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Obsession
by Kikkimax
 

"Hey, Jim." Blair glanced up briefly and flashed a quick smile at his roommate and then lowered his gaze back to his lap top.

Jim tossed his keys into the basket by the door but frowned slightly when he caught sight of Blair's face. He crossed the room to the couch where his partner sat and grasped the younger man's chin in one hand while he took off his glasses with the other. "What happened here?" he asked without preamble.

"What?" Blair asked with a puzzled look as his friend studied his face. "You can see that?" he added as he realized what the detective was looking at.

"Yeah, I can see that, without Sentinel sight. What happened?" Jim released the chin and gently rubbed the darkened spot on Blair's left cheek with his thumb.

"Ow." Blair pulled back and blinked. "I can't believe that left a mark." He sat down the computer and retrieved his glasses from Jim as he passed him on the way to the bathroom. 

Ellison followed and stood in the door as he watched him examine his bruised face in the mirror. 

"Oh, man, that's all I need."

"Are you going to tell me about it, or am I gonna have to mark you up myself to get an answer?"

"It was nothing, really. A student hit me. I can't believe it left a mark," he repeated.

"A student hit you?" Jim exclaimed. "Why didn't you call me? Did you file a police report?"

Blair finished his study in the mirror and turned to face to bigger man. "Calm down, Jim. I told you, it was nothing. Campus security took care of it. No problem," he said as he gingerly put his glasses back on. 

He had honestly forgotten the incident, but after checking out the bruise, it somehow hurt. When he moved to go back to the living room Jim blocked his exit.

"At least tell me how it happened," Jim asked, feigning patience.

Blair shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "I don't really know. I mean, I finished my lecture and most of the class was leaving, but a few gathered around to ask questions or whatever. Kimberly came in and spoke to me and then bam! Next thing I knew there was a fist in my face."  

"So did they expel the student?"

"No, they let her off with a warning. She said she was really stressed and I..."

"She?" Jim interrupted. "A girl hit you?"

"I told you it was nothing." Blair pushed his way past his now laughing roommate and rolled his eyes. "I guess she had a ring on," he added touching the tender spot with a fingertip.

"So basically, you got slapped?" Jim finally managed to get out between stifling his laughter.

"No, no, Jim. This is a big girl. They call her Brutus around campus because she has a habit of roughing up football players and wrestlers and...She hit me hard. Right cross, I was stunned for a minute."

"Yeah, right, Chief. I should have known it was girl trouble. What did you do? Not call the day after a big date?"

"Not funny, man. You know I don't date students. Besides, this girl could probably bench press me," Blair argued.

"What about this Kimberly. I've heard you mention her a couple of times."

"She's a TA, that's different," Blair grinned.

Jim nodded. "Um hum, different." He didn't sound too convinced. "Wait 'til the guys hear about this."

"Oh, man, Jim! And you wonder why I don't tell you things." Blair plopped down on the couch and snatched his lap top up. "I'll never hear the end of this."

"Okay, I won't tell everyone," Jim soothed as he trotted up the stairs. "Just Simon."

"Whatever," Blair grumbled as he got back to work.

Blair was somewhat uncommunicative for the rest of the evening, but if his feelings were hurt, he didn't show it. He said he had eaten a late lunch and continued to tap away at his keyboard, even though, technically, it was his night to fix dinner. 

Jim made himself a sandwich and ate it on the couch while watching the game. Every now and then he cast a glance at his partner, wondering if he was really into something or if, in fact, he was just giving him the silent treatment.  But Blair stayed on the couch and even drank the beer Jim offered him so he took those to be good signs and didn't worry, too much. 

Blair glanced up to see who had knocked on and then opened his office door. He took off his glasses and sat back in his chair. "Hello, Christina. Come on in," he said solemnly.

"Am I disturbing you, Mr. Sandburg? I can come back later..." 

Blair tried to appear as non-threatening as possible as he appraised the young woman who stood in his door, but she never met his calm gaze. She was attractive in a clean cut, tom boy way. Not what most people would consider beautiful, but pretty. Her blonde hair was much shorter than Blair's own brown tresses and she perpetually wore gym clothes, never any makeup. Her athletic build somehow seemed incongruent with the extreme shyness.

"No, it's okay. Have a seat."

She sat on the very edge of the chair closest to the door and steadily stared at the floor. After a few minutes Blair broke the silence. "Christina..."

"Chris," she glanced up for a split second, "just Chris, please."

"Sure," Blair agreed amicably. " What can I do for you, Chris?"

Chris sighed and looked to the door as she contemplated an escape. She couldn't believe she was here with him now. Her mouth was so dry and she had to swallow hard to remove the lump from her throat before she could even speak. 

"I just wanted to say again how sorry I am for yesterday. I don't know what happened. I was going to ask a question and then..." she finally raised her head and was horrified to see there was a bruise...

/on that lovely cheek. She slid gracefully out of her chair and around the desk to touch the blemish she had put on the perfect skin. She drew closer still and whispered "I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never hurt you."

Blair turned his incredible blue eyes to her as she brushed away his hair and bent to kiss the offending mark. His skin was warm and he smelled so clean. "It hurts here, too," he uttered softly, placing a finger on his full lower lip. 

She bent and met his lush mouth with her own. He deepened the kiss and she felt lost in his sudden embrace.../

"Chris? Chris, are you all right?" Blair leaned over the desk to touch her shoulder.  When he made contact she jumped and squealed, knocking a good sized pile of files off the desk and into the floor.

"I'm sorry!" she cried out. "I'm so sorry!" She fell to her knees and began to rapidly gather an armful of the scattered folders.

"Chris, calm down." Blair came around the desk and unburdened her arms of the papers, dropping them back onto the desk in a heap. Gently he tugged her by the shoulders into a chair. 

"It's okay, I'll get it later. Believe me, it happens all the time. What's wrong, Chris? Talk to me. Maybe I can help." He sat in the chair next to her and studied her intensely with a worried look on his face.

Chris sat silently for a minute, mortified and embarrassed not only that she'd lost herself in a fantasy when she had the real thing within arms reach but that she'd made a fool out of herself by trashing his office. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her arms. It made her shiver. 

Chancing a look up she was captured by the depths of those beautiful eyes and was physically unable to look away. He was talking again, but she couldn't quite hear his voice over the pounding of her own thundering pulse. When he handed her a tissue she realized tears were streaming down her face. He was holding her hand and speaking to her softly in the most compassionate tone she had ever heard. 

She had taken one look at him six months ago and thought she had fallen for him completely. But now her heart swelled with so much love she thought it would burst. She would be his forever. And soon he would be hers, too.

"I have to go," she said suddenly as she stood up. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

"Chris, wait." Blair rounded his desk again and began to rifle through the top drawer. "I want you to talk to someone about the way you're feeling, please?" 

He pulled out one of his business cards and jotted down the number to the student counseling office. After a slight pause he also wrote down his cell phone number and the number to his home. He handed her the card. "You can call me anytime. Okay?"

Her hands shook as she glanced down at the card. He was even more wonderful than she thought. So caring, even for her. She never dreamed he would give her the time of day, especially after she'd hit him. She wouldn't have done it if that prissy little bitch hadn't come in and gotten in the way. She had plans for her, too.

"Thanks," she mumbled at last and turned to leave, accidentally dropping the card.

"Oops," Blair teased as he bent down to retrieve it. She retreated a step back as if giving him some room and with one swift, smooth motion emptied the vial palmed in her hand into the cup of coffee on the desk.

"Thanks again, Mr. Sandburg, you made me feel a lot better."

Blair nodded thoughtfully and smiled slightly as he again handed her the card. "I mean it. Call me if you want to talk."

Chris returned a very small smile as she walked out the door. Inside, she was bursting with joy. This was going to be so much easier than she had thought.

Blair grabbed the phone and dialed administration as soon as Chris shut the door behind her. Waiting for an answer he picked up his quickly cooling coffee and drained the cup, tossing the empty container in the trash when he finished.

"Cecelia, hi. It's Blair Sandburg...Fine, how are you?...How are the grandkids?... That's great...Listen, I need a favor...Really? ANYTHING!? Well, we'll have to talk about that later..." Blair flirted as the older woman pretended to swoon on the other end of the line. 

"I need to see a student's transcript, Christina McKnight...Oh, you heard about that... Yeah...No...I'm fine, she's the one I'm worried about...Cel, I think this kid is in trouble... Yeah, I'd like to help, but I don't know where to start...You will? You are a sweetheart... Hey, man, age is just a number. You say the word and I'm yours...Thanks, Cel...'kay, bye."

Blair's smile faded as he hung up the phone. Suddenly he didn't feel so good and the rapidly spinning room didn't help. I'm gonna have to stop skipping lunch, he thought absently. Staggering over to the cot against the wall he lowered himself onto it. He drew one leg up but didn't have the energy to bring the other one, so he left one foot on the floor. He just needed to rest for a minute he decided, seconds before the lights went out.

Blair had seemed fine at breakfast, but he never showed up at the station after lunch as his usual routine. Jim scratched his head and grinned. He knew Blair thought he had really told Simon he got punched out by a girl. If there was one thing Blair was good at it was avoidance. He might not show up in the bullpen at all until the bruise was gone. 

Anyway Sandburg hadn't actually said he was coming in today and he had been working on something late into the night. There wasn't anything to worry about, was there? 

Jim sighed and gave into his urge to touch base with his partner and make sure things were okay between them. He dialed Blair's office but got no answer. Voice mail picked up right away on his cell phone, meaning it was either turned off or the batteries were dead. Then the answering machine picked up at the loft and Jim hung up without leaving a message. How convenient, Jim mused feeling like he was definitely being avoided.

He stood and stretched, nonchalantly glancing at his watch. Quarter to five close enough. He grabbed his jacket and ducked out of the bullpen. It wasn't that much farther to swing by Rainier on his way home, Jim reasoned to himself in the elevator. But it was rush hour. If he went by the university Blair would probably beat him home. Getting into the truck he decided it would be better just to go straight to the loft. Apparently the truck had other ideas because it turned toward campus as it pulled into the street.

Chris opened the door and peeked in. She had waited around the corner for almost ten minutes and was sure Mr. Sandburg would be out if he had taken even a sip of his coffee. Mr. Sandburg...Blair was resting on the cot behind the shelves of artifacts. A Styrofoam cup was at the top of the trash can. 

She locked the door and crossed the room picking up the cup and sticking it into her large handbag before locating Blair's backpack on the floor by his desk and pulling it out to rifled through it. She found his keys and one by one pressed them into the little wax molds she had brought with her. After making templates of all his keys she dug deeper in his pack. Finding nothing else of interest she kicked it back under the desk and tossed the keys on top. She didn't need his cell phone number because he had very thoughtfully already given it to her.

Taking only a second to catch her breath, she hurried over to the cot and stood transfixed by the drugged man. When she could function again she ran her fingers though his hair, reverently sweeping it out of his face. In sleep he looked so much younger. Touching his face with her fingertips she bent to clumsily kiss his soft, warm lips. But he didn't respond as she had so often dreamed he would. Of course not. She'd put enough chloral hydrate in his coffee to knock out a horse, and he ingested the whole cup instead of the sip or two she had estimated it would take to knock him out. 

Concerned for a moment she may have given him too much, she thought briefly about calling 911. What if he stopped breathing? What if he died? His breathing was shallow, but regular, and his skin was warm to the touch. She picked up a finger and gently mashed down on the nail bed. The blanching quickly gave way to pink as the capillary refill was almost immediate. 

Chris relaxed for a moment relieved that he didn't appear overdosed, then turned her attention to his body. She loved to watch him move. She watched him every day except for Saturdays and Sundays which were hell. She watched him in class, in the hall, in the parking lot... but there always seemed to be someone else around. Someone to keep him from noticing her. It wasn't his fault.

She knew every inch of his car and had even followed him twice. He had gone to the police headquarters both times so she hadn't actually been able to follow him home. That's when she decided to drug him and go through his wallet to find out where he lived.

But first... she undid the buttons on his loose flannel shirt, untucked his T-shirt and slid her hands up in under it. This wasn't part of the plan, but it felt so good she was practically giddy. She exhaled sharply as her hands touched his chest. It was covered in thick, curly hair just like she had imagined it would be, but she startled with delight when she discovered his nipple ring. She'd had no idea about that. She pulled the shirt up to exam it.

When someone knocked at the door Chris startled, then froze, terrified she'd been caught. The knock sounded again and a manila folder was slipped under the door. Footsteps echoed away from the door and down the hall. 

Hastily pulling Blair's shirt back down, she quickly went through his pockets. Finding his wallet in his back pocket she went through it. She quickly wrote down his address and birthday from his driver's license then copied down his social security number before searching for anything else of interest. 

She stopped when she found his police observer ID. That explained the trips to the police station. She hadn't known, even though it was probability common knowledge around campus. Chris didn't really talk to people very well, especially to get information out of them. She knew all she needed to know about Mr. Sandburg. He was smart, funny, sweet and gorgeous. And soon to be hers.

Chris put his wallet back and smoothed his T-shirt down, but didn't attempt to retuck it. She fastened a couple of buttons on his shirt, then glanced down at his jeans. She would have to wait before making any more discoveries. She kissed him once more, savoring the taste of his lips, then shouldered her bag and headed for the door. She cracked it open and listened, when the corridor was clear she ducked out of Blair's office and down the hall.

Blair's Volvo was still in the parking lot, so Jim knew he was on campus somewhere. He decided to try his office first and headed for Hargrove Hall. He picked up his guide's heartbeat almost as soon as he entered the building. It seemed to be very slow, almost as if Sandburg was...asleep. Jim tapped on the office door, when he got no answer he let himself in.

"Chief," he called as he spotted his missing roommate asleep on the cot. "Come on sleeping beauty, it's time to get up." Jim reached down and smacked his friend lightly on the un-bruised side of his face, but there was no response. Not even a little one. 

He removed Sandburg's glasses and slipped them into his own pocket before slapping his cheek again a little harder. "Blair, I know you were up all night, but this is ridiculous," Jim said worriedly as his efforts to rouse the sleeping man failed.  

"I know you don't want to wake up in the hospital, but I'm two seconds away from calling an ambulance," Jim threatened, concern evident in his voice. 

Realizing this was much more than a simple nap Jim rubbed his knuckles hard across Blair's sternum as he had seen a doctor do once to an overdosed patient. He was rewarded with a low moan and slowly blinking eyes as Blair tried to move away from the painful pressure.

"Jim...what's wrong. What are you doing here?" Blair mumbled, somewhat confused. "Did you leave work early?" 

Jim eased him up to a sitting position, all the while rubbing and patting his arms to stimulate him. "Yeah, a whole fifteen minutes." Jim replied dryly.

"What! What time is it?"

Jim glanced at his watch even though he was fairly certain of the time. "Ten after six," he answered matter-of-factly.

"No way, man. The last thing I remember it wasn't even two o'clock. Don't tell me I slept all afternoon." Blair pulled Jim's watch over to his face to glare at it himself.

"I guess all these late nights are finally catching up with you, buddy. Either that or you're just plain getting old."

"What are you doing here?" Blair asked again, not remembering if Jim had actually answered the question. He rubbed groggily at his face with both hands.

"You didn't come by the station today and I couldn't reach you on the phone, so I decided to drop by..." Jim explained vaguely, hoping not to have to be too specific.

"Oh, I must have slept though the phone ringing." Blair was too sleepy to even think about why Jim would show up unexpectedly so late on a Friday afternoon.

"You done here? I don't think you're in any shape to drive," Jim observed, waiting for the argument to commence.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll ride with you and get the car later." Blair groaned and closed his eyes, making no further attempt to get up.

Jim frowned and placed a hand on his guide's forehead checking for fever. "That wasn't exactly the answer I was expecting, but I'm glad you agree. Are you all right?"

Before he could answer, Blair drifted back to sleep sitting on the cot with his head against the wall. Jim bent and shook him awake. "Blair? What's going on? This is more than just staying up too late."

"Hmmm?" Blair blinked his eyes open again. "Maybe my blood sugar's low. I've got to stop skipping lunch. I guess I haven't had anything but coffee since breakfast."

"Breakfast? You didn't have breakfast either, remember? You were late again and took two bites of egg and a piece of toast," Jim admonished pulling Blair up by the nearest arm.

"Yeah?" Blair stumbled toward his desk and landed in his chair. He nearly fell on his head when he reached down to get his backpack but Jim stopped his descent and retrieved the bag for him. 

Jim tilted Blair's head back and raised each drooping eyelid slightly with his thumb. "Your pupils are dilated a little," he said in a careful voice. He knew Blair was usually against taking drugs, legal or otherwise. Still he didn't remember dilated pupils being a sign of low blood sugar. "I think we need to swing by the ER on the way home."

"Oh, no. There's nothing wrong with me a little food won't cure. Let's go home." Blair stood up without falling to prove his point. "We can pick up some takeout on the way. Then if you're still not happy we'll talk about the ER."

Relieved to see his partner back to his usual argumentative self, Jim relaxed a little. "Fine. Food first, then hospital."

"I said we'll talk about the hospital." Blair grinned a lopsided grin. "Hey, what's that? It must have been slid under the door while I was asleep." Blair said pointing to the folder on the floor.

Jim took the hint and picked it up. "It says 'Christina McKnight'."

Blair nodded and held out his hand for the folder. When Jim handed it to him he stuck it into his pack without looking at it. "I was waiting for that."

Jim narrowed his eyes. "You didn't even look at it."

"Yeah, well, my eyes aren't focusing too well right now."

"ER."

"Food."

Jim pointed a finger at him. "If you don't feel 100% better after eating, we are going to the hospital." 

He opened the door and let Blair out into the hall as he locked the door. He slipped his arm over the shorter man's shoulders to help support him and was surprised not to be pushed away. Instead Blair put his arm around Jim's waist and held onto his jacket. His gait was unsteady, worse than Jim thought it would be. He frowned down at his friend. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you were drunk," Jim replied conversationally as they made their way along the hall.

"Jim, you are a worse nagger than a wife could ever be," Blair laughed.

Jim laughed himself as he pushed the outside door open. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you fed and put you to bed."

"Yes, dear." Blair grinned as Jim helped him navigate the steps. "Take me home."

Although buoyant with adrenaline and nearly spastic with the memory of Blair's warm, pliant skin, Chris worried for the rest of the afternoon. If the man she loved died, she didn't think she could go on. After much soul searching she gathered her courage and headed back to Mr. Sandburg's office to make sure he was okay, but crossing the courtyard to Hargrove Hall she caught sight of him coming down the steps leaning heavily on another larger man. 

She sat on the edge of the fountain and watched, recognizing the other man as the one who drove the blue and white truck she had seen Mr. Sandburg get into at least three or four times. They were always smiling and laughing when they were together and Chris hated the interloper with a passion. Instead of relief that her soon to be lover was alive and well, she felt a burning pang of jealousy.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you fed and put you to bed" the big man said affectionately.

"Yes, dear. Take me home."

Chris cringed at the familiar way they bantered. They knew each other pretty well she surmised. She dropped her head as they passed, but neither of them took notice of her. As a child she had thought she was invisible sometimes because of the way she was so easily ignored. Now of course, she knew that was ridiculous, but somehow... somehow she wasn't quite so sure.

Blair slept all the way home. Even when they stopped at Wonder Burger he never responded to Jim's "What do you want to eat, Chief? If you don't answer I'll get you a bacon cheeseburger."

When they reached the loft Jim parked near the door in case he had to carry his partner inside. Fortunately Blair responded to gentle verbal threats this time and somehow managed to get out of the truck with his backpack. Jim steered him through the door, then into the elevator, knowing Blair would never make it up the stairs.

"Wonder Burger?" Blair asked with a sniff when they were deposited on the third floor.

"I couldn't get you to answer me in the truck," Jim provided as he unlocked the door and pushed his partner inside. Blair headed straight for the couch, dropped his pack and laid down. 

"Oh no you don't," Jim called after him as he grabbed a beer for himself and a bottle of water for Blair. "You're going to eat and then we'll see how you feel."

"I'm not really hungry," Blair begged off, ineffectually trying to pull the afghan down from the back of the couch to cover his legs.

"Come on, Chief, eat." Jim practically sat on the anthropologist, forcing him to pull his legs back and sit up. 

Blair ate the bacon cheeseburger without complaint or comment. He drank some of the water and made a show of not being sleepy as he hunted for the remote to the TV. Jim didn't smile as he picked it up off the coffee table right in front of him and handed it to his addled partner and watched the younger man as he flipped through the channels. Blair finally left it on a ball game and settled back to blink owlishly at the screen.

"How do you feel?" Jim asked at last.

"I'm fine, Jim." Blair slid his backpack a little closer and pulled out the manila folder on top. He opened it and began to read as he absently patted his shirt for his glasses. Jim took them out of his own pocket and handed them over to a mumbled thanks.

Jim settled back onto the couch and took a long drink of his beer as he turned to watch the game as Blair seemed more interested in the folder than in going to sleep at the moment. Every now and then he would sneak a peek, but he continuously monitored Blair's heart rate and breathing even as he watched the game. He glanced up sharply when the beat picked up a bit. 

"What's wrong?" Jim asked.

Blair looked at Jim and lowered the folder. "This is Christina McKnight's student file," he said as if that explained everything.

"So?" Jim prompted, trying to place the name, other than it was written on the folder.

"She's the student who hit me. She came to see me today. Jim, this kid's in trouble. I don't know what to do."

"What kind of trouble?"

"I think she's got some serious issues." Blair removed his glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes.  "I wouldn't swear she's not suicidal. She was a mess in my office."

"What did you do?"

Blair sighed, "I tried to get her to open up to me but she just cried. I gave her the student counseling office's number and told her to call me if she needed to talk. Then I called a friend of mine in Admin and requested a copy of her transcript."

"Can you do that?" Jim asked with upraised eyebrows.

"I got it didn't I?" Blair answered evasively with an almost innocent smile.

Jim shook his head. "Okay, what does it say that has you so pensive?"

"Well, she was a chemistry major with an art minor on a track and field scholarship. Suddenly she dropped chemistry and started over in anthropology. She was removed from the track team and lost her scholarship because she stopped showing up to practice last semester. Then she dropped all of her classes about half way through this semester except for my Ancient Civilizations class." 

Blair absently pushed back a lock of hair before he finished. "She's auditing Anthro 101 again this semester, even though she passed it with an A the first time. In fact she's been in every one of my classes, either officially or unofficially for the last two semesters."

"Didn't you ever notice she was always there?" Jim asked.

"Jim, some of my classes have sixty students. Students who audit don't turn in papers they just come to the lectures. Believe it or not I just never realized she was always there." Blair closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch. He rubbed his eyes again and sighed.

"What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. What are the chances she just really loves Anthro101?"

Jim looked doubtful for a moment. "What are the chances she drugged you?" he asked seriously.

"Whoa, big guy. I think your imagination is running away with you here."

"I don't know, Chief. Apparently the girl has more than a little crush on you," he said noting with amusement the deep blush that crept up Sandburg's face. "Is she capable of stalking you?"

Blair shook his head vigorously. "I don't think so. She's really shy and quiet. She needs help though, I'll admit that."

Jim sighed heavily. "There's nothing we can do about it tonight. Why don't you go on to bed."

"That's the best idea I've heard all week," Blair agreed quickly, hoisting himself up to pad off to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "Night, Jim," he murmured when he passed back through the living room on his way to bed. 

Jim gave him a minute to get settled before moving to the French doors to check on his progress.  Just as he'd thought, Sandburg was already out like a light.

Chris finished her sketch and hung it on the wall with the others. This one was of Mr. Sandburg asleep on the cot in his office. His eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. Blair, she corrected herself. Now she could call him Blair. It was almost time for her to go to work, so she made herself a sandwich and sat down to eat it in front of the wall papered with pencil sketches of him. She had almost bought a digital camera to follow him around with, but had talked herself out of it, even though she could easily afford one now. She preferred her own images of the man, they were somehow more spiritual, more pure. And they were very good. A hundred pair of those soulful eyes stared back at her as she ate.

After finishing her sandwich she cleaned out her bag and found the cup he had been drinking out of and placed it on her dresser with her other little trophies. She had all of her papers from his class that he had written on, as well as cassettes of all of his lectures. Sometimes she played them all night pretending he was talking to her. It didn't matter what he said, only the tone and timbre of his voice. 

She even had several hairs from his head that hadn't been too hard to get. Usually she'd just check his jacket when it was hung by the door in the lecture hall and look for loose hairs from his precious head. Whenever she found one she would hang around until no one was looking and grab it on her way out the door. No one ever noticed her anyway. It had taken her months to figure out which shampoo he used, and when she did she switched to it immediately. She kept a bottle of it on her dresser to sniff from time to time.

Soon she would call and he would come. She hadn't actually believed he would come willingly until she went to his office. For once her shyness and tied tongue had worked in her favor. He probably thought she was on the edge after the way she acted. And the tears! She never would have thought of tears or been able to pull them off even if she had. It just happened. It had to be fate. A few more days and everything would fall into place. There were only a couple loose ends to wrap up and then he would be hers.

The cabin was remodeled and stocked and ready for inhabitants. She had paid cash for it only a month ago. There wasn't much land, but it was remote. Working in a meth lab wasn't something she thought she could ever do, but the money was unbelievable. She had the skills, and she certainly didn't care about the unnamed, faceless junkies who would use the stuff. She did wonder what Blair would think of her, though, but she was sure he would understand in the long run. It was the only way they could be together and that's all that really mattered.

An unexpected bonus of the job was working with people who could provide access to things she might not otherwise be able to get. Like certain medications and copies of keys. The people she worked for liked her; she followed directions to the letter and she wasn't greedy. They appreciated her and wanted to keep her happy so they were more than willing to help her out in little ways. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, even if it could get a little scary. The money was nice and the fringe benefits were excellent.

Jim got up early and made coffee. When the smell didn't bring the caffeine addict stumbling into the kitchen he went in to check on him. Blair lay on his back snoring quietly so Jim backed out of the room with a tiny smile. Deciding the little guy deserved a break, he let him sleep. He made breakfast and ate as he read the paper, hoping Blair would be up before he left, or maybe even come with him to the station for a while even though it was the weekend. Giving up on his partner he wrote a note before leaving and headed out the door.

As he turned to lock it he smelled Blair's shampoo. Or rather Blair's shampoo on someone else's head. A young woman with short blonde hair exited the elevator and stopped when she spotted him, staring with something akin to a deer in the headlights look. Jim turned towards her and waited expectantly. She looked around before slowly heading his way.

"Hello," Jim smiled pleasantly. "Can I help you find something?"

"I'm looking for Blair Sandburg's apartment," the woman replied very softly as she looked at the floor. "I'm his girlfriend," she added a little louder with a touch of defiance.

"Oh, I'm Jim, Blair's roommate," Jim said. "I let him sleep in this morning. You must be Kimberly. He's mentioned you several times."  Jim studied her carefully. She didn't seem like Blair's usual type and she flinched just the tiniest bit when he called her by name.

"It's nice to meet you. Do you think it would be all right if I go in and wake him up, if you know what I mean." She looked up with a seductive smirk and met Jim's eyes this time.

"Sure, I guess. He's a big boy. Go easy on him, he had a rough day yesterday." Jim pushed the door open and allowed the woman to go inside. He fought the urge to go in with her, just to make sure it really was okay with Blair but she pulled the door shut in his face. He didn't listen in deference to his friend's privacy and he felt like a fool standing in the hall not listening so he headed to the elevator with a sigh.

Chris held her breath until she was sure the roommate had walked away. She hadn't even considered that Blair might not live alone. She looked around taking everything in as she followed the sounds of easy snoring. She thought the drug might have some residual effect since he had taken such a heavy dose. While the chloral hydrate would probably be out of his system, her own added ingredients were likely to linger. 

She was risking everything coming here, but she couldn't help herself. Her excitement this morning had gotten the best of her and she'd decided to try for a little more recon. The game itself had become more arousing than she had anticipated, still she couldn't loose sight of her ultimate goal. 

Finding herself at his bedside, she tried to gauge the depth of his sleep. Too shallow she judged by the way he shifted easily. It wouldn't do to have him wake up while she was checking him out. Instead she decided she would drug them both and come back later with her new pass key. She thought she might even check out the roommate, too, just for laughs. After all, Blair would be the only man in her life from now on. His 'girlfriend' Kimberly had already had a little accident, compliments of Chris' boss.

Running her hand along the bed she stopped to admire the eclectic contents of the room, touching everything. She moved to the kitchen and then the living room, taking in the sights. On the coffee table she found a file with her name on it. He really did love her, too. It was so sweet, he was trying to find out all about her without her knowing. She almost went to wake him up when the phone rang. She dropped breathlessly to the floor behind the couch and waited.

Blair woke easily when the phone rang. He glanced at his clock as he sprang from the bed. Jim had let him sleep in, it was almost 10 a.m. 

"Hello...Yes that's me...What?... How?... I'll be right there. Jim," he called as he hung up the phone before picking up a note off the table. He read it and put it back down as he trotted back to his room.

A few minutes later he hurried back through and grabbed a jacket as he rushed out of the loft without leaving a note of his own.

As soon as the door closed Chris was on her feet. She went to the table and read the note that she had missed the first time through. 

Blair,
Went to the station for a while. Be back this afternoon. Eat something or else.
Your nagging wife,
Jim

Although it sounded like a joke, Blair hadn't laughed when he read it. In fact, he'd seemed upset as he left. She crumpled the paper deliberately and tossed it away as she made her way to the bathroom to finish her mission. 

She examined the toothbrushes and dipped them one at a time into the small brown bottle in her hand, allowing each to dry before returning it to the holder. It was very concentrated and moisture would activate the sedative. She went back into Blair's room and gathered a few things he might need. On the way out she tried the new keys until one slid easily into the lock. It worked very well.

Blair paid the cab driver and entered the hospital near the emergency room. He waited patiently at the information desk for the hospital volunteer manning the phones to finish her conversation and hang up. "Hello, dear. How can I help you?" The elderly woman smiled sweetly at him.

He managed a smile himself. "I was called about Kimberly Ryan. Is she still in the ER?"

The woman ran gnarled but nimble fingers over the keyboard and glanced at the monitor screen. "No sir, she's already been moved to the intensive care unit. I can give you directions."

Blair was already moving toward the elevator bank in the lobby. "That's okay, I know the way. Thank you."

"You're welcome, I hope everything works out for you," she called to Blair's retreating back. "Such a lovely boy," she sighed as he darted into the elevator seconds before the doors closed.

Jim already knew Blair wasn't home. Somewhere along the way he had picked up the habit of listening for his partner between the elevator and the door. The familiar heart beat was not in evidence this evening. Jim hadn't planned on spending all day at the station, but he had ending up as backup on a bust on one of Brown's investigations. When he finally had time to call, Blair hadn't answered. 

Jim let himself into the loft and scanned the room for a note from his MIA roommate. The only note he found was his own from that morning, crumpled up on the floor. As he contemplated possible reasons for the sorry state of the note he noticed the flashing red light on the answering machine. He crossed the room and punched the button.

"Hey, Jim, it's me. A friend of mine was in a wreck and is in pretty bad shape. The hospital found my card in her purse so they called me. I've been trying to reach the family but haven't had much luck yet. Don't wait dinner for me, I'll probably be late. See you later."

A little after eleven o'clock Jim heard the unmistakable sounds of Blair's classic pull up outside. One problem solved, he wouldn't have to take Blair to get his car. He grinned to himself as he got up and put Blair's dinner in the microwave. If the boy hadn't eaten today Jim swore he would beat him to a pulp. The oven dinged just as the door opened and Jim steered his partner to the table. "Did you eat today?" Jim asked.

"I'm fine, Jim, and you?"

"Don't change the subject. Did you or did you not put something of substance in your stomach today?" Jim sat the steaming plate of already cut up pork chops and new potatoes in front of the now smiling young man.

"I take back what I said, man. You're a great wife." Blair picked up the offered fork and dug in. Jim poured a glass of milk and sat it in front of him. "Milk? I take it back again. You're a great mother," he teased.

"Never mind. Don't tell me if you ate or not. I'd probably get mad anyway."

"I ate, Jim." Blair grinned wickedly. "I promise. The nurses in the ICU kind of took care of me. They're almost as bad as you are."

"How's your friend?" Jim asked solemnly.

"They'll know more when she wakes up. If she wakes up. At least I finally found her mom. She got there about an hour ago." Blair stopped eating and looked at his plate.

"Don't make me feed you, Junior." Jim bounced his balled up fist lightly against the top of his friend's head which elicited a small smile. 

Satisfied with that, Jim sat down and filled Blair in on the bust that had gone down late that afternoon, mostly just to keep Sandburg at the table long enough to finish his dinner. After Blair ate and Jim decided he really was okay, Jim excused himself and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He had tried to be casual about the whole thing, but he knew Blair was well aware he had waited up for him. He laughed to himself. He really was a great mom.

Jim picked up his toothbrush and held it under the cool stream of water for a moment before smearing it with too much toothpaste and putting it in his mouth. The bitterness was overwhelming causing him to gag and spit it out. He grabbed the tube and examined it angrily. It was the same tube he and Sandburg had been using for at least a month. He continued to rinse his mouth for several minutes, but the taste was persistent. Fearing the coming headache, he put the toothbrush away and headed for the stairs. "I'm going to bed, Chief." He said as he passed Blair in the living room.

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning." Blair continued into the bathroom and splashed water onto his face. It had turned out to be a long day. He had some more papers to grade, but they could wait. He just wanted to turn in. Maybe he would be able to sleep. His mind's eye could still see Kimberly's unmoving body in the ICU bed. She had come off the ventilator late this evening and seemed to be doing well. Only time would tell, Blair thought as he reached for his toothbrush.

Jim's anguished cry echoed through the loft. Blair dropped his toothbrush into the sink and bolted up the stairs. Jim lay on his bed clutching his head writhing in agony.

"Jim...what's wrong?" Blair asked very quietly recognizing the signs of a sensory spike. He placed his hand on the larger man's abdomen with gentle pressure. "Find the dials, Jim. Turn them down one at a time. Come on, Jim, you can do it."

"I can't! I tried! Help me, Chief, it hurts! Make it stop!" Jim pleaded, becoming more agitated with each passing second. 

Suddenly he sat up and ripped his T-shirt off over his head. The texture had become too rough to bear. His head felt as if it were caving in. The light from the small lamp downstairs was abusive against his tightly closed eye lids. Somewhere in the distance a firetruck, along with a chorus of dogs, blared against his eardrums. Every sound in the building and street below combined in a cacophony of noise pushing his sanity to the edge. His tongue burned with the bitterness of the toothpaste, and he was overcome with the smell of his roommate's usually pleasant smelling shampoo. Every nerve ending in his body screamed for relief.

"Jim, you have to calm down. Come on, listen to my voice. Nothing but my voice. Block out everything else." Blair whispered softly, trying to break through to his Sentinel. 

He pulled Jim's hand up to rest over his heart, but the detective screamed and yanked his hand back as if he had been burned. Blair repeated the earlier action of his friend and removed his own undershirt. He very gently eased Jim's hand over to burrow in the soft hairs of his chest. Jim responded to the skin to skin contact with his Guide and seemed to settle down enough to listen.

"Good, Jim, very good. Now feel my heartbeat. I want you to listen to it and feel it at the same time. Use both senses, that should keep you from zoning. Concentrate on my heartbeat. There's nothing else in the world. That's it. Hear it. Feel it..."

Jim whimpered slightly. He pressed his fingers harder against his friend's chest and drank in the rhythm through his hand. As the familiar sound and the pulse beneath his palm flowed together as one, the pain and confusion melted away. There was peace and serenity in this warm world, there was only the heartbeat. He lost himself in it. The painful stimuli ceased to exist. He felt rather than heard Sandburg's gentle commands, although he no longer needed them. He could stay forever in the comfort and safety of the beating heart of his Guide. Slowly he felt himself drawn back, against his will to the real world.

"Okay, Jim. It's safe to come back," Blair intoned, now speaking in his normal voice. "You got it under control. Good job, man." Blair pulled the hand gently away from his chest.

"Don't leave me, Chief," Jim grabbed a surprised Blair into a fierce hug with one arm and returned his other hand to the still warm spot on Blair's breast bone. Both men shook with the ragged breaths Jim struggled to calm.

"I won't leave. I'm not going anywhere," Blair soothed, stroking his hands over the shaking man's back. "You need to rest," he said after long moments of comforting his friend. "Here, let's lay down and get more comfortable." 

Blair lowered himself to the mattress and Jim followed suit, his hand never wavered from it's furry berth. Blair managed to get the comforter over them without breaking contact. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Jim closed his eyes as he turned on his side to face Blair. "Weak," he answered at last. "Blair...how did you do that?" His voice sounded husky and raw, but was tinged with amazement that the sensory assault had abated. "That was the worst one I've ever had. It was all my senses out of control all at once..."

"Shhh, you need to rest. We'll talk about it tomorrow. We need to find out what caused it, okay? Tomorrow." They lay quietly for a few minutes. Finally Blair asked, "Do you still want me to stay?"

Jim once again relaxed into the sound and felt the soft lub-dub. He turned down all his dials and concentrated on his partner. He slid his left arm under Blair's pillow and snuggled closer to him. "Don't leave. I need you," he whispered as he drifted off to sleep. 

Blair blinked in surprise. Although there were times when he thought it might be true, Jim had never actually admitted he really needed him. Somehow those words validated him. He felt like he screwed up a lot, but sometimes he got it right. He smiled as he snuggled deeper into his pillow and closed his eyes.

Chris let herself in fairly confidently. After all, everyone brushed their teeth before going to bed, right? Blair had come home earlier in his own car then most of the lights in the apartment had gone off before midnight. She had waited a while just to be sure because she had once overheard Blair tell someone that he kept rather late hours most of the time. 

There was a lamp on in the living room so she returned her flashlight to her bag and made her way to Blair's room, only to find the bed empty. He wasn't on the couch either, and the bathroom was dark and the door open. She looked up at the loft overhead. Cautiously she climbed the stairs.

As she reached the top she was stunned. Anger surged through her as her eyes adjusted to the darker area. Enough moonlight streamed into the skylight to illuminate the two men sleeping in the bed. They both lay on their sides facing her, sharing a pillow. The larger man held Blair tenderly against his chest, his nose buried in Blair's hair. They slept peacefully, bare arms and chests above the covers, warmed by shared body heat, safe, or so they thought.

Chris recognized Blair's roommate as one of the cops from the bust at the meth lab. He hadn't seen her, though, she was sure of it. But he mocked her now by his proximity to her loved one. How dare he cuddle her mate so intimately. Without thinking Chris picked up the gun from the bedside table and pointed it within inches of the beautiful, cheating face of her would be lover. If she couldn't have him, no one could. Especially not another man. She pulled the trigger.

In a split second Chris regretted her decision. For once things went her way and the gun didn't go off. Of course she didn't really know how to use a gun other than point and shoot, and that's what she had done. In a moment of grief and anger she had tried to kill the one man in the world she would ever love, and all over this overgrown boy scout next to him in the bed. 

Blair was confused. He needed help. He needed her to help him. Once again fate had stepped in, for her true love had not died before she could reach out to him. She studied the other man, trying to see the attraction. He was handsome and powerful and probably used and abused Blair the same way all the men she had ever known had treated her. He would have to be punished, but not yet. She would take away his precious Blair. That would be punishment enough. Tomorrow. She would punish him tomorrow.

Blair opened his eyes and stretched in the faint morning light, becoming simultaneously aware of three things. One; he was not in his own bed, two; he wasn't wearing very many clothes, and three; strong male arms circled him. His pulse shot up in a momentary panic until the events of the night before solidified into conscious memory. Jim had asked him to stay. He snuggled back against his partner and closed his eyes.

"Bad dream, Chief?" Jim asked in a soft, sleepy voice, not releasing his hold on him just yet.

"No, I'm fine," Blair murmured drifting back to sleep, unconsciously proving his point.

Now fully awake, Jim took the opportunity to hold his friend. He knew Blair had his limits; he balked whenever Jim tried to mother him too much. But Jim took his duties as blessed protector seriously, and if anybody needed one it was Sandburg. 

He didn't show it often, but he loved Blair. Perfectly content, he kissed the top of his wayward guide's head and closed his eyes. He wanted this to last just a little bit longer, sure it wouldn't happen again, at least not without some major trauma to precede it. He and Blair could both do without any more of that in their lives for a while. 

The next time Blair opened his eyes the sun was streaming through the skylight and he was alone in Jim's bed. Two mornings in a row Jim had let him sleep. That must be some kind of record. He could hear movement in the kitchen and the smell of coffee and sausage hastened his wakening. He found his undershirt on the floor and slipped it over his head, feeling a little modest. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he lumbered down the stairs.

"Jim, what happened last night?" he asked as he closed in on his friend in the kitchen.

Jim stopped what he was doing and turned around. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well something set off that sensory spike. We have to make sure it doesn't happen again. What if it happened at work? Or what if I wasn't there? Man, the consequences could be deadly. You know what it reminded me of?"

Jim chuckled and turned back to the pancakes he was flipping. Blair was in full scientist mode this morning. Let the tests begin. "What did it remind you of?" he asked.

"The cold medicine on the train. Remember?"

"Yeah," Jim nodded as he thought about it, "it was similar, but this was a lot worse. At least I could still function on the train."

"Barely," Blair laughed, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Do you remember anything out of the ordinary last night?"

"The toothpaste tasted funny," Jim supplied without pause. "Did you notice it?"

"No. I didn't get quite that far last night." Blair went in to the bathroom and noticed that both toothbrushes and the toothpaste were gone. "What did you do with it?" he asked, exiting the bathroom.

Jim pointed to an evidence bag on the counter. "I thought I'd take it to forensics this morning. I bought some more toothbrushes and some baking soda this morning," he added pointing to the other bag on the table.

"Good idea," Blair agreed taking the plate Jim handed him and settling at the table. "Don't even open the bag, man. I don't want you near it." 

Jim smiled as he joined his own blessed protector to eat.

After dressing, Jim put on his holster and checked the safety before sliding his gun into the leather sheath. He trotted down the stairs and picked up the bag with the suspect toothpaste.

Jim waited as Blair hung up the phone. "Everything all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, Kimberly's awake. They think she's gonna be okay. I'll go by and see her this afternoon but right now I've got to start grading papers or I'm never gonna get finished." Blair pulled out a stack of folders and began to arrange them on the table.

Jim nodded. "I'm going to the station and get someone to look at these for me." He indicated the items in the bag by raising it to eye level. "I won't be gone long unless something comes up."

"Be careful. I mean it, don't let them open the bag too close to you. Maybe I'd better come along, you know, just in case." Blair got up and grabbed his backpack.

"Sit down, Sandburg, I don't need a baby-sitter," Jim mock grumbled. He ruffled the curly mop and waved as he passed through the door.

Blair smiled after him. "See you later, Jim." He dropped his bag back on the floor and opened the first folder.

Twenty minutes and three lackluster papers later the cell phone still buried in his pack began to ring. By the third ring he found it and flipped it open. "Hello."

"Mr. Sandburg?" an almost too soft to hear female voice asked.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called. I didn't know what else to do. I just wanted to talk to someone. I'm sorry I bothered you."

"Chris, is that you? Where are you? Are you all right?"

There was a long pause on the other end. "You said I should talk to someone. Can I talk to you?"

"Yes, talk to me, please. I may not have any answers, but I'll listen. Sometimes that helps." Blair was careful to use his teacher's voice with the distraught young woman.

"Can we meet somewhere? I don't want to do this over the phone."

Blair knew meeting a female student could be risky for him academically, but he paused only for a minute. "Okay, but it has to be someplace public."

"I'll be at the park by the bay in half an hour. You don't have to come if you don't want to." She spoke in a flat, emotionless tone.

"I'll be there," Blair promised. "Will you be all right until then?"

"I guess I'll have to be." The line went dead.

Blair called Jim's cell immediately, but got voice mail. When he called the bullpen Detective Rafe's familiar voice came on the line. "Major Crime, can I help you?"

"Rafe, hey, it's Blair. What are you doing at the station on Sunday?"

"That meth lab we took down yesterday has us all buried in paper work. No time like the present," Rafe laughed.

"Yeah, I heard about that. Sorry I missed it, man. Hey, is Jim around?"

"Looks like he's in a closed door meeting with Simon and the assistant DA. Apparently he ruffled somebody's feathers yesterday."

"That's my partner, official feather ruffler," Blair joked before growing more serious. "Will you give him a message for me."

"Sure thing, Sandburg. What's up?"

"I've got a problem with a student. Tell him I went to meet Christina McKnight at the park down by the bay. As a matter of fact, I think it's called Bayside Park. He'll know what it's about."

"I'll tell him as soon as he comes out."

"Thanks, man. Later." Blair dropped the phone and the stack of the papers left to be graded into his backpack. 

He had the feeling he might be waiting for a long time while Chris got a mental evaluation. That was the plan, anyway. Talk her into going to the ER for a hopefully voluntary commitment for her own safety. If it came down to it he would try to have her involuntarily committed and he might need Jim for that. He left in a hurry. He didn't want to leave Chris alone too long in her current state of mind.

Chris hung up the phone and picked up her suitcase before taking one last look around. The place was in shambles. She had packed quickly, taking only the things she really needed. Drawers were open and clothes strewn about. Her dresser shrine was thrown piece by piece against the wall. Shreds of the pictures she had so lovingly drawn of Blair lay scattered around the room where she had destroyed them in a bitter fit of rage. She once again regretted a rash act. Her anger seemed to get the better of her more frequently lately, but it didn't really matter. She didn't need the sketches anymore. Soon she would have the real thing. She had to keep reminding herself it wasn't Blair's fault.

In her mind's eye she saw not Blair's face, but that of his partner. Mocking her. Laughing at her futile attempt to take Blair away from him. He had been there yesterday when she had driven to work only to find it overrun with policemen. She hadn't stopped at the warehouse but had taken advantage of the confusion and driven several blocks down to the empty office. On the way back she had driven right by Jim as he busted one of her co-workers. She'd lowered her head defensively and he had never even noticed her. 

When he pulled into the lot at the park Blair didn't noticed Chris right away. At last he spotted her in a beige Corolla overlooking the bay. She didn't move when he approached the car and open the passenger side door. 

"Chris?"

"Did you ever think you were invisible?" she asked, never taking her eyes from the sun sparkled water.

Blair sat down, but left the door open and his right foot planted firmly on the ground. He studied her with inquisitive eyes, trying to judge her mental status. He hadn't really expected her to open up. Maybe she wasn't as bad off as he had first thought. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Ever since I was little, no one ever noticed me. My mom was depressed. She killed herself when I was really young. My dad drank to get away from her memory and I was left pretty much to myself. It didn't matter if I was good or bad. I never got any response from him. I thought I was invisible."

Feeling a knot form in his throat Blair tried to swallow. His empathetic nature was sometimes a curse. He felt the pain of the lonely little girl. He wanted her to stop, but she seemed to need to get the story out. So he listened. "Go on," he urged.

"I was too shy to make friends. From kindergarten to high school I always ate lunch alone. I was athletic and I loved to run. Running kept me one step ahead of my problems. But you can't run forever, you know."

"I know," Blair answered simply.

"I had an art teacher once who told me to express myself on paper if I couldn't do it with my voice. When I found out that I could, I didn't feel invisible anymore."

"That's great. I didn't know you were an artist."

Chris stayed calm and absently twisted her finger in the short hair at the nape of her neck. "When I turned sixteen I figured out what men wanted. I always gave it to whoever paid any attention to me. Coaches, high school boys, even a couple of my dad's friends.  Most of them used me and walked away. All of them, really. I was kind of bitter for a while."

Blair cleared his throat and looked around, uncomfortable with the direction the story was headed.

"When I got to Rainier," she continued, "I lashed out at anyone who paid attention to me. It seemed like they all just wanted sex. They started to call me names and I just couldn't trust anyone." She stopped talking for a minute and looked Blair straight in the eye. "That's just the way men are, Mr. Sandburg."

"Oh, Chris..." Blair whispered quietly. "Some men are that way. I can't deny it, but not all men are bad."

"I know," she smiled unexpectedly. "I brought you some coffee. It's a mocha latte. You like that don't you?" She picked up a cup carefully by the lid with her finger tips and handed it to him.

The sudden shift in mood and conversation left Blair with an odd feeling of apprehension. He took the cup from Chris and peeled back to top. He smelled it cautiously. "Smells good," he said lowering the cup to rest on his thigh.

Chris pulled another cup from the holder in the seat and sipped it slowly as steam drifted towards the roof of the car. "You're very nice," she said at last, returning her gaze to the water.

"Thanks," Blair said awkwardly. "So are you." 

They sat in silence for several minutes as she drank her coffee. Blair just held his cup as little warning bells went off inside his head. He knew he couldn't hurt the poor kid's already fragile ego by rejecting her, but he certainly couldn't lead her on either. Maybe they could be friends. He decided to change the subject. 

"Why did you go into chemistry instead of art?"

"My father says that art won't put food on the table."

Blair pursed his lips.  "That's not necessarily true," he said.  "It's great to make a living doing something you love."

"Like you do." Chris smiled again as if in on a private joke. She relaxed and laid her head back on the headrest. "The first class I ever heard you teach I could tell that you loved what you were doing. I wanted to be like you."

"But Chris, you didn't have to drop all your chemistry classes. Anthropology isn't for everybody. You have to find your own nitch. I wish you had talked to me before you changed your major." Blair rubbed his hand on his pants, noting the fine sheen of sweat on his palm.

Chris sighed and leisurely glanced over at Blair. "It doesn't matter now," she said. "I'm not going back to school anyway. I've already got what I want."

Blinking back a sudden fit of haziness Blair tried to shake out the impending cobwebs but the action only made him dizzy. He looked down in amazement as Chris pulled on a latex glove and threw his coffee cup out the open door. She turned the glove inside out as she removed it and tossed it out as well.

"The drug was on the cup, silly, not in it." She beamed at him. "We're going to be so happy. You'll see." 

Grabbing his leg under the knee she pulled it into the car before reaching over him and slamming the door. She started the car and backed out quickly, throwing up gravel as she did. Blair fell against the passenger door, unable to keep his head up. Words formed in his head, but never made it to his lips. He was out before they cleared the parking lot.

Rafe hesitated when Ellison stormed out of the captain's office and sat down at his desk. His jaw was clenched and Rafe knew what he had to tell him was probably not going to unclench it. He sighed and pushed himself out of his chair. 

"Jim, Blair called," he said as he handed the scowling detective the note he had written when he took the message.

"Thanks." Jim frowned as he read the note, reaching for the phone. He didn't want Blair off with that girl by himself.

"Jim, there's something else," Rafe continued, laying a open folder on the desk. "That name sounded really familiar." He pointed to the message Jim still held in his hand. "I had read it recently. This is a list of the alleged employees of the meth lab we shut down yesterday. Third from the top - Christina McKnight."

Grabbing the phone Jim dialed Blair's cell number. No answer. He hung up and looked at Rafe. "Thanks, Rafe. I'm headed for the park."

Rafe nodded. "Call if you need anything. I'll try and get an address on the girl."

Jim parked behind the Volvo and got out of the truck. Blair wasn't on the beach and Jim knew if he had gone into the park he would never see him for the trees. He moved closer to the trailhead and focused his hearing for his guide's voice knowing if Blair was awake, more than likely he was talking. He filtered out the ambient noises of the quiet day one by one until all that was left was silence. 

As he walked back to the parking lot Jim picked up the very faint scent of his partner away from the car. He bent down and almost picked up the cup on the ground but another smell caught his attention. It smelled very similar to the way the toothpaste that had sent him into a tailspin the night before had tasted. Putting on a latex glove he slipped the coffee cup into one plastic bag and the discarded glove nearby into another to prevent cross contamination of evidence. 

Every fiber of his being told him that Sandburg had been drugged by this girl, and not for the first time. Hoping he was wrong he dialed the cell phone one more time. It rang inside the Volvo. The car wasn't locked so Jim retrieved his partner's backpack with the still ringing phone in it and locked the doors. He headed back to the station with a sense of dread.

Chris sketched Blair as he slept. She had parked near the cabin so she hadn't had to drag him very far. But by the time they reached the porch he was semi alert and not very cooperative so she had dosed him again. The homecoming she had envisioned did not come to pass. He was still sleeping so she fell back on the thing that had sustained her in the past and drew his picture. She positioned him on the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. He looked comfortable and relaxed except for the hand cuff she had stolen from the loft which secured him to the wire that ran from the bed to the bathroom. It allowed him movement, yet confined him as well, but it wasn't very pretty. She decided to leave it out of the picture.

"There's nothing wrong with the toothpaste, Detective Ellison," Serena began and held up a hand to stem the stream of protest about to spew from him. "It's the toothbrushes. Both of them have a circumferential area of an unknown substance from the bristles to the upper part of the handle as if they were dipped into a liquid."

"What kind of substance?"

"As near as I can tell it's a long acting sedative with some amnesiac properties as well. It's very much like Rohypnol, probably delivered topically."

"The date rape drug." Jim pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the building tension behind his eyes. "What do you mean topical?"

"It's absorbed through skin or mucus membranes. It doesn't have to be ingested."

"What about the evidence from the park?"

"Same stuff on the outside of the cup, none on the inside. Oh, and Blair's fingerprints are on it, but not any others. We did lift a couple of nice ones from inside the glove. The powder makes an excellent medium for prints. We're trying to match them, but, you know..."

"Yeah. I don't think this suspect had a criminal record before this. Thanks, Serena."

"Jim, you'll find Blair. He'll be okay."

"I hope so," Jim sighed as he walked wearily away. "I have a bad feeling."

Chris hung her new drawing over the mantle but it gave her an empty feeling. He was here now, but still so far away because she had kept him drugged, dreading the initial confrontation and what he might say. She felt cold inside so she built a huge fire in the hearth.

When she looked up he was standing in the doorway bathed in the hellish glow of the firelight. His left arm was behind him, tethered to the wire but his right arm hung down to his side. His open shirt revealed his chest and abdomen which heaved with each angry breath. His hair fanned out around his shoulders and drifted gently in the hot draft pouring off the fire. A slight pout turned down the corners of his mouth, but his eyes... his eyes were crystal blue pools of ice. He was pissed.

Chris turned away and lowered her shoulders, closing in on herself. 

"I can still see you, Chris. You're not invisible," Blair snarled before he turned his back on her and walked back into the dark bedroom to sit on the foot of the bed.

Chris followed to stand where she could see him, but wisely stayed beyond his reach. He looked as if he could kill her with his bare hands. She felt as if his coldness would kill her from the inside out. 

"In time you'll learn to love me," she said.

Blair looked up, but his face was cloaked in darkness. "You can't force someone to love you, Chris. It doesn't work that way," he explained firmly.

"He's the reason, isn't he? You already love him, so you can't love me."

"Who? Jim? Jim is my partner," he stated as if it were obvious.

"I know. I saw you in bed together."

"You what?" Blair jumped to his feet and moved on the woman, who scampered back into the small living room until she tripped over the coffee table. "What do you mean you saw us in bed together? How?"

"I have a key to your apartment," Chris confessed as she pulled herself up from the floor. "I let myself in early this morning. You were in bed with him. You were both naked and he was holding you as you slept." Each sentence came out louder until she was screaming at him like she was the loser in a love triangle.

Blair felt his face flush. The experience had ending up being very positive, but it was private. He felt violated that she had seen them together. He counted to ten before he even tried to find his voice.

"I don't really care what you think," he breathed dangerously, "but I feel sorry for you when he finds us."

"He's not going to find us. No one will. And even if he does I'll take care of him just like I took care of your little friend Kimberly." She said the name as if it tasted bad.

Blair was stunned. He stared open mouthed at the young woman for a long time before he spoke again. "Chris, you need help. You can't manipulate other people's lives like this. You're no criminal, either, you're not half as smart as you think you are. You've already made a dozen mistakes that will lead Jim straight to us." He sank to the bed and cupped his face in his hands. "I can't believe you hurt Kim. She was no threat to you. We were just friends."

Rafe had found an address for Christina and he went with Ellison to the apartment. They kicked in the door and entered with guns drawn, even though Jim already knew the apartment was empty. He holstered his weapon immediately as he took in the mess in the room. He picked up a piece of paper that was still almost intact. It made his stomach churn. It was a pencil drawing of Blair laying on his cot in his office exactly as he had been Friday when Jim found him. He had been drugged. Jim kicked himself for not pushing the issue with his stubborn partner.

Casting his eye around the shredded papers on the floor he saw the unmistakable renderings of Blair's eyes looking blankly back at him. He picked up another partial picture. This one showed Blair at the podium, his hands were elegant in a classic Blair gesture. Jim decided the eyes were wrong, all the eyes were wrong. None of them really captured the intelligence and soul that sparkled in the real Blair's eyes. Maybe you couldn't actually capture that spark on paper.

He followed the smell of Blair's usual shampoo and found a bottle of it that had been thrown against the wall. It now oozed into the carpet. He also found a small cloth bag that held a handful of long brown hairs. He didn't need DNA tests to tell him that these came out of Blair's head. Rafe turned on a tape player by the bed and the room suddenly filled with his partner's voice. 

"...there are always changes in society, but they tend to come about less rapidly in more primitive cultures, sometimes taking hundreds of years..."

Rafe turned off the tape when he saw Jim's strickened face. "Obviously Miss McKnight is obsessed with Sandburg," he stated.

Jim flicked open his phone and called in a forensics team. He knew Blair had never been in the apartment, but they might find something useful about her. His gaze landed on another familiar face in a photograph on the dresser. "This is Blair's friend Kimberly," he said showing the photo to Rafe.

"I don't think so." Rafe shook his head pointing to a student ID on the floor. It had a very similar picture, but read Christina McKnight  in big black letters.

Jim stood dumbfounded. He had let the little stalker into the loft himself while Blair slept. How could he have been so stupid? He had known then that something wasn't right about the girl. He flipped open the phone again. This time he called traffic.

"Hello, this is Detective Ellison. I need to find out about an accident late Friday or early Saturday that involved a young woman. Yeah, thanks, I'll wait."

Rafe stepped out of the bathroom. "It looks like most of the toiletries are gone. No toothbrush or combs or anything. No female items of any kind. There are some empty vials for chemicals or drugs."

Jim acknowledged Rafe with a nod just as the officer from traffic came back on the line. "Detective? There was a young lady named Kimberly Ryan run off the road by a hit and run Saturday morning. Could that be the one you were looking for? She's still at Cascade General."

Jim sighed. "Yeah, that's the one. Can you send a copy of the report to me in Major Crimes?"

"Yes, sir, I'll take care of it for you."

Jim closed his phone and looked solemnly at Rafe. "This girl's dangerous," he said.

Blair sat in the dark with his back against the headboard and both feet on the bed. It wasn't like he had any choice. He couldn't reach the lamp and the overhead light didn't work. He had already checked out the bathroom; except for the facilities there was nothing there but a towel, some soap, and a toothbrush. He assumed there was another bathroom somewhere because he had heard a toilet flush earlier. 

He had buttoned his shirt, not because he was necessarily cold but because he felt like a slab of meat every time Chris looked at him. She had left him alone now for hours, but he could still hear her moving around in another part of the cabin he had yet to see. She finally came to the bedroom door carrying a tray with food and water and sat it down on the end of the bed before she backed away. 

"I brought you something to eat," she said.

"No thanks, I'm not in the mood for a nap right now," he replied sarcastically.

"I don't have to put anything in your food. You already know I can knock you out with a touch anytime I want to," she informed him matter-of-factly. She tossed him an unopened bottle of water. "At least drink something."

He let the bottle hit the bed and then picked it up with the thin bedspread wrapped around it. He examined it carefully for evidence of tampering, which wasn't easy in the dim light. Satisfied that it was okay he opened it and took a long drink.

Chris stared at him balefully. "It doesn't have to be like this," she said. "You have to learn to trust me."

Blair smiled wickedly at her. "Take off the cuff and I'll start to trust you," he said coyly.

She nearly melted under his fake smile and fumbled in her pocket for a minute before she came to her senses and dropped her hand. "I can't yet," she said seriously and backed out of the room.

Blair blinked in surprise. It startled him when he realized just how much control he actually had over the girl. She told him herself how easily she could be manipulated. He knew he would hate himself later for breaking her heart, but he was desperate and she was far from innocent. He pulled the tray toward him and began to eat. If she wanted him drugged he couldn't stop her anyway and he was hungry. Besides, if his plan was going to work he would have to start being the perfect prisoner.

"The money's gone." The dark man stood up and slapped the side of the safe. "Damn it."

"It had to be her. She's the only one who didn't get busted. She knew the money was here, but I didn't think she knew the combination," the shorter man with the pock marked face answered.

"Did you ever notice how she could be in the room and nobody would pay her any mind. She probably stood right there and watched one of us open it. It must be some kind of talent."

"Well that talent just signed her death warrant." The ugly man tapped his Glock.

"She bought a cabin up north of here about a month ago. She asked me to look it over and see if it was worth buying."

"Did you check it out?"

"No, but Tony did."

"Here's what we've got. One hundred and three pictures of Sandburg all torn to shreds." Simon pointed to the stack of likenesses of Blair the forensics team had pain-stakingly pieced back together. "We have evidence of a new drug at two locations and a cup with Blair's fingerprints on it and chloral hydrate in it at the girl's apartment. Tapes, papers, hairs, shampoo...Am I leaving anything out Jim?"

Jim shook his head. "The girl seems to be totally obsessed with Sandburg. She was in the loft Saturday morning. I let her in myself when she told me she was Blair's girlfriend," he stated guiltily.  "And judging by the mess in her apartment she obviously has a temper. If I know Sandburg, he's probably not cooperating with her. We need to find them before she hurts him."

"You don't think Blair can handle one girl?" Simon asked.

"Not if she keeps him drugged. I'm afraid she might accidentally overdose him."

"Chris, come talk to me," Blair called out into the dark. He didn't know what time it was but the sun had been down for hours. He waited and wondered if she was asleep but in a few minutes she appeared meekly at the door.

"You should try and sleep," she said softly. 

She looked as if she needed some down time herself. Good, Blair thought, she would be easier to handle if she was strung out.

"I can't. I tried," Blair said petulantly. "Talk to me, I'm bored."

"What do you want to talk about?"

Blair shrugged. "Tell me about your art. What medium do you use?"

"I used to use charcoal, but now I prefer just plain pencil. I like it simple." Her voice changed a little with a confidence that hadn't been there before.

"What do you draw?"

A momentary silence filled the room and Blair thought she wasn't going to answer. 

"You, mostly," she said at last.

"Me? As in you draw pictures of me?" Blair asked incredulously.

"I used to. But now you're here with me. I did one sketch before you woke up. Do you want to see it?"

"Yeah, sure," Blair said easily.

Chris ran into the living room and retrieved the picture from the mantle. Her excitement was evident as she forgot about staying out of Blair's range of motion and crossed over to the lamp just out of his reach and flipped it on. Blair threw up a hand to his face to guard against the glare. 

"Sorry. I'll move the lamp closer when I'm sure you won't use it as a weapon against me."

"You don't think I would try to hurt you, do you?" Blair asked, trying to sound a little wounded by the accusation. Honestly he thought he could hurt her if it would get him off of his leash.

Chris hesitated. "I don't know about right now, but you would have when you woke up. I hadn't thought you could get that mad."

Blair sighed. "How would you feel? I had my freedom taken away. You know what it's like to be used. You didn't like it either."

"Blair, I would never use you. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way."

"Let me see." Blair scooted over on the bed and made room for her to sit down. He patted the bed when she didn't come right away. "Come on, show me."

Chris started to shake a little but she did as she was directed and swung her feet up to mimic Blair's position. She shyly handed him the sketch.

Somewhat unnerved by the subject matter Blair held the picture a long time before he spoke. At the time he hadn't questioned why he'd woken up with his shirt open and now he resented the fact he had been posed.  Blair swallowed, noting the wire bracelet was conspicuously absent from the art work. 

"Wow," he said at last. "This is really good."

"You like it? This one's kind of cheating because your eyes are closed. I always have trouble with your eyes, I could never quite capture the life you have in them. I doubt anyone but me would have ever noticed though."

"Can I keep this? Or will you draw another one for me?" Blair asked, hiding the fact that he was actually a little creeped out by it.

"I don't know. I'm out of subject matter. I don't know what else to draw."

"Out of subject matter. How many of these did you do?"

"I don't know..."

"Yes you do." Blair bumped shoulders with her gently. "Tell me."

Chris smiled and blushed. She ate up the attention Blair was spoon feeding her. "A little over a hundred, I guess."

Blair studied the picture in his hands. "I'm flattered," he lied and looked up with his best puppy dog eyes. Chris went silent, caught up in his gaze. Her breathing picked up in rate as Blair leaned over and tenderly brushed his lips against hers. "Thank you."

"You really...should try...to sleep," Chris stammered jumping from the bed.

"Don't leave. I'm sorry. I won't try to kiss you again. Chris, I'm not like those other guys," Blair promised softly, once again impressed with his power to shake the young woman up.

She paced back and forth beside the bed, apparently wanting to believe him. Indecision was written on her face along with a lifetime of hurt and disappointment. But there was hope there too, and desperate longing and she was right on the edge and could fall either way.

Blair thought she would flee, but suddenly she was back on the bed kissing him fervently. He deepened the kisses, slowing them down as he caressed her with his free arm, sending a mental message to her how much better it would be if he had both arms free. His mouth left hers and moved down her face to her neck. He kissed and suckled her ears and her throat and began to unbutton her sweater. 

Chris suddenly pushed him back on the bed and Blair stared back at her. Once again he thought she would run but she surprised him again. She hastily undid his shirt as she sought out his lips with her own. She worked her way down his chest with her lips and tongue, spending an inordinate amount of time on his nipple ring. Blair felt guilty at his burgeoning pleasure. She noticed too and began to undo his jeans as she kissed his belly.

"No," Blair whispered hoarsely and pulled her up towards him. "We can't, Chris. It's not right." 

She called his bluff. He had no doubt he could physically pull it off, and probably enjoy it all the same. But that would make her right about men and he couldn't do it emotionally. He couldn't do that, not even to the crazy woman who had kidnapped him.

"It's alright, Blair. We're always going to be together. It's not wrong," Chris pleaded and desperately tried to undo his jeans.

Blair pulled away from her and got out of the bed. "It's too soon," he said. "I think you're confusing love with sex. I don't love you, Chris. If we do this it's just sex. I can't."

Blair listened to her crying in the other room until the sun came up but then she must have fallen asleep because the pitiful whimpers finally stopped.  He had heard stories about kidnap victims who started to feel sorry for their captures and wondered vaguely if that was what was happening to him because he felt like a total shit.

"You've got to work on this guilt thing, Sandburg. That's Ellison's department," Blair said out loud in a pretty good Simon Banks impersonation. 

Blair sighed and tried to relax. He might have blown his one chance to escape, but he couldn't really complain too much. He had been held under much worse conditions before. At least this time he was clean and dry and he wasn't under threat of imminent death. Chris fed and watered him like a good little psycho while she declared her undying love for him. If he didn't push her buttons he could hold out indefinitely until Jim could find him and execute a rescue. 

But what if she snapped? What if she realized he was never going to love her and decided to kill him? What if Jim didn't find him this time? It would have all been over if he'd gone through with his plan. He sighed, deciding reluctantly that he had to try again. Maybe all men really are selfish bastards, he thought.

Just before dawn Jim sat alone at the conference table in Simon's office shifting through the stack of 11 by 14 inch papers. He knew Blair was alive, of that he had no doubt. He just felt it. The general assumption was that Christina wouldn't hurt Sandburg, but Jim wasn't so sure. She had already hit Blair once hard enough to leave a mark, plus she'd been stalking him for months. Obviously, the woman was unstable.

Evidence was starting to stack up against her. They had matched prints from her apartment with prints at the loft and at the meth lab.  Damage and paint scratches from Kimberly Ryan's car had led to a black BMW that had been confiscated during the drug bust. Jim was certain Christina had arranged for Ryan to be run off the road, but he doubted she had done the dirty work herself.

Turning his attention back to the art work he thought about the other side of Blair's life. None of the scenes were at the loft or the station where he saw his partner the most. In fact they were all somewhere on Campus. Most were in a classroom or lecture hall, but a few were outside. 

Each picture was a 'snapshot' depicting a real event, each a little different catching a mood or expression vividly. In some Blair wore his glasses, sometimes his hair was pulled back. The picture of Blair sitting on the side of the fountain in front of Hargrove Hall gave Jim a start. The pensive look on Blair's face troubled him. He buried it on the bottom of the stack deciding he would talk to Blair about it later.

At last he found the picture he had been unconsciously searching for. Blair sat against a tree with a large book propped up on his knees. His hair was blowing a little and he had his glasses on. He was looking up and smiling as if greeting someone. Someone that he liked a lot. That's the look that Jim wanted to see as soon as possible. Jim touched the sketch with his fingertip careful not to smear the lines. 

The eyes still weren't perfect, but they were very close. He folded the paper and put it in his shirt pocket as he got up from the table and wandered over to Simon's couch where he laid down and closed his eyes. If he tried he could catch a couple of hours sleep before he went to get Blair. All he had to do was find him first.

The sun had been up for a while and Blair was starting to get hungry. He hadn't slept at all and felt mean for what he planned to do about Chris. And for that, he needed to get her back into his little prison before she had too much time to rest. Even the playing field so to speak. He was tired so she needed to be tired too. An unappealing idea popped into his head and after several minutes nothing else came to mind so he decided to go for it.

Going in to the bathroom he unbuttoned his shirt and kicked off his shoes. He reached down and tugged off his socks with his free hand, he couldn't reach much below his waist with his cuffed one. He rolled his socks up and placed them on the back of the toilet to keep them dry.  He undid his jeans and slid them off. Folding them he placed them on the closed toilet lid. 

It took him a minute to decide what to do with his shirt. Finally he slipped it off his arms and pulled it inside out down along the cuff and onto the wire as far as it would go. He wrapped the rest of the shirt up around the wire to keep it out of the way. Hoping for something hot to come out he turned on the faucet in the tub. Unfortunately it was lukewarm at best, but at least it wasn't ice cold. He glanced back at the door where the thick wire kept it from closing. He stepped out of his boxers and into the tub. After pulling the curtain closed as far as it would go around the wire he flicked on the shower.

As Blair lathered his chest and underarms he heard Chris moving around in the small room. He had known she would show up, but it was worse than he thought it would be. Feeling the color rise in his cheeks, he didn't look before he turned his back to the gap in the curtain, but he didn't ask her to leave. And she didn't.

"I brought you some shampoo. You use conditioner too, right?" She whispered a little breathlessly as she unashamedly watched him shower. She sat two bottles on the side of the tub and didn't move back but merely blinked as the spray of water hit her face.

"Yeah, thanks," Blair said noncommittally all the while thinking about the new subject matter for her art. Namely his ass. As he finished soaping his body he wrote this one off as a bad idea. And he just knew she wasn't gonna leave now until she got the whole show. 

He thought about grabbing her and taking the key, if she even had it on her, but he didn't really want to wrestle with Brutus while he was naked. He thought of the time he had spent with a tribe in Malaysia. To be accepted into the remote village he had been made to visit with the chief without his clothes. In fact he had gone naked for several days while there and quite frankly had enjoyed the freedom. 

Was he really this modest? No. He was just feeling a little vulnerable right now, that's all. He pictured himself in the shower at the loft. ALONE. He quit trying to cover himself and turned around to wet his hair. He gave Chris a dirty look, once he managed to catch her eye. She paled visibly at the glare and fled the room. Blair smiled to himself. 

"Serves you right," he said under his breath and washed his hair in peace.

Blair dried off while still in the shower then wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out to discover his clothes were gone except for the shirt tangled in the wire.  There was a large wire, shirt, and handcuff knot that Blair couldn't get undone. He ended up ripping the sleeve off completely. 

His wet hair continually dripped down his back and he thought about asking for another towel, but he didn't really want to talk to her right now. In the bedroom he saw clean sweat pants, socks and underwear on the bed. Stepping over to them he realized that they were his. How nice. The lunatic had packed him a bag. He wondered when she had done that.

He pulled the boxers on before dropping the towel. He felt violated enough without giving her another shot at his dignity. Picking up the towel he sat on the edge of the bed and started to dry his hair. He became aware of her in the doorway but never looked her way. He might try his plan again later, but right now he was too pissed to act like he liked her.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have intruded. I'll give you some privacy from now on. I can't expect you to respect me if I don't respect you."

"Chris, you've got to let me go. I'm not what you think I am." Blair was surprised how calm he sounded because he still couldn't bring himself to look at her.

"Oh, Blair...you're exactly what I think you are. You proved it last night. You could have... but you didn't. You're not like all the others. I have been rushing things, that's all. I'll give you all the time in the world. Someday you'll love me like I love you," Chris gushed. "I'll be back later. I have something I have to do in town."

When Blair looked up she was gone. He heard the front door close and a few minutes later a car started and drove away. He pulled on the sweat pants and crawled under the thin bedspread. Being wet had made him cold. Or maybe it was just being in the room with her, he wasn't sure which. She hadn't acted very shy or timid last night or this morning. Glancing down at the floor he saw the picture of himself and began to wonder what she had done to him while he was drugged. He felt a little safer now that she was gone and quickly fell asleep.

Going over the Volvo again in the police impound lot had accomplished nothing so Jim headed to Blair's office. He felt like he was grasping at straws and something had to give. He pushed back his small sense of guilt at going through Blair's things. Even though the office seemed to be a mess to him he was certain that Blair knew where everything was. 

Well maybe not everything, Jim thought as he opened the briefcase full of money. He was certain Blair had no idea how the satchel got stuffed in the chest under the cot. The chest hadn't even there on Friday. It had been stacked with papers and books next to the shelf. The smell of the leather was mixed with a chemical odor and Jim strongly suspected Christina had something to do with it.

On the way back to the station Jim passed a beige Corolla headed in the direction of Rainier. Something about the nondescript car jumped out at him. He had seen it before. Looking in the rearview mirror he zeroed in on the driver. It was her. He subconsciously remembered seeing her drive by the warehouse as the bust went down. The DMV had come up empty on a vehicle registered to her and he had never made the connection himself. He turned around slowly and followed at a distance so he wouldn't spook her. When he called in the plates it came back registered to Randall Pike, crime lord and drug dealer.

Chris unlocked Blair's office and practically ran to the cot. She yanked on the chest and ripped the top off. To her horror and surprise the chest was empty.

"Looking for this?" a gruff voice asked from the door.  

Blair's roommate Jim stood in the door dangling the briefcase from his hand. She was caught and she knew it.  If she didn't tell the cop where Blair was he would eventually starve to death and she couldn't let him suffer. He was the only decent man she had ever met. 

Jim crossed over to her and pulled her to her feet. "Is he all right?" he asked as he quickly frisked her for weapons and then cuffed her.

"I love him," Chris sobbed, unable to hold back her emotions.

He grasped her face and forced her to look at him. "Is he hurt?" he repeated with an icy edge.

She studied his face and remembered the way she had found them, the tender way this man had held her beloved. "He's okay, but I didn't give him anything to eat today. He's probably hungry."

Jim closed his eyes for a second and she felt his relief. "You got the eyes wrong," he told her coldly as he guided her out the door.

Blair woke immediately when he heard the vehicle approaching. It didn't sound like the same car, but he couldn't be sure. Jim would be able to tell the difference he thought. He heard two sets of footsteps on the porch and men's voices, although he couldn't make out the words. It must be Jim  he thought as the front door was kicked in. He heard movement in the house and then the bedroom door opened.

"Hello," Blair said meekly to the burly black man with the large gun. "I don't suppose you're a cop, huh?" He pulled the bedspread up to cover his bare chest.

"No, sorry," the man laughed as he peeked into the bathroom and then the closet. After he eyed the wire and handcuff set up he shoved his gun into his waistband. "Where's Chris?"

Blair blinked back his disappointment. Unless this guy was a bounty hunter or something he was in deep shit. Again. He went with the truth. "She left this morning. I'm not sure what time. It might have been around noon."

"Whoa! What have we got here?" goon number two giggled as he appeared in the door. "That bitch really did it, didn't she? I thought she was all talk, huh, Randy?" 

"At least we know she'll be coming back here. Go hide the car and we'll wait her out."

"Right, boss," the ugly man said but didn't leave. Instead he moved closer to Blair. "You really are a pretty boy, aren't you? Let's see what cha got." He tugged at the edge of the cover, but Blair had a death grip on it. His eyes were wide and his lips set in a grim line.

"Clay. Quit fucking with him and go hide the car like I told ya," Randy ordered.

Clay grinned at Blair as he backed away. On his way out, when he was out of the larger man's line of sight, he blew Blair a kiss. Blair swallowed hard. This nightmare just took a turn for the worst.

Randy picked up the drawing from the floor and scanned it quickly before letting it float to the bed. "Where's my money?" he asked, turning his brown eyes back to Blair.

"Do I really look like I'm in the know here?" Blair exclaimed as he lifted his cuffed hand for emphasis. As an afterthought he added "You don't happen to have any hand cuff keys on you, do you?"

"I told you I'm not a cop," Randy said patiently.

"Right." Blair nodded thoughtfully. This guy didn't seem so bad so he decided to push his luck. "What money?"

Randy laughed. "You're an audacious little shit aren't you? All right my friend, I'll tell you. Chris stole a quarter of a million dollars from my meth lab. She has the hots for you so maybe we'll make a little trade."

"Either way I lose," Blair muttered and the big man didn't disagree.

When Clay got back, which was way too soon for Blair, he brought a large pair of bolt cutters with him. "Stand back, pretty boy. I'll have you out of there in a jiffy."

"Why are you letting me go?" Blair asked suspiciously while he tried to maintain his cool and find what was left of his shirt. He looked to the door and wondered where Randy was.

"I'm not letting you go. Randy wants you mobile in case we have to jet."

"Oh," Blair said as he looked up just in time to hear the snap and see the cut wire whip in his direction. "Ow!" he screamed and grabbed his face with both hands. Blood oozed between his fingers.

"Shit, kid! You could'a put your eye out!" Clay exclaimed urgently.

"Mom?" Blair asked sarcastically from behind his hands.

"You're funny. I like you. We're gonna get along real good," Clay assured as he took the now free end of the cuffs and clicked them into place around Blair's right wrist. "Lemme see." He sat Blair on the edge of the bed and tugged the shackled hands away from the bloodied face.

Blair kept his eyes closed, afraid he wouldn't be able to see. He felt the edge of the bedspread on his face as Clay wiped the blood away.

"Your eye is okay, it caught you just under it on the cheek."

Blair's sigh of relief was short lived as he opened his eyes. Clay didn't back away when he finished his examination of the injury. His legs were on either side of Blair's on the edge of the bed and he leaned into Blair's personal space. 

The ugly man was older than Blair and stood about the same height, but he had at least thirty pounds on him, all of it muscle. He had a lot of crude looking all black tattoos and looked like a man who took what he wanted. He touched Blair's hair, and then smelled it. 

Blair hit him hard in the face with both hands but Clay caught his hair in a meaty fist and yanked Blair down to the mattress. He straddled him and pinned his arms down with his weight. As he continued to hold Blair's hair with one hand he started to stroke his face and neck with the other.

"We're gonna get along just fine," he cooed.

Blair tried to turn his head, but the hold was too tight. "No!" he pleaded once before closing his eyes and mouth tight.

Clay pressed his lips hard against Blair's mouth as he rocked his body against him. Now both of the thick hands were roughly in his hair forcing his head back as Clay kissed and bit his neck. Blair's eyes stung with blood and tears and he wanted to scream for help but didn't dare open his mouth. 

When at last he let out a desperate cry, the man's foul tasting mouth covered his and a tongue forced its way past his lips. Blair bit the tongue and was rewarded by a short reprieve followed quickly by a hard punch to the right cheek. He lay dazed, vaguely realizing the weight had lifted from him. With an unspeakable horror he felt his body being rolled onto his belly...

"Clay!" 

Suddenly the assault was over. Blair dropped off the bed and gagged in the corner of the room, although he didn't have anything in his stomach to throw up. He scrubbed at his mouth with the sheet, oblivious to his now bruised lips.

"What the hell's wrong with you! I told you to leave him alone! Get out of my sight, you piece of shit," Randy yelled and Clay ducking quickly out the door.

Blair shivered in the corner for what could have been an eternity. When he opened his eyes he saw Randy watching him with a stunned expression. There was blood everywhere.

"I guess prison was harder on him than I thought," Randy said, almost as an apology. "Why don't you get cleaned up a little."

Blair nodded and went into the bathroom. The door closed all the way now that the wire was gone, so he shut it. He would have locked it too, if there had been a lock. He sank down between the toilet and the tub and wrapped his arms around his knees, shell shocked, rocking back and forth. 

'God help me,' he prayed silently. 'I wish Jim was here.'

Christina sat quietly during the drive only speaking to give occasional directions. She was calm now. Too calm, Jim thought. It was spooky. Just as he thought she might be leading him on a wild goose chase he saw the cabin. Back up was a good twenty minutes behind since he hadn't waited for them back at the main road as he'd been instructed. Simon was pissed, but Jim didn't really care. He had other things on his mind. 

Blair jumped when the door opened. "Get up, kid," Randy ordered. "Someone just drove up." He didn't mention the fact that Blair was still covered in blood. He tried to help Blair to his feet, but the hand was refused.

In the living room Clay was looking out the window. He glanced back at Blair and said "You're tough for a pretty boy. You and me, we gonna go again someday." 

Blair noticed Clay's split lip with a snort. "I'll kill you first," he said without blinking.

"Outside." Randy pushed Blair forward with the nozzle of his gun while Clay stayed behind.

Jim made an audio sweep of the cabin as he pulled up and shut off the car. There were three heartbeats instead of one. The one he was listening for was way too fast. 'I'll kill you first,' he heard Blair say. From the deadly tone of voice Jim knew he meant it.

"Stay in the truck," he told Christina tersely. As he pulled his gun he flicked off the safety and leveled it at the door. 

At that moment a bloody and battered Blair stepped through it. He wore only sweat pants and his face was bruised and covered in dried blood. A continuous trickle of fresh blood ran down his left cheek onto his bare chest. 

"Blair!" Jim shouted. He could hear Christina in the truck sobbing at the sight of her prisoner.

A large black man followed Blair closely with a gun held to his temple. "Who are you?" the man called out to Jim. 

Blair was uncharacteristically quiet. He met Jim's eyes only for a second and then dropped his gaze to the ground.

"I'm Detective James Ellison of the Cascade police department. That's my partner you have there," Jim said, not lowering his gun.

"Really?" the man asked Blair. "You didn't tell me you were a cop."

"I'm not," Blair replied curtly.

"He's a police observer. But make no mistake. He's one of ours," Jim replied stonily. "Who are you?"

"Randall Pike. Look, all I want is my money."

"Okay, I've got it with me. Don't do anything stupid. We'll trade and you can be on your way," Jim assured.

"Deal." 

Jim slowly backed toward the truck to get the money. "Give me the briefcase," he said when he opened the door. 

Christina was already pushing it towards him. Her breath came in harsh shudders. "Please help him," she cried.

"He's gonna be fine, Christina. Stay calm." 

Jim took the briefcase and glared at the woman before moving back toward the porch. As he opened the case to reveal the contents Blair glanced at him and back at the door. Jim nodded once to indicate that he knew the other man was inside.

Blair swayed on his feet. "Randy, I gotta sit for a minute," he said softly. 

To Jim's surprise the man held on to Sandburg's elbow and steadied him as Blair lowered himself to the step. The man then knelt directly behind him to shield himself and raised the gun once again to Blair's head.

Jim looked on in confusion, trying to decide if Blair was up to something or if he was really sick. For a minute he waited for some kind of sign from his partner, but Blair only lower his head into his hands. The pale skin and rapid heart rate convinced Jim that Blair was indeed injured. Peripherally he saw movement and caught Chris in his gun arm as she flew past him toward the cabin, barely managing to keep a hold on the case full of money.

"Blair!" she screamed.