbelieving eyes to Simon. “I really think that Jim ought to hear this,” he said.

“Something’s not right,” Simon agreed. “Tell me what you’ve got and I’ll talk to him and Sandburg about it later.”

“Okay,” Henri said with a shrug. He waved a file and placed it on the desk in front of Simon. “This is the autopsy on Patty Simmons. Since Hairboy got bitten, they did more than the usual toxicology on the blood. When Dan looked at it under the microscope he found something…”

“Some kind of parasite,” Simon interjected as he opened the folder.

“You already knew about that?”

“Yeah, I uh, had Dan call me as soon as he knew something,” Simon admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t want the kid to have to wait.”

“That’s cool,” Henri said, biting back a grin and bobbing his head in approval. “Anyway, Dan had never seen this kind of parasite before so he contacted the CDC in Atlanta . Turns out that they had seen it. Once.” He produced another file and placed it on top of the first one. “This is a faxed copy of an autopsy that was done in Chapel Hill , North Carolina . It had the same parasite. In fact, it was so prevalent that it was also in muscle tissue and bone as well as in the blood. That’s how they found it.”

“This is the man who went on a killing spree in the town where Patty Simmons lived? And they both were infected with the same parasite,” Simon commented as he read. “Obviously the town hasn’t been over run with vampires, so I’m guessing it isn’t widespread. But they must have had some connection. Maybe they were lovers or something.”

“Or something,” Henri replied cryptically as he dropped the last folder on the stack.

“This is a tox screen on the same man from a different hospital,” Simon said as he read the single page. “No drugs, no alcohol. So?”

“Keep reading.”

Simon was silent for another second then let out a surprised gasp. “The lab tech who ran the test was Patty Simmons.”

“Bingo. That’s our connection. I’m guessing she somehow contaminated herself with the blood sample.”

“What about Sandburg?” asked Simon with dread in his voice. “We know that he had an up close and personal encounter with Simmons.”

“I called the hospital. They won’t release the results of his first test to anybody but him without a warrant. I didn’t push the issue because I knew that he’d tell us himself, but he hasn’t shown up yet to get more blood drawn like he was supposed to.”

Simon picked up the phone. He dialed the loft, but got the answering machine. “Jim said Blair was home sick, but he’s not picking up the phone.”

“Maybe he’s asleep.”

“I hope that’s all it is. Get the warrant and find Jim. If Sandburg is infected, I want to know about it.”

It realized that it had made a grave error in attempting to step into the role of police detective. The boss/friend had not been completely convinced and it was sure that things wouldn’t get any better on that front. Even the job wasn’t cut and dried. There were too many variables; things it couldn’t comprehend, instincts it simply didn’t have. It had access to all the facts, but everything was tainted with emotion and subtle nuances that it did not understand.

Leaning against the elevator wall, it contemplated its failure. All was not lost. It still had a perfect host even if it couldn’t function in Jim Ellison’s environment. The best thing to do now was take the body and relocate. Maybe it would find a cabin in the woods and venture out only for hunting. Ellison had some interesting memories that it was sure it could put to use along with his special talents. It needed to go to the bank, Ellison had a nice little nest egg stored up, and then it had one loose end to tie up back at the loft.

Stiff and sore from his unnatural position on the hard floor, Blair had tried to make himself more comfortable by padding his butt and shoulder with towels from the trashed shelf. Unfortunately the broken wood lay just out of his reach. The muscles in his neck and back cramped and he could no longer feel his hand past the pressure he continued to hold on his intermittently bleeding wrist.

He hadn’t bothered with any water for awhile. Somehow it seemed pointless to keep taking in fluid while it steadily oozed out of his arm. Time had slipped away, he was certain, but he had only a vague notion of how much. Strangely, as he began to get dizzy from the steady blood loss, his fear began to slip away. The knowledge that he would die no matter what happened at this point, barring a sudden, unexpected rescue, came with a sense of peace. He only hoped he’d be able to take Jim with him, and free him from the grip of the monster. Blair had no doubt that Jim would rather die than be forced to take innocent lives to satisfy its bloodlust.

Deep in thought, he didn’t hear the front door open and close or the footsteps in the hallway. When the bathroom door opened, he was caught off guard. He jumped, banging his head on the under side of the sink, but paid no attention to the new pain. His eyes were riveted to the backlit figure in the doorframe and the glint of light that bounced off of the blade in its hand.

Blair began to panic at the sudden appearance and fought to stay calm as Jim’s hand flicked on the light. For a second, Blair could have sworn he saw an emotion cross the granite features. Anger. More than anger. Rage. Rage that its store of food had been smeared across the small room and wasted.

“Lunchtime already?” Blair gasped out, amazed that he had actually found his voice.

“Foolish, foolish human,” it berated him. “What has your action wrought you? Are you any better off now than before?”

“Yeah, right. I should have thought about all those starving vampires in China before wasting good food,” Blair managed to get out, suppressing a hysterical giggle. “Oh, God. Please don’t,” he added quite seriously as a large hand roughly jerked him out from under the sink.

It kicked some of the debris on the floor in Blair’s direction before dropping down next to him. Blair flinched at the angry gesture and wondered if it was channeling Jim. When it grabbed his arm, there was none of the reverence of before. This was going to be a feeding frenzy. It quickly readied the knife and pressed it into the skin halfway between Blair’s wrist and the inside of his elbow.

Blair cried out with disbelief and pain as it slashed him. “You bastard! The other one is still bleeding. Why’d you cut me again?”

With a cold glare, it yanked his arm up towards Jim’s mouth and began to greedily suck the larger, less carefully made laceration. Blair gritted his teeth and turned his head, his gaze falling on the pile of rubble on the floor next to him, closer now thanks to the monster’s hissy fit. Just under the edge of a towel lay a large splinter of wood from the destroyed shelf. With both hands incapacitated, he wondered how he’d get to it, but he knew it was his only chance.

It had never experience such strong emotion before. There had been times when a host had been extremely depressed when it had actually felt the sensation. Although alien and strange, it had at times wondered about the other human emotions. As a race of beings, his host species based their entire social structure on these feelings, one way or another. Now Ellison made his presence known through his blinding rage over Sandburg’s condition. Before, there had been a range of attitudes; fear and anger, but also affection and concern. Mixed together none of these were strong enough to penetrate its boundaries. Remarkably, when it saw what a mess Sandburg had made, what a spectacular waste of the purest blood it had experienced in such a long time, it shared in Ellison’s anger.

It registered noise from the elevator and stopped feeding long enough to sniff the air. The boss/friend was approaching the front door. Sandburg’s arm dropped limply when it let go. It caught him by the chin with a bloody hand to look at his face. Sandburg’s eyes were half-closed and his features wan and apathetic. It stood and pulled its stained shirt off and threw it into the tub before taking a towel and wiping the blood from its host’s face and hands. It dropped the knife well out of reach and made its way to the front door just as Banks, Simon began to knock.

Blair forced his eyes open and moved his hand to grab the hidden piece of wood. To his disappointment, it was dull on both sides and not nearly big around enough to use as a club. Not that he had the strength or space to swing it anyway. Glancing around in desperation he spotted the knife, just out of reach. Carefully, he stretched the stick out. “Come on, come on,” he muttered frantically as the splintered wood barely touched the handle, pushing it farther away. Closing his eyes for a fraction of a second, he willed his shaky hand to steady and tried again.

Boss or friend, it questioned as it approached the door. Boss at work, friend at home, it reasoned. “Simon? What’s wrong?” it asked as it opened the door a crack.

“Where’s Sandburg?” Banks asked urgently.

“He’s asleep. I told you he was sick.”

“Jim, if Sandburg is infected, you aren’t protecting him by keeping him hidden. He needs medical attention.” Simon pushed against the door, trying to gain entrance.

“I’m not trying to protect anybody,” it swore keeping Jim’s body weight against the door. “I just don’t want you to disturb him. You have no rights here.”

“He’s my friend, too, Jim. Let me help.”

“Look, Simon, everything is fine. He’s had a rough day. Let him sleep a little more and then I’ll take him to see a doctor. Okay?” It reached out in a pleading gesture.

The dark skinned man paused and seemed to think for a minute before his eyes lowered to the blood rimmed fingernails. Realization sparked in the brown eyes as it rapidly opened the door and jerked Banks into the loft, hitting him hard in the face. The struggle was brief and the police Captain went down hard. It searched the unconscious man and flipped the cell phone away from him before picking up the gun and pointing it at Simon’s head. Deciding that a gun shot would only draw attention, he left the man there to deal with later. Its meal was leaking out all over the floor and he had to get back to it.

Stepping over the knife in the bathroom doorway, it made its way back to the flaccid figure now bathed in blood on the floor. It lay the gun down and resumed its meal. There was movement and suddenly, it found itself staring down the barrel of the gun in the hand that should have been handcuffed to the sink.

“You won’t kill your friend,” it stated calmly.

“I’m sorry, Jim,” Sandburg whispered and squeezed the trigger, closing his eyes as he did.

Stunned, it fell back against the tub and reached a hand to the gaping hole in its host’s chest. Sandburg stared mutely, unmoving from under the sink. A single tear slid down his blood splattered face. He raised the gun again, but the tremors in his body became too much. He slumped against the wall and the gun clattered to the floor.

Ordinarily, it would have abandoned the body, but since there was only the single wound, and it still wasn’t ready to give up this host, it began the healing process with the torn heart. Frantically, it tried to keep the host alive, aware of what the cost might be.

Against all expectations, Sandburg moved. Slowly he crawled forward until he grasped Jim’s body by the tattered and stained tee shirt and pulled himself closer. “I’m sorry, Jim. I’m so sorry,” he murmured with barely any voice at all.

In the other room, it could hear Banks begin to stir. He’d found the cell phone and was calling for help. “Sandburg’s not infected, Ellison is,” it heard the Captain report anxiously.

With frustrated resolve, it abandoned Ellison and oozed out of the still gaping wound. It didn’t have far to go as Sandburg now had his lacerated arm thrown across his dying partner’s chest. There was the usual shudder, but something was wrong. It had never taken a dying host before, so it ignored the sensation and began to manipulate the body to overcome the blood lost. It also closed the biggest wound, and clotted off the smaller, older cut on the wrist.

The damage had been immense and it had used up much of its reserve energy on the first host. Sandburg wasn’t in great shape either, but it did what it could to sustain him until it could find a healthier host, but it knew it couldn’t tolerate the nicotine of the boss/friend. It lay back on the floor and waited to be ‘rescued’.

Blair woke in the ambulance. “Jim!” he cried out and would have bolted upright except for the straps around his body.

“Easy, Blair,” Simon crooned from near his head. “He’s in the other ambulance.”

Twisting so that he could see, Blair looked over his shoulder to find Simon seated on the bench seat next to him, a stark white bandage with a splash of crimson in the middle taped to his forehead. “Are you alright?” Blair asked.

Simon nodded. “I’m a whole lot better than you are right now.”

“Jim?” Blair whispered, remembering every second after he pulled the trigger in slow motion right up until he collapsed on Jim’s open chest.

“He’s alive. They don’t know how,” Simon said softly and reached out to grasp Blair’s shoulder.

Blair closed his eyes and turned away. “I shot him. I had too,” he said brokenly.

“I know.” The silence swelled between them for several long minutes; the absolute horror striking them both deeply. Blair had shot Jim intending to kill him, and he had used Simon’s gun to do it. The strangeness of the situation was compounded by the truth. If Sandburg hadn’t shot Jim, Jim would have killed both of them. Finally Simon switched from friend to policeman. “Sandburg? How did you get out of the cuffs?” he asked.

“There was a piece of broken shelf, I don’t know if you saw the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I saw it. Remind me never to let you remodel for me.”

Blair managed a tiny smile. “I was trying to get the knife with it, but it just ended up farther away. Then I realized there was a bent nail sticking out of the board. I pulled it out and used it to pick the cuffs.”

“But Jim only left you for a minute,” Simon argued.

“I know. I’ve been practicing for months.”

“Why?” Simon asked in utter amazement and disbelief.

With a shrug Blair turned to look into his face. “Hanging out with Jim, it kinda seemed like a useful tool,” he explained.

“You do have a talent for ending up in harm’s way,” Simon agreed. “How do you feel?”

Thinking about how he felt for the first time since he woke up, he realized that he didn’t feel nearly as bad as he should have. In fact, he didn’t feel dizzy at all. Just sick. Nauseous in a way he hadn’t before. “I think I’m gonna hurl,” he said at last.

The EMT was immediately at his side and released the upper straps, allowing Blair to sit straight up on the stretcher. Just as he began to heave, a basin was thrust under his chin. A dark, almost black substance came out of his mouth and nose, full of clots and smelling of old blood. This set off another wave of nausea and in turn dry heaves. “Jesus!” He heard Simon exclaim and when he looked into the paramedic’s face, he saw concern bordering on fear.

“You’re going to be fine,” the other man assured, sounding less than calm.

After an exhausting few minutes of vomiting more of the bloody substance, Blair felt lightheaded again, but no longer sick. He leaned back and rubbed his face where he felt the hot, wet tracks of tears. As he pulled his hand away, he realized that he was crying blood. The medic wiped at his ears with gauze and there too, blood flowed freely. The dizziness overwhelmed him and as he passed out he realized he hadn’t been alone.

Pain. Grief. Guilt. Such was Jim Ellison’s life as he felt the entity abandon him. He knew its M.O.; knew how it operated. Accepting that he would die was the easy part. The hard part came when he realized the only place the monster could go as it slipped away. He had seen the remorse in Sandburg’s eyes when he had pulled the trigger, he had heard the pleas for forgiveness, and he had silently thanked Blair for freeing him. But he knew that that act would cost his partner dearly, for he had lived through the psychological rape himself. Without the creature inside to sustain him, his body quickly collapsed. And for that, he was also thankful.

“Come on, Jim. It’s time for you to wake up now. You’ve got me worried here.”

Something stirred inside him. That voice.

“I’m serious. You’ve been asleep for two days, man. They’re gonna kick my butt when they find out that I snuck in here again. They’ve got all these dumb rules.”

Sandburg. Or the monster. How could he tell the difference?

“We’re gonna need to rebuild the linen closet. Oh yeah, and probably put down new linoleum, too. How do you feel about tile? At least wake up and yell about the bathroom, Jim. Please wake up.”

It sounded like Sandburg. Full of life, full of emotion. Was it some kind of trick? Slowly he let himself rise up through the darkness. Come on, Chief. Say something only you would say.

“If you won’t wake up for yourself, then wake up for me, big guy. They need your side of the story. I’m way too pretty to go to prison, man.”

Jim couldn’t help it. He chuckled, then coughed, then cried out in agony as the stitches in his chest pulled.

“Jim!”

“Don’t… make me laugh, Chief,” he finally managed. “Hurts like a… mother.”

“God! You scared me, you big jerk,” Blair breathed, his relief obvious. “What’s so damned funny?”

“You’re not… that pretty… Sandburg,” Jim said through clenched teeth as he laughed again.

“Breathe through it, Jim. Find your pain dial and work it down,” Blair coached. “That’s it, you’re fine.”

“Blair?” Jim asked as he finally opened his eyes to find the concerned face of his best friend.

“Right here, buddy.”

“Are you…”

“Don’t worry. I’m me.”

“How? I know it went into you.”

“Yeah, it did,” Blair said cautiously. “It’s gone now. Lucky for us it used up most of its energy trying to save you and then me. I killed it. Or rather my body did. ”

“How?” Jim asked again.

Blair sighed and moved a little closer. “When Patty bit me some of the microscopic parasite was transferred into my system. My body went into overdrive and cooked up a shit load of antibodies. That’s why I got a little sick and had a fever for a while. By the time it tried to invade me, what was left of my blood attacked what was left of… it.”

“It was…”

“Sentient. I know.”

“Would you let me finish a sentence,” Jim grumbled irritably.

“Sorry, man,” Blair said softly. “They don’t believe that it was alive. Not in that sense anyway. They’re saying that delirium was just one of the symptoms, along with bloodlust.”

“We know better,” Jim sighed and felt the bandages on his body and looked around. He cringed when he realized that both of them had blood dripping through their IVs.

“Really, I am sorry. For shooting you. I didn’t have any other choice.”

“I know,” Jim said and reached for Blair’s bandaged arm.

Blair flinched and pulled back, settling nervously just out of Jim’s reach. “They say that the damage to your chest is mostly superficial,” he continued, sounding a little shook up. “It was going to heal you before it decided to jump ship. I guess we were lucky.”

Suddenly a machine started to beep, causing both of them to jump. “Damn. It’s me,” Blair said as he expertly silenced the alarm on his IVAC. “This battery doesn’t stay charged for shit. I’m busted, I gotta go, man.” He reached to pat Jim’s hand, but hesitated and then pulled back again. “I’ll be back later,” he promised before grabbing his IV pole and making a hasty retreat.

“Mr. Sandburg!” a female voice chastised from the other side of the curtain. “I know I told you to stop strolling the halls while you’re being infused.”

“Yes, ma’am. I was just gonna tell somebody that Jim’s awake…”

“Get in this chair. I’m taking you back to your room.”

“Okay, but I just need to tell somebody…”

Jim smiled as he followed the voices down the hall and listened to his guide try to talk his way out of trouble, but it faded quickly. Blair was afraid of him.

“Oh my God,” Megan said as she nearly dropped the bucket of soapy water. “I had no idea.”

“What?” Rafe asked, pulling on a pair of dishwashing gloves and joining her in the doorway of Ellison’s bathroom. “Oh,” he murmured and headed back towards the kitchen, but was stopped in the hallway by his partner.

“Gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘blood brothers’, doesn’t it?” Henri tried to tease as he took Rafe’s gloves and Megan’s bucket and continued on into the bathroom. To be fair, he’d already seen the mess, and there had been two familiar bodies in the middle of it at the time. This was shocking, but minor in comparison to the scene when it had been fresh.

“Megs, get a trashcan and we’ll throw out all the rubble,” Henri said kindly, taking control of the situation.

“So Jim’s not going to be charged with anything?” Rafe asked as he gathered himself to join in the cleaning effort.

“No, it was the virus or parasite or whatever it was that caused the, um, problems. Simmons and the other guy had the same thing. It was a medical condition.”

“But Jim’s okay now? What about Blair?”

“They’re both gonna be fine. Physically anyway. I don’t know about Hairboy, but I wouldn’t want to room with Ellison for awhile though,” Henri stated.

“How can you say that, H.?” Megan asked in a surprised tone. “They’re a team.”

“I’m just saying,” Henri replied as he put on the gloves and gathered up the shower curtain and shoved it into the trashcan Megan held out to him. “This is toast,” he said.

“Can’t it be washed?”

“No, it’s torn. But the towels can be saved I think.”

Rafe leaned against the doorframe thoughtfully. “I wonder why Blair didn’t just unscrew the pipes?”

“Hey,” Simon called out as he pushed through the curtain into Jim’s cubicle. “I came as soon as I heard you were awake.”

“The doctor called you?” Jim asked as he struggled with the bed control and raised himself into a sitting position.

“Are you kidding? Sandburg did. He said that he’s being held prisoner in his room and I should come and keep you company.”

“Oh,” Jim said, sounding relieved. “I thought…”

“What?” Simon questioned suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“Give, Ellison. That’s an order,” Simon pressed.

“I just thought he was avoiding me.”

“Hardly,” Simon laughed. “As soon as he could stand up without passing out, he was in here, against doctor’s orders I might add. His doctor finally put her foot down. She said if she caught him in here again before she was happy with his hemata-whatever that she was going to put a catheter back in him to slow him down. I’m here to tell you, Jim; that put the fear of God into him.”

Jim grimaced in sympathy as he was still dealing with that particular medical torture device. “Is he really okay?”

“It was touch and go for awhile there. He lost a lot of blood, but you know Sandburg. He’s gonna bounce back like a rubber ball.”

“He was just kidding about going to jail right? Nobody is harassing him or anything?”

“Self defense, Jim. Clear cut. Stop worrying. And stop feeling guilty. Blair knows you wouldn’t hurt him on purpose. You were just sick is all,” Simon added as Jim put a hand wearily to his forehead.

“I’m a little tired, Simon,” Jim lied, not quite up to company yet.

Simon nodded in understanding. “I’m gonna go check on the kid. You get some rest.”

Although Jim was glad to get out of the surgical ICU, the move to a step down unit had been painful and exhausting. Still, as badly as he was hurting now, he was alive and so was Blair. He sincerely hoped that the partnership would survive as well, but they hadn’t been able to see one another face to face for almost two days now. They talked frequently on the phone and sent messages back and forth via Simon, but Jim had his doubts. He thought it might be more than the doctor’s threats that kept Sandburg away.

As if he had summoned his friend with the thought, Blair poked his head into the room and took a cautious look around. “Is the coast clear?” he asked.

Jim grinned and motioned him in, suddenly feeling a lot better. “As far as I can tell,” he answered quietly.

“Where are your dials set?” Blair began, stalling his forward momentum by hesitating at the foot of the bed.

“Around three. I’ve got everything down right now.”

Blair nodded his approval, but continued to hover safely out of reach.

“Where’s your tall, skinny friend?” Jim asked, surprised by the lack of an IV pole and quite frankly relieved not to have to stare at a bag of blood infusing.

“Oh, they capped me off a few minutes ago,” Blair said and absently showed off the rubber nub where the IV line had been. “Doc says I can probably go home tomorrow. She says my hematocrit is back in the range consistent with life. I took that as consent for me to come visit you.”

“Did she actually say that you could visit?” Jim asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, but I’m certain that was her intention,” Blair hedged. “Besides, I don’t think it would be medically ethical to stick a catheter in me just to keep me in bed.”

Jim chuffed a little half-laugh, but studied his friend intently. “You still look pale.”

“You should talk. I can practically see through you,” Blair shot back quickly, a little smile crossing his lips briefly.

“Take a load off, Sandburg,” Jim offered and waved at the chair next to the bed.

“I, um… I have a few issues, Jim,” Blair admitted quietly, studying the blanket over Jim’s feet and running a hand lightly over it.

“I’m sorry,” Jim whispered.

“No, no. It’s not you, man. I mean, in my head, I know it wasn’t you….”

“Chief,” Jim breathed almost as a plea, but for what, he wasn’t certain.

“It’s okay. Simon set me up with the department shrink, and I’m okay with that. Not the first time, right?”

Jim sat silently for a few seconds. “Right.”

“He set up some time with him for you, too,” Blair said in a casual tone, but when he raised his head and met Jim’s eyes, his expression was intense. Almost confrontational.

“That’s not necessary,” Jim protested automatically.

“Come on, man,” Blair argued with a blast of controlled irritation that said he had been expecting that exact reaction from Jim. “You can’t tell me this doesn’t affect you. The cannibalistic aspect alone has to reach you on some level. You drank my blood, Jim. Maybe you couldn’t help it, but physically… that’s what you did.”

“I can handle this. And so can you. We could start now if you’d just come sit over here. I promise I won’t touch you,” Jim urged and pointed at the chair insistently. “If we don’t get anywhere, I promise I’ll think about seeing a shrink.”

“Just give me a minute,” Blair said, accepting Jim’s word and calming down considerably.

“Take your time,” Jim soothed. He could read the indecision on his partner’s face and knew what he asked wasn’t an easy thing for Blair to give. Finally, Blair took a step.

“See?” Jim encouraged, remaining still and unthreatening. “We’ll just do that thing where you introduce something a little at a time. Just sit here for awhile and then we’ll work our way up to me touching you. What do you call that?”

“Aversion therapy?” Blair asked ingenuously, but with a twinkle in his eye.

“Asshole,” Jim muttered, secretly glad that Blair could still joke with him. “And knock off the innocent look. It doesn’t work for you.”

Blair stopped at the level of Jim’s knees. “I’m going to stay with Simon for awhile,” he announced. “He offered and I took him up on it.”

“If that’s what you need to do,” Jim agreed reluctantly.

With a nod, Blair took another couple of steps. He was almost within arms length now. “And your hunting knife is history, man.”

“Consider it gone.”

“And I want you to start therapy or I won’t come home.”

“A little emotional blackmail, Chief?” Jim asked angrily. “Do you really think I’ll hurt you again?”

“No, I don’t. I think you’ll hurt you. I know you will. I just think this is too big to take on alone. Please, Jim.” As he spoke Blair lowered himself into the chair and grasped Jim’s arm beseechingly. “I wouldn’t ask for myself.”

Jim allowed his gaze to drift down to Blair’s hand. Blair’s eyes widened in amazement at his own actions, but didn’t move away.

“I guess that’s a start,” Jim said softly. “We’ll just take it one step at a time.”

“We can do that. But can’t we get a little help too?” Blair asked, squeezing Jim’s arm tightly.

“Fine. I guess it won’t hurt too much to see the shrink,” Jim gave in unenthusiastically.

Blair smiled then, and patted Jim’s arm before sliding back in the chair and propping his bare feet up on the side of the bed. “You know,” Blair began thoughtfully. “This might not be a bad time to remodel the bathroom. I’ve got a couple of ideas.”

Jim groaned, but it lacked conviction.

The End

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