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Invisible Thread      
by Kikkimax
 

Suddenly the gentle rain didn't seem so gentle as thunder rumbled in the distance. The darkness of the day somehow seemed appropriate. "Wait here, Chief. You don't need to see this," Jim mumbled as he walked by his solemn partner.

The expected argument never came. Blair nodded silently and turned away. As the detective neared the small bloodied body he heard two words Sentinel soft: "Thanks, Jim."

Jim showed no emotion as he lifted the edge of the once white sheet and examined the bludgeoned corpse beneath. In his head he cursed the sick bastard who had done this and vowed to take him down. Or take him out. Either way the man would pay. In spite of the hate and anger that welled up inside him, outwardly he kept his cool. An old covert ops trick that came in handy in poker games and detective work. For all outward appearances he might be choosing a head of lettuce at the supermarket. Yep, "check your humanity at the door" as Blair had once said. "Whatever keeps you present," he had answered or something close to it.

If Blair only knew that he wanted so badly to run screaming from the scene, to punch something and puke his guts up. He looked up with ice blue eyes and found those of his partner studying him from the front bumper of the truck only fifty feet away. The only saving grace of this whole mess was he could spare his sensitive friend this particular hell on this particular day. If he could keep him on the periphery that is. All he had to do was convince his partner he was okay. He checked his humanity and went back to work.

Blair was stunned when the call came over the radio. A small child had been found beaten to death in the park. He felt the color drain from his face as he swallowed hard and watched Jim as he answered the call and turned the truck around in true Ellison fashion; at full speed across two lanes of traffic. Blair couldn't get his head around the fact that someone could hurt a child. Closing his eyes he wished to be going anywhere but the park. He honestly didn't think he could face what he knew to be waiting there. He would do almost anything not to embarrass or disappoint his partner, but he wondered if he could do this. 'I can't', he decided as they pulled into the park. 'I can't'.

Jim parked quickly and was out of the truck moving toward the already partitioned off crime scene. Blair slid out of the seat and sought his partner's eyes with a silent plea.

"Wait here, Chief. You don't need to see this."

Blair turned away in relief, but also shame at his weakness. "Thanks, Jim," he whispered, knowing his Sentinel was already in detective mode and probably had him tuned out. He walked around to the front of the truck where he was close enough if Jim needed him, but far enough away to not really see anything. Half sitting on the bumper he contemplated life and death and stared intently at the ground, oblivious to the drizzle on his face.

After several minutes of self-loathing Blair decided to try to help in his own way. He would observe, as was his special talent. He scanned the still gathering crowd for anything out of the ordinary, knowing sometimes criminals were drawn back to the scene of the crime. Noting faces and clothes he watched the people in the crowd talking, pointing and gesturing to one another. 

This was a more passionate crime scene than he had ever seen. Of course it was a child after all, and made all the more heinous by the brutality. People were outraged and distraught as they stood in the rain. It showed on their faces and echoed in their voices. The noise must be bothering Jim he thought and unwittingly he sought out his partner. Just at that moment Jim looked up and straight at him. For an instant Blair thought he saw pain in the eyes of his friend, then nothing. The cold professional appearance of his partner reassured him Detective Ellison was in control, of his senses and his emotions.

Blair's gaze fell on the tiny sneaker that peeked out from the edge of the crimson covered sheet. His stomach flipped and he closed his eyes against the disturbing sight. 

//Suddenly he was standing in a cloud of mist next to a small boy with frightened brown eyes. The child reached up and Blair instinctively picked him up and hugged him tightly.

"I'm scared," the little one cried.

"Shh, it's okay. Everything is gonna be fine. I promise," Blair soothed. "What's your name?"

"Joshua," came the shy reply.

"I'm Blair. I'm going to help you, okay?" Blair sat the child down and knelt in front of him. He straightened the tiny stripped T-shirt and then tied one of the little shoes....//

"Come on, Blair, you're starting to scare me." Blair opened his eyes and realized someone was shaking his shoulder. Disoriented, he stared dumbly up into Rafe's concerned face.

"What?" Blair stammered, blinking his eyes as he became aware of his surroundings.  

"You hang out with Ellison, too much," Brown called from over Rafe's shoulder. "You're starting to act just like him."

"What?" Blair asked again, this time with an embarrassed grin.

"He's okay, let's go." Brown pulled his partner toward the crime scene. Rafe looked back one last time before ducking under the yellow tape. Blair took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He rubbed his eyes, wondering how he had fallen asleep so fast. The dream was disturbing, but it was more than a dream. Somehow it seemed so real.

Determined not to look anywhere near the sneaker again, Blair once again studied the mass of bodies surrounding the small army of police. At last his gaze came to rest on the face of a pleasant looking middle aged woman in the crowd who had not been there moments ago. Her face was calm in the sea of distress, which to Blair, made her look out of place. She stared serenely at the sad sight before her and as Blair followed her line of sight he realized she was staring specifically at Jim. 

Glancing back and forth between the two Blair watched as she turned her eyes from Jim directly to himself. He jumped as their eyes met and she smiled sweetly at him. She spoke to a man next to her and pointed first at Jim and then at Blair. The man nodded and they turned and disappeared into the crowd. As Blair stood to try to locate them he heard the distinct voice of Captain Banks. 

"Jim. Jim!"

Blair jumped from his perch and and headed for the yellow police tape flapping in the increasing breeze. He realized Jim was zoned on something and Simon was trying not so discreetly to pull him out of it. A uniformed officer he didn't recognize stopped him from entering the area. Blair flashed his observer ID, which the officer snagged in mid flash and actually stopped to read. 

Blair shouted urgently over the man's bent head, "Simon!"

"Let him through," came the gruff reply from Banks who looked for once only too glad to see Blair coming his way. Blair began talking softly an instant before he reached the frozen form crouched on the ground almost touching what Blair used all his self control not to look at.

"Jim, come on, man. Come on back." He reached his hand to touch the big man's shoulder. As soon as he made contact a jolt of electricity shot through him knocking both men to the ground. Blair lay dazed for a second as an unfamiliar hand touched his face. It was quickly pushed away and replaced by a larger, more recognizable one which patted his cheek softly.

"Chief? You okay?" Jim's worried voice echoed inside his head. Jim's face appeared slowly as his vision cleared. 

Blair felt oddly disconnected, his only coherent thought was that the zone-out was over and Jim was alright. Simon and the persistent uniformed officer knelt on either side of Jim. Blair numbly brought his hand up to examine the stinging sensation in his palm. It was red and starting to blister. The crowd had moved as one away from the scene. Distantly Blair still heard shouts of "lightning" among other panicked cries.

'Lightning?' Blair thought. 'No, not lightning, something else. What?' Forgetting the proximity to the object of his earlier distress he closed his eyes, forgetting the crowd, forgetting everything for the moment.

"Sandburg, only you could get struck by lightning in the middle of a crowd of people and you be the only one hurt," Simon commented wryly as he paced at the foot of the stretcher Blair rested on.

Jim sat on the stretcher on the other side of the curtain which he had pulled back enough to keep an eye on his friend. As he had insisted Blair be brought to the ER, Simon had done the same to him, using his own arguments with Blair against him. Blair's hand had been bandaged and both men were dressed back in their still damp clothes waiting to be discharged.

"Lightning?" Blair asked again incredulously. "I don't think it was lightning."

"What do you remember, Chief?" Jim slid off the stretcher and crossed over to Blair's side of the room pushing the curtain out of the way as he went.

"I remember I thought you were zoned on something and I was moving toward you. When I touched you I got the shock of my life. Literally. It came through you, Jim. It had to. That's the only place I'm burned; where I was touching you." Blair sat up and swung his feet down extending his bandaged hand as evidence. "Think about it."

"It was lightning, Blair. I saw it. Everyone saw it. It was all around you," Simon stated as if speaking to a child.

"Whatever," Blair gave in flatly. No one was listening. Not even Jim, not even the doctor. The diagnosis was 'lightning strike', despite all evidence to the contrary. Something wasn't right but he couldn't put his finger on it. He would have to think about it for awhile. Right now he just wanted to go home.

The nurse showed up with discharge papers and was overrun by three men happy to get out of the ER once again. Blair couldn't even read his own hastily written signature, telling himself the bulky dressing didn't help his penmanship. Jim was given a clean bill of health and Blair had second degree burns in the palm of his hand. But no one noticed that Jim had no such burns on his shoulder, as Blair persistently kept pointing out.

Instead of going home they went back to the park. Jim promised it would only take a minute to catch up on what, if anything, had been accomplished in their absence. The rain had stopped and although the clouds were clearing, the nearness of dusk made the atmosphere still as dreary and dark as before. The body had been removed and the 'lightning' had cleared out most of the onlookers but it seemed to Blair as if nothing had changed. A feeling of gloom enveloped him as he stepped down out of the truck.

"I'll only be a minute," Jim said as he headed toward Brown and Rafe. He stopped when he realized Blair was right behind him. He didn't want Blair to hear the report. He still wanted to keep him out of the loop on this one. "Chief, wait in the truck," he ordered.

"I'm fine, Jim."

Taking a deep breath, Jim tried to fight off the feeling of foreboding that seemed to swallow him whole.  He just couldn't seem to shake the overwhelming sense of dread. "Something's not right here. I'd feel better if you'd wait in the truck," he said softer this time, keeping his voice reassuring but knowing his face was probably grim.

"You feel it too?" Blair asked with wide-eyed surprised.

"I'll be right back," Jim gave as a non-answer and walked away. 

Blair shrugged and started back. If he wanted any chance of Jim talking about this later he would have to cooperate a little now. Besides he still felt strangely disquieted and didn't feel much like arguing. 

Before he reached the truck he saw the woman who had caught his attention earlier.  She was standing near the tree line beckoning to him with her hand. Blair glanced back to the huddled group of detectives and considered calling out to them. Taking in the still considerable police presence in the area Blair decided to take a chance and see what the woman wanted. She smiled warmly as he closed the distance between them.

Her other hand came up surprisingly quick from behind her just as Blair was about to speak. There was a flash of red and Blair jumped back as the thick liquid hit his face. Although the pungent concoction burned his eyes Blair suddenly felt his head clear and his earlier despair lift. He felt almost euphoric.

"Hey!" he shouted instinctively, trying to wipe the blood from his eyes with his sleeve. She ran and Blair followed only to trip over a root from the nearest tree in his semi-blind state. A hand caught his arm and kept him from hitting the ground. Lowering himself to sit on the root he looked up to see the same officer who had checked his ID earlier.

"Thanks," Blair muttered as the man handed him a handkerchief to wipe his face.

Jim and Rafe ducked under the tape and continued to talk as they neared the vehicles. "Where's Sandburg?" Rafe asked innocently, debating whether or not to tell Jim about how he had found Blair earlier.

Jim looked up and swore. "Shit. Not in the truck where he's suppose to be." 

Turning up his hearing Jim registered the calm steady heart beat he used as a beacon for his partner not too far away. "Over there," he told Rafe. 

He turned his head to where Blair sat near a tree talking to an officer. All he could see of his Guide were his legs because the policeman stood in his line of sight. When the man moved one step to the side Jim caught sight of the obviously bloody mess and bolted across the field, leaving a stunned Rafe in his wake.

Blair looked up and saw Jim coming his way fast. "It's not my blood," he said out loud hoping to head off the storm.

"What?" the cop asked in confusion.

"Nothing." Blair smiled at the man as he stood and braced himself for 'Blessed Protector' overdrive. "Whoa, Jim. Hold up. It's not my blood. Calm down," he said much louder.

Jim stopped short and Rafe screeched to a halt right behind him. Blair stood calmly next to the policeman as if he weren't still dripping red and offered a small smile of embarrassment.

"What happened?" Jim growled snatching the cloth from Blair's hand and wiping away some of the now drying blood Blair had missed.

"Stop it, Jim. Only Naomi can give me a spit bath in public," Blair stated emphatically as he tried unsuccessfully to regain control of the handkerchief.

"Is that what it looks like?" Rafe broke in.

"Yeah, mostly," Blair answered with a frown, hoping he didn't really smell urine. "But it's watered down some. A woman threw it on me. I don't know why."

"I saw the whole thing," the policeman offered. "She was unprovoked. She just tossed the liquid in Mr. Sandburg's face and then ran off."

Jim studied the fit young officer for a minute, wondering why he didn't give chase. "You're new," he said at last.

"John Wilkens." The man smiled and offered his hand.

Jim shook it and said "I'm Detective Ellison and this is Detective Rafe. You've met my partner Mr. Sandburg."

"Blair," Blair interjected.

"Would either of you be able to recognize the woman if you saw her again?" Rafe asked.

"Yeah."

"Of course. I got a good look at her." The men answered simultaneously.

"I want this analyzed," Jim said placing the well-used handkerchief into an evidence bag.

"Jim, it's just a little blood. No harm done. Let's just get out of here," Blair urged trying to remove the bag from the big man's vice-like grip.

Jim sighed and held the bag out of Sandburg's reach. "Do I have to remind you diseases can be transmitted through blood? If this is HIV positive then we have grounds for attempted murder charges...."

"If we ever find her...." Blair interrupted.

"....And that's a lot of blood, she may have killed someone...."

"I don't even think it's human...."

"We at least need to question her...."

"Guys! Enough!" Rafe interrupted loudly as took charge of the escalating argument. He removed the bag from Jim's hand with one quick, unexpected tug. "I'll take this to the lab and get officer Wilkens set up with a sketch artist. Jim, you take Blair home and get him cleaned up." 

"Fine," Blair answered with a glare.

"Fine," Jim  echoed even gruffer and steered his partner toward the beat up pickup. "Don't get any of that on the seat," he admonished sparking  another argument en route.

"What's the story there?" Officer Wilkens asked Rafe as he followed him back toward the crime scene.

"Well, Blair's not a cop, so Jim gets a little overprotective sometimes," Rafe explained, grinning at the confused man beside him.  

"But he does work for the department, right?  I mean he's got an ID."

"Yeah, Blair's working on his doctorate in anthropology, something about closed societies.  Technically he's an observer, but somehow he became part of the team."

"Really," Wilkens replied scratching his head.

Rafe nodded as he watched the arguing pair as they got into Jim's truck.  "Blair's a nice guy.  Really smart, too.  We're lucky to have him on our side."

Wilkens smiled and waved as the blue and white truck drove away. That was the second time in an hour someone had told him how special the curly haired young man was. In his brief conversation with Blair he had started to form the same opinion. Maybe he was the one. Maybe he could end this waking nightmare once and for all. Too bad he had to die to do it.

Almost home now. Blair sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back against the seat. 

//Instantly he found himself once again walking in the clouds, sunny blue sky above him and wispy white all around. "Josh," he called and the little boy appeared at his side and held on to his suddenly un-bandaged right hand. Another small hand slipped into his left one and Blair turned to smile at the beautiful little redheaded girl who looked up at him with hopeful green eyes.

"Who are you?" Blair asked as he knelt down next to her.

"My name is Emily Robinson and I live at one-one-five-eight Oak Street. Will you take me home?"

"I'll try," Blair started to say...//

Hard hands grabbed his shoulders and a distant voice called his name. The voice became louder and he recognized it as Jim's. "What?" he asked as he opened his eyes to Jim's frantic face.

Jim was breathing hard. He sat back against the seat but didn't release his iron grip on Blair's left shoulder. "I thought I lost you there for a minute."

Blair's brow creased for a second as he glanced down to examine the heavy wrap of gauze around his hand. He was certain he hadn't been asleep. Had he? He only half listened to Jim's monolog as he replayed the scene of the two small children and the clouds in his head.

"Blair! Talk to me." Ellison pulled the younger man's face around so he could look into the bewildered eyes. "Did you hear what I said? You weren't breathing." Jim's voice took on a rough edge.

"Really?" Now Jim had his attention. "Are you sure?" Blair pondered the information. Of course Jim was sure. "Jim, we have to talk." Blair noticed for the first time that they were parked in front of the loft. He opened the door, but Jim's hand remained firmly in place. "Jim, I need a shower. Disease and all, remember?"

Jim watched as his roommate walked toward the building. The farther away he walked the more lost Jim felt. He didn't know what had just happened, but he had felt half of his own soul twist away from him. Blair stopped at the door and waited for Jim to join him. Jumping out of the truck he slammed the door and ran to catch up with his partner. He didn't feel right until he placed his hand on Sandburg's back. He kept it there up three flights of stairs. By the time they reached the door Jim felt more centered and let his hand fall away.

"Are you okay, Jim?" Blair asked with a concerned glance as he dug in his pockets for his keys. Jim stepped up with his own key and unlocked the door.

"Am I okay?" Jim laughed with a slightly hysterical sound as he pushed the door open. "What just happened, Chief? Do we need to go back to the hospital? Do you think it has anything to do with the lightning?"

Blair slipped past Jim as soon as the door was open wide enough and stated firmly over his shoulder. "We are NOT going to the ER." 

He disappeared into his room, returning sixty seconds later with an armload of clean clothes held carefully away from the dried blood covering him. He stopped in the kitchen to grab a plastic bag to cover his bandage, as he was a little too experienced with bathing with an injury. "And there wasn't any lightning," he added. "I still have to process this. We'll talk when I get out of the shower."

Jim hung up his coat and stared after the whirlwind that had become such a large part of his life. When Blair had stopped breathing, even for those few seconds, Jim had flashed on the fountain. That damn fountain, the symbol of his ultimate failure. He didn't think he could take losing Blair again. He listened as the water came on in the shower, but he pushed past the sound to the steady pattern of breathing beyond it. Suddenly he grinned.

"I know you're listening out there, big guy," Blair teased in his DJ voice, "so this one goes out to my favorite Sentinel...You don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't spit in the wind, you don't pull the mask off of no lone ranger and you don't mess around with Jim..." Blair sang enthusiastically.

"Very funny, Sandburg!" Jim yelled to his roommate who only sang louder. "Punk," Jim muttered under his breath with a smile. 

Jim wandered into the kitchen and looked around for something for dinner. He put together some sandwiches even though he wasn't really hungry, but he had to do something while he waited for Blair to clean up. 

The song and the water stopped and Jim could hear the splatter of water on the tub as Blair wrung out his hair. Blair continued to hum as he toweled off and dressed.  Jim carried a plate of sandwiches and a couple of beers into the living room as Blair exited the bathroom and headed straight for the couch.

"Good idea!" Blair praised as he settled in. "I'm famished." He dug heartily into an overflowing sub oblivious to the occasional drip from his hair falling onto the couch.

"You would be," Jim chuckled. He eyed a sandwich and picked up a beer instead. He only held it though without removing the top. "You through processing?" he asked gently.

"Yeah, I guess." Blair spoke around a mouthful of food. He swallowed and looked at his partner. "You're not gonna like it," he replied tentatively and took a long drink of beer.

"Tell me."

Blair picked at his sandwich avoiding his friend's eyes. "I, um, saw some things today." He took another bite and chewed thoughtfully.

"Look, Chief, this one was rough...."

"His name was Joshua, right? He was around five years old. Black hair, brown eyes, medium dark complexion...."

"Don't...."

"He was wearing a blue and red striped shirt, but no jacket. Jeans and black and white sneakers, the left one was untied...."

"Who told you?" Jim asked angrily, ready to snap someone's head off for giving Blair the details he had tried to keep from him.

"No one told me, Jim. I saw him. I talked to him. I can't explain it, we were standing in a cloud...."

"Stop it, Sandburg. Just shut up! That's crazy." Jim jumped from the couch and started pacing.

"How else would I know?" Blair asked calmly. "All I could see was the shoe. How would I know the details?" 

"No. It was just the lightning. It made you confused...."

"Jim, there was no lightning," Blair stated emphatically. "Think about it. All those people and we were the only ones hit? I don't think so. Did you hear any thunder? Cause I sure as hell didn't. It came from the ground up. It ran through you to get to me. It didn't want me there. I could feel it. If you'll be honest with yourself for a minute you'll say that you felt it too." 

"It? What are you saying?" Jim stopped pacing and stared disbelieving at his friend.

"There was a... a presence. You felt it, too. You said 'something's not right here' Jim, please don't deny it now. You were doing more than protecting my tender sensibilities this time. You didn't want me near the crime scene. Admit it," Blair urged.

"I don't know." Jim dropped into the chair nearest Blair. "You seem awfully calm about this if it's true."

"Believe me, I was freaked out. I really was until..." Blair thought back to the moment in the park when his fear went away, "until the woman threw the blood on me. That was the turning point. It had a remarkable calming effect, cleansing almost...."

"The woman. Tell me about her." Jim changed the subject, desperate for something more normal, like a crazy woman throwing blood on people.

"She was watching you. I saw her in the crowd. She seemed out of place."

"What did she look like?"

Blair shrugged. "Middle aged, brown hair with some gray, short. The hair, not the woman. Although I guess she wasn't all that tall either. Plump, pleasant looking. She had a nice smile."

"Nice police style description...."

"Eat a bug, Jim." Blair grinned for a second before continuing. "Anyway she was watching you and then turned and looked directly at me. We weren't together." Blair indicated himself and Jim with his hand. "There was no reason for her to assume we even knew each other, but the way she did it you would've thought we were tied together with a rope. She made a connection between us. She got away and I didn't see her again until we got back from the hospital. Then you know what happened."

Jim nodded and popped the top of his beer to take a fortifying sip. "What happened just now, in the truck?"

"Clouds again, man. This time there were two children. Joshua and a little girl. Emily Robinson. She wants to go home, Jim." When Blair looked up there were unshed tears in his eyes. "I have to help them. I promised."

"Let's go to the station." Jim was on his feet and moving to the door. Blair gathered up the other sandwich. No sense letting it go to waste. He eyed his bloody jacket next to the door and passed it up. It wasn't raining anymore so he didn't bother to locate another one.

Jim gave him a disapproving glare as he shut the door. "If you get cold, you're not getting my coat."

Blair stared dumbly at the computer screen. Emily Robinson of 1158 Oak Street, Portland Oregon had died a little more than a year ago the same way as Joshua Baker had died today. The sweet face he had seen in the clouds smiled back at him from the monitor on Jim's desk. The fact that Blair had known what he would find didn't lessen the shock he now felt as theory became fact.

Jim hadn't returned from forensics yet, so Blair had a little time for his experiment. Taking a few deep breaths he relaxed in Jim's chair and rested his head on his crossed arms on the desk. 

//As soon as he closed his eyes he found himself in the middle of a storm cloud. He consciously tried to open his eyes and find himself in the bullpen, but he couldn't. Okay, it only worked one way. Someone would have to bring him out of it. The clouds grew darker and thunder echoed in the distance. It was near, Blair could feel it. Curiously, he felt no fear, but a growing anger.

Suddenly he was surrounded by frightened children. They called to him and grabbed at him, touching him from all sides. He spotted Emily and Joshua as they tried to get closer to him as even more children surrounded him. They were all young, only four or five years old. They were of different races and nationalities, and wore clothing of different eras in time. Blair began to feel overwhelmed by their collective need for him. 

They all clamored for his attention, for his comfort and reassurances. He reached out and stroked the heads of those that were closest to him, he reached out to the others with his voice. He began to sing softly the first song that popped into his head. One he had heard in many different places during his world travels.

"Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world..."

As many of the children joined the song the clouds began to lighten. As the heavenly choir of tiny voices grew in volume the sun broke through and the thunder ceased. "...Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world."//

When he felt a gentle thump on his back Blair began the song again.

"That's an odd song for a Jewish boy to be singing." Blair raised his head from the desk at the teasing tone in the Captain's voice. The big man's hand still rested on Blair's back.

"Was I singing out loud?" Blair asked and looked around to see who else had heard him. He's cheeks grew warm even though this time of the evening the bullpen was almost deserted.

"I don't think anyone else heard you. I was coming over to check on you before I left. You were so still before you started singing I didn't even think you were breathing," Simon informed him seriously.

"He probably wasn't," Jim said peevishly from the door. He stopped and looked at the computer screen and turned to Blair with a questioning glance. Blair nodded solemnly.

"Would somebody mind telling me what's going on?" Simon asked, now more annoyed than concerned.

"You don't want to know, sir," Jim answered placing a hand on top of Blair's head to tilt the younger man's face up. "I want you to stop doing that," he sternly told his Guide.

"I can't help it," Blair whispered fervently, pulling away from the restraining hand. It wasn't really a lie, after all, the first two times had happened spontaneously.

"You're right. I don't want to know. Go home. It's late." Simon spun around and walked out the door.

Jim sat down wearily next to Blair to read the information about Emily Robinson that was still up on the screen. "You were right about the blood," he offered absently. "It wasn't human. Goat's blood mostly, mixed with water, sage, and some other organic materials you probably don't want to know about."

"Holy water. The blood was mixed with holy water. I looked up some stuff. It's used in certain cultural rituals for cleansing mostly. I think the woman was trying to help me, Jim."

Jim frowned at the information, but didn't answer.

"There's something else," Blair continued. "Wilkens never showed up to meet the sketch artist. I called to check and found out there is no Officer John Wilkens in the department. Never was."

The phone rang and Jim snatched it up before the echo of the first ring died. "Ellison... Yeah?... When?" Blair fidgeted during the long pause as Jim listened. "Good work, guys."

When he hung up the phone he clicked off the computer. "It's over, Chief. That was Rafe, they found a suicide near the park. The man had Joshua Baker's jacket and teddy bear. He left a note saying he didn't know why he did it. There's lots of forensic evidence. They should be able to clear everything up by tomorrow afternoon." Jim stood and put on his jacket. "Let's go home. We'll tie up the loose ends in the morning."

"Nothings over, Jim." Blair said seriously.  His angry eyes met Jim's concerned ones briefly before he looked back at the blank computer screen.

As they entered the loft Blair slipped out of Jim's jacket and hung it by the door. "Night, Jim," he said and shuffled off towards his room.

"Wait, Chief. Promise me..."

"Go to bed, Jim. It's been a long day."

"Do you really think I can sleep knowing the minute you close your eyes you may stop breathing? Will you? Stop breathing again?"

"I don't know. Let's find out." Blair kicked off his shoes as soon as he entered his room. As he settled on top of the covers he was aware of Jim standing in the doorway. Closing his eyes he thought of the presence he had felt in the clouds and his anger began to build once again. He tried to push away his hatred for the thing and just focus on the clouds but he couldn't. The clouds never came. 

"I can't," he sighed.

Jim forcibly exhaled a breath. "Are you sure?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"So it really is over. Good night, Chief."

"'Night, Jim." Blair rolled on his side and debated pulling off his clothes for a second. His thoughts returned to the mass of lost young souls. He had failed them and now he couldn't even reach them. He fell at last into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Jim listened for a long time. Try as he might, he couldn't tear his mind away from the gentle breathing pattern of his sleeping friend. Most nights the sound lulled him right to sleep, but tonight he felt that each breath would be the last. It was over, he told himself firmly. If he monitored Blair all night he might just as well admit that it wasn't. At last he reached into the drawer of his night stand and took out his much-hated white noise ear plugs. Within minutes he, too, was asleep.

"Shh, don't be afraid," a feminine voice cooed in Blair's ear as he woke to gentle fingers on his lips. The words were familiar. They were similar to his own words, words he had used to calm a just murdered little boy a few hours ago.

"Good. You're here," he said sleepily as he brushed away the fingers and sat up against the headboard. "I have lots of questions."

"Rafe said you were smart. I guess he was right if we don't have to explain to you why we're here," came a man's voice from the door way.

"Wait a minute. How did you get in here?" Blair asked as he took in the dark silhouette and recognized the pseudo cop.

"I stole your keys at the park today after Amanda told me you were what we were looking for. I got your address from the DMV computer in one of the squad cars."

"Be careful, my roommate will show up any second. Jim, everything's fine. Don't shoot anybody, okay?" he called out only slightly louder, confused that Jim didn't already have a gun held to the other man's head.

"I'll see to him," Wilkens said and disappeared into the dark.

"Don't underestimate him, John," Blair warned not wanting the man to come to harm. He turned back to the woman perched close to him on the edge of his bed. "You're here because of the children," he stated.

"You're not afraid," the woman said as she brushed curls away from Blair's face. "Maybe you should be."

"I'm angry. If I could get past that maybe I would be afraid. You 're here to help me, right?"

Amanda laughed lightly. "Actually, I came to ask you to help me, but I think maybe you've got it right. I have the will but not the means to face the monster. I believe you have the means."

"Why me?" Blair asked softly, doubting his own strength.

The woman stroked Blair's face and hair with a soft rhythm. "Because you're very empathic, you're kind and good at heart, and you already know the way. You've been there before."

Jim woke with a start as a hand grabbed his arm and clinked a handcuff over his wrist. The other end of the set was already fastened to the rail at the head of the bed. "Wilkens!" he growled as he ripped the offending ear plugs out, "if that really is your name."

"It is, I'm just not a cop," the man said, a little startled that the detective had recognized his so readily in the dark before he even spoke.

"Blair?" Jim shouted.

"Jim, it's cool. Don't worry," came a quick, calm reply from below. Jim listened and found Blair's heart rate to be normal so he relaxed, a little.

"If you harm him in any way, I'll kill you," Jim warned quietly.

The man began to back away down the stairs. "I believe you would," he said.

Jim tuned in on the conversation below him in Blair's room. He couldn't block it out now if he tried. The first words he heard gave him a stabbing pain in his heart.

"How did you die?" the woman asked gently as she held Blair's hand.

He swallowed before answering. "I drowned."

"That must have been painful," she said.

"It was. At first I mean. Then there was, I don't know, a euphoria of some sort. It was peaceful. But I don't remember the clouds. There were other things going on at the time."

"The clouds?"

"Where the children are...there are clouds."

"You have already been with the children?" the woman's voice filled with awe and her grip tightened in his hand.

"Please explain to me what's going on," Blair pleaded. "I need information. Tell me everything." 

An older man flipped on the light as he stepped casually into the room. "Let's make some coffee and talk in the living room like civilized people, shall we? Amanda, quit petting the poor boy. Give him some space."

The woman reluctantly released her hold on Blair and he slid to the floor and past the men. "Jim, are you okay?" he called out as he trotted up the stairs to rescue his partner for a change. He turned on every light he passed on the way.

"Get my keys off the dresser," Jim directed from the bed. Blair found the handcuff keys and quickly undid the cuffs then tossed Jim his robe. He eyed the ear plugs on the bed and gave Jim a questioning look.

Jim slipped on his robe and shrugged. "I couldn't sleep," he offered lamely.

"We're gonna talk in the living room like civilized people," Blair grinned.

"Yeah, I know," Jim said as he picked up his gun.

"Key word: civilized. Lose the gun," Blair instructed as he trotted back down the stairs anxious to get started.

"No," Jim replied, stubbornly holding onto the weapon as he followed Blair to the livingroom.

Wilkens was making coffee and the woman and older man were already seated on the couch and love seat respectively. Blair sat on the other end of the couch, so Jim sat between him and the woman. There would be no more petting of Blair tonight. To his surprise the woman smiled at him and placed an arm across the back of the couch, resting her hand lightly on the nape of his neck. Jim had to admit she really did have a nice smile. Very soothing, motherly. Jim smiled back at her, a little embarrassed, and placed the gun on the coffee table. Blair smirked at him and rolled his eyes.

"Mr. Sandburg, Detective Ellison, I am Robert Tarlington. This is Amanda Blakely and I believe you have already meet John Wilkens." 

Everybody nodded silent greetings as Wilkens brought a coffee pot and mugs over to the group. 

"I used to be a priest," the older man continued. "A little over ten years ago I came across an evil presence, one I think you might have felt today if I'm not mistaken. This demon if you will, preys upon fear. The innocent fear of little children to be exact. I became obsessed with ridding the world of this monster. I walked away from the priesthood to chase the thing. Eventually I met Miss Blakely. She is a psychic and can at times make contact with the victims. We've traveled together for six years now, tracking this evil spirit. Mr. Wilkens joined us approximately fifteen months ago after the death of his niece...."

"Emily...." Blair whispered. He raised his eyes to meet those of the man now sitting across from him.

"Yes," Wilkens answered softly, his voice full of wonder.

"We felt at the time that John's strong connection to Emily might help us to make contact. In fact, we felt he was the one who could end this whole debacle. Unfortunately, it didn't work out." Tarlington continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Amanda has always assured us there would be someone who could... help."

"At the park I felt your presence. It was strong. But it came through you..." Amanda spoke to Blair and then turned and caressed Jim's arm.

"She's kind of touchy-feely," Wilkens explained with a shaky voice, his eyes threatening to overflow. "You get used to it. She's an empath, as am I."

Jim nodded. The woman's touch was very soothing. He didn't mind at all.

"You are bonded together somehow. There is an invisible thread that binds your souls. You give each other your strengths through the thread. You..." She looked up at Jim's impassive face, "are physically strong, with special abilities." Jim and Blair glanced at each other, but neither spoke. "You..." she reached across Jim to grasp Blair's hand and pull it to rest with hers in Jim's lap, "are the true strength here. Your strength is in your spirituality and pureness of heart. You have a great deal of power you are not even aware of. You are...." she hesitated as if looking for a word.

"A shaman," Jim supplied. Blair pulled his hand away and uncomfortably studied his coffee.

"Yes. That fits. You already knew, but you don't pursue it," Blakely said and nodded.

"Anyway," Tarlington interrupted, "Amanda got us here before the murder this time. Not soon enough, I'm afraid. Then we found you."

"How many children has this 'thing' killed?" Jim asked, not really believing, afraid not to believe.

John answered quickly, "Amanda has confirmed eight, but we think as many as twelve, if we go back...."

"No," Blair whispered hoarsely. "You've got it all wrong. You don't understand at all!" Blair was on his feet now. He paced nervously. Tears flowed freely down his face as he recalled the sea of scared little faces as they swarmed around him. All eyes were on him, waiting impatiently for an explanation. He stopped and looked at them as comprehension dawned on him. "It doesn't kill them."

"What!?" Came a chorus of disbelief.

"I don't know if it makes the murders happen or not, but IT doesn't actually do it. It waits until the ultimate moment of fear, the pinnacle of horror, and then it steals their souls. It keeps them with it for eternity. Traps them forever in terror."

"How many?" Amanda's voice was hushed, reverent.

Blair turned and leaned heavily against the back of the couch with his back to them. "Hundreds," he sighed, his voice so soft all but Jim had to strain to hear it. "They don't understand. They're just little kids!" His voice rose as the anger swelled within him. As he stood he threw the cup in his hand against the wall and watched in mute horror as the ceramic hit the brick. A multitude of little pieces showered down. One piece for each stolen soul. After what seemed like an eternity of silence Blair sighed. "I have the means," he said at last, softly to the wall.

"No." Jim was on his feet and moving toward his Guide.

"Stop it, Jim." Blair moved away. "I have to do this."

"You can't. You stop breathing every time you go to that place," Jim argued.

Blair stared at his friend with an unreadable expression. "That's the whole point, Jim," he said at last.

"I won't let you die." Jim turned on the people behind him. "Find someone else. I won't let him die!" he shouted.

Blair glared at his friend for a full minute, too pissed off to speak. At last he shook his head and freed himself of the anger and gently grabbed the big man by the elbows. "Jim, look at me." Jim tried to pull away, but at the moment Sandburg was a force to be reckoned with. "Look at me!" Jim reluctantly did as he was told.

"I AM going to do this. I don't need your approval, but I would like to have your support. In fact, the only way I'll come out of this alive is if I have your help. Don't let me down, Jim. I need you."

"That's not fair, Chief..." 

"I need you as an anchor to bring me back," Blair said. Much softer he added "You did it before."

"What if I can't do it again? I need you, too," Jim answered just as low. "I know I'm a selfish bastard but I don't want to give you up."

"Jim, if you could have been there when Joshua Baker was being beaten and killed would you have tried to save him?" Blair asked quietly.

Jim shot a deadly look at his partner. "Don't...."

"I know you. You would have put your life on the line to save him....'

"No..." Jim struggled away from the tightening grip.

"Yes! You would have died to save his life. If you never saw him before, never knew his name... Dammit, Jim... Yes, you would! He's still suffering, man. I know his name!"

"God, Chief!" Jim swore as he pulled his partner into a tight embrace.

"I know his face, Jim," Blair cried as he buried his face in Jim's chest. "I know all their faces. They need me. I can't walk away without trying. I couldn't face myself in the mirror if I did. I couldn't face you."

The others watched and waited anxiously as the battle of wills raged. They cast nervous glances at each other, but none doubted what the outcome would be.

"Four minutes," Blair said at last as he slightly rocked in his Sentinel's arms.

"What?" Came a suspiciously tremulous response.

"Give me four minutes. It takes at least four minutes for brain cells to start to die when deprived of oxygen. If I can't do anything in four minutes I promise I won't try again."

"I don't like it," Jim complained.

"I don't like it either. Please, Jim. I need you. The children need you. Four minutes."

Jim pushed Blair to arms length to study his earnest face. "What happens if I can't get you back?"

"Start CPR?" Blair shrugged and glanced at Amanda.

Jim moved towards the chair and sank wearily into it. He dropped his head into his hands in defeat. "Okay," he uttered softly.

"Really?" Blair followed and knelt in front of him. "You mean it?"

"Two conditions." Ellison fixed his partner with a stone-cold blue stare. "One, we call an ambulance before we even get started. I want them on the way. Two, you keep your promise. If nothing happens in the allotted four minutes you don't get a second chance. Ever. With or without me. I want your word on it. No lies, no obfuscations."

"Jim, I promise." Their eyes locked for a second. Blair smiled, Jim didn't.

"If you die on me, so help me I'll...." Jim paused searching for words.

"Kill me?" Blair supplied seriously.

Jim was on the phone. He wanted backup. Someone he knew and trusted. He wanted Simon. He also wanted to stall for time, though he would never admit it.

Blair sat on the couch calmly drinking coffee when John approached him. "You saw Emily?" he asked as he sat on the edge of the coffee table.

"Yeah," Blair smiled a little. "She's beautiful."

John sighed and looked at his hands. "I have this vision in my head. She's bloody and bruised, the way they found her...."

"No. I didn't see her that way. She was clean and pretty. I held her hand."

"I tried, you know. I couldn't do it. Amanda thought I would be the one to destroy the beast. We didn't realize they were still with it."

"You believe all of this so easily," Blair mused out loud.

"So do you," John countered.

"Oh, I believe it. I felt it. It tried to kill me. I felt it pass right through me in the park." Blair shuddered at the memory. Jim lifted his head and looked at him as he hung up the phone. "If it couldn't kill me then it can't kill me now," Blair said, more to Jim than to Wilkens.

"Simon's on the way," Jim announced and came to sit with Blair on the couch. He put an arm around his Guide and soaked in the life that radiated from him.

"Tell me about Emily," Blair urged the despondent man in front of him.

John smiled. "She was great. A little firecracker. Always into something. She loved dolls. She had this beautiful porcelain doll that Uncle Jon Jon gave her. She named the thing Cynthia. Carried it with her all the time. She had it with her when... she had it with her all the time."

Amanda joined the group. "Blair, I need to talk to you." She stood behind the couch and gently rubbed Blair's temples. He laid his head back against Jim's arm into the relaxing massage. "I can feel your anger. It may defeat our purpose here."

"What do you mean?" Blair asked looking up at her.

"Your anger clouds your spirit. Only positive emotions will prevail against the evil of this entity. I fear your anger may strengthen it. Young ones are keenly aware of negative emotions. They may not understand. If they think you are angry with them, they will be fearful of you as well. If they are they will not follow where you lead."

"I think that's why I couldn't get through the last time I tried," Blair nodded his agreement. "You're right, I'm sure. But how do I get past these negative emotions?"

"Lay down. Jim, move to the end and let him lay in your lap." Both men complied. "Now close your eyes. I want you to concentrate on your friend. Use the thread to reach out to him. Find his emotions, use them. Jim, think happy thoughts. Reach back to Blair. Help him even out his anger, help him relax." Amanda reached over the couch and placed one hand on each man's head. Blair leaned back and closed his eyes.

"Wait." Jim tried to get up but one look from Blair stopped him. "This is a bad idea," Jim said. "Don't close your eyes. Simon isn't here yet. We're not ready."

"Calm down, man. We're just gonna take the edge off a little. I'd rather do this before Simon gets here, anyway."

"Jim, you have to relax," Amanda soothed. "Here. Lean back and close your eyes as well. Come on." Jim grimaced, but did as he was told. "Now think of something that calms you. Something that brings you peace."

"Nothing comes to mind right now," Jim complained.

"Jim, you're not even trying." This time Blair sat up and tried to move away. A large hand caught him by the collar and returned him to his reclining position.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'll try. Give me a minute," Jim sighed.

Jim and Blair both settled themselves and closed their eyes. Jim reached out with his hearing to the one thing that always seemed to calm his nerves. It was the same thing he listened to at night when he couldn't sleep. It was the thing that he tuned into after an adrenaline stimulating event, like a shoot out or a car chase, mostly to check on his partner, but also to calm himself down. He doubted that Blair even knew it, even though it was Sentinel Standard Operating Procedure. 

He was surprised, even a little awed how steady and calm it was right at the moment when his own heart was about to beat out of his chest. Jim listened to Blair's heartbeat with his whole being. As if he would never hear it again. Truth be told, that was exactly what he was afraid would happen.

Blair was aware the exact second Jim began to relax. Amanda's good, he thought as he drew from Jim's deep well of tranquility. He let his anger fall away and replaced it with serenity and peace. The Sentinel/Guide bond seemed exaggerated by the empathic touch of the psychic. Blair even felt it as Jim slipped into the zone-out, not knowing his own heart beat was the cause. He tried to sit up, to bring back his partner, but it was too late. 

//He was already in the clouds.

It was different this time. He wasn't alone. He could feel the essence of Jim and to a certain degree Amanda. They were close and it comforted him. The clouds were fluffy and white, not dark and threatening like the last time he'd been here. The presence was distant and weak, as if kept at bay by the positive energy. As if on cue Joshua appeared out of the whiteness and threw himself into Blair's embrace.

"Hey, buddy." Blair kissed the top of his head and hugged him tight for a minute. "Are you ready to get out of here?" he asked.

The little one beamed up at his savior and nodded his consent. Instinctively Blair turned and led the child into the drifting white that surrounded them. As they walked the clouds suddenly cleared and the sky broke into a kaleidoscope of color and light, like the most beautiful sunrise Blair had ever seen. For a brief moment they stood at the edge in amazement and wonder. Joshua looked up and smiled in understanding. 

Other children had followed, drawn by Blair's presence. They approached timidly at first as Joshua waved good-bye and stepped into the bright, beautiful light. One by one the others stepped forward, some touching Blair as they passed. Some laughed, others cried tears of joy. Blair felt his heart swell as moisture spilled from his own eyes. He smiled and encouraged them to go, to let go of their fear and pain and move on. The trickle turned into a torrent and soon they were rushing by him in a mass of color and movement. Their fear was gone, replaced by joy and peace. Blair's spirit soared as they moved away. He was tempted to join them as he had come so close one time before. But he still had things to do in his own world, and Jim was waiting.

Simon burst into the loft. He'd made the fifteen minute drive in a little over eight minutes, breaking every traffic law in the process, lights and sirens all the way. 

"What the hells going on!" he shouted as he came through the door and took in the sight of two men pulling Blair from Jim's lap.

They deposited Blair gently on the floor then moved away, staring at him intensely. Simon realized immediately Jim was in a deep zone. On closer examination he realized there was no rise and fall of Blair's chest. He moved to Blair's side, knowing Jim's situation would keep at least for a little while, but Blair's would not. 

One of the men blocked his way while the older man spoke. "Not yet. He's still got two minutes. We have to give him time."

"He's not breathing!" Simon yelled as he attempted to push the phony cop out of the way. He found himself first on the receiving end of a hard right cross and a second later on the floor looking up into the barrel of a large gun. Jim's gun to be exact.

"Everything is going to work out, Captain," Wilkens explained. "Just be patient."

"Maybe you can help me," a plump little woman called from the couch. "I don't know what to do with Jim."

Simon got to his knees and glared at the man holding the gun on him to keep him away from Blair. The man looked apologetic, but didn't budge. He checked his watch every few seconds anxiously. Simon wiped the blood off his split lip and crawled over to Jim on the couch.

"Jim, come on back," he pleaded. "Dammit, Sandburg needs you!" He patted Jim's face softly at first, then harder. "Jim!"

"Four minutes!" Wilkens announced as he dropped down beside Blair on the floor, the gun forgotten. "Blair, time's up," he said as he grasped Blair by the shoulders and gave him a resounding shake.

When he got no response, Wilkens tilted Blair's head back and gave two long breaths. Simon watched as Blair's chest rose with each puff of air. Wilkens raised a hand to Blair's neck and felt for a pulse. As he opened his mouth to deliver the bad news Jim bolted off the couch, knocking Amanda and Simon out of the way as he went. 

When Blair's heart stopped, it broke the zone. Jim fell to his knees next to his partner and covered Blair's mouth with his own as Wilkens counted out the chest compressions.

"Blair! Snap out of it," Jim begged between rescue breaths. "Please, God, please. Blair, please."

Blair turned away from the light. It was too much of a temptation to step into it and toward what lay on the other side. He noticed the sky was beginning to gray around him and felt the evil as it approached. With the children already gone he had nothing to worry about. When four minutes were up he would wake up in the loft with Jim at his side. Everything would be fine, right? 

Abruptly he was overcome with fear. He hadn't seen Emily go through the portal. He had looked for her, but in the end they had gone by so many and so fast. Now he was sure she hadn't gone by him. He had thought that when all the fear was gone the entity would lose its power, yet it still remained. He was suddenly sick with certainty that Emily was still on the wrong side of the light.

Blair began to run towards the building storm. At last he saw her. Emily stood in the middle of a dark spot in the cloud. She was bloodied and bruised, just like Wilkens had described her. She was screaming and crying as if at the moment of her death. It was the most heart wrenching sound Blair had ever heard. As his fear increased, the clouds darkened and thunder rumbled in the darkness. It grew near and Blair wondered how he would face it. If he even could. He made a snap decision to grab Emily and run into the light.

"Sorry, Jim. I don't have a choice anymore," Blair said out loud. "Emily," he called. She wouldn't look at him, instead moving away from him, in her desperation, moving toward the ever increasing darkness and farther from the light.

Blair stopped pursuing her and sat on the 'ground'. "Emily," he called again forcing a cheerfulness that he did not feel. "Do you remember me? My name is Blair." He fought to keep the panic out of his voice. "I know your uncle Jon Jon. He sent me to get you."

Emily stopped her crying and looked over at him hopefully. "I want to take you home now. Will you come with me." Blair continued softly. "Cynthia is waiting for you. Do you want to see Cynthia?"

The darkness loomed heavily over their heads now. Emily creeped slowly towards him with obvious terror. "Come on, baby. Come on," Blair whispered urgently.

She reached out to him tentatively and as soon as she was close enough Blair latched onto her arm and pulled her into a protective hug. As first she screamed and fought, pulling Blair's hair and kicking at him.

"It's all right, sweetie, it's okay," Blair soothed as he rose to his feet and turned to run back to where the light had been. Just as he spotted it Blair fell as if tripped by the cloud itself. 

"Emily! Get up. Run!" Blair shouted at her. She looked from him to the shimmering halo of light then back to the hateful pitch black storm that was overtaking Blair.

Emily stood and ran as fast as she could into the light. As she entered it the blood and fear were swept away. Her clothes appeared clean and pressed and she smiled. Blair sat up and smiled after her. He knew he wouldn't make the portal before the monster reached him but Emily was safe. That was enough. His fear left him just as there was a crushing weight on his chest...//

"Aurrgh." he groaned and opened his eyes. Jim was leaning down over him as if to give him an open mouthed kiss. "Hey, man. Don't even think about it," he managed to get out.

Choruses of 'Sandburg' and 'Blair' rang out all around him, just as the door burst open and Tarlington led a couple of paramedics into the loft.

Jim sank to the floor and lay there for several seconds. "Don't ever do that to me again, Chief. I'm getting way too old for this."

"You and me both," Simon echoed as he moved out of the way of the stretcher.

"No way. No hospital. I'm fine, Jim," Blair pleaded when he caught sight of the medical personnel.

"Just let them check you out," Jim suggested firmly.

After vital signs and a load of bull, Blair convinced everyone he was indeed fine. When the ambulance crew finally left he turned to Wilkens. "She made it out, man. They all did."

"What about the entity?" Tarlington asked.

"Gone," Amanda answered confidently. "I felt it's presence vanish just as Blair came back to us. I suppose it had nothing to fed on after the fear was gone."

Some time later when all the excitement died down and everyone had gone Jim settled on the couch beside an uncharacteristically still Sandburg.

"Ribs hurt?" Jim inquired knowingly.

"Hum?" Blair looked up and thought for a minute. "Yeah, a little I guess. CPR's a bitch."

"You would know," Jim said without mirth. He tugged his partner to lay down in his lap. Blair went without protest. "We never talked about it before," Jim murmured brushing back curls from his friend's forehead so he could see into the clear blue eyes. "You know... when you died. I heard you telling Amanda what it was like. I told you I wasn't ready to take that trip with you. I let you deal with it all on your own. I'm sorry, Blair. But I'm ready now."

Blair smiled and took a deep breath. He knew the evening was far from over so he started to talk. To share his secrets of life and death with his blessed protector.    

The End

Disclaimer - Images, characters, and settings taken from various television shows are the property of their respective owners, producers, etc.  No copyright infringement intended, I'm just having a little fun.