Name : Lee Sterling a.k.a. Cyberoid13
Title : Time Circle - Converging
Category : Drama
Rating : G

Author's comments : Yes! It's finally done! Whew! I thought I would never get
this finished. This is the first instalment of the Time Circle trilogy, and a
monster to write. Took me several drafts and at least three major plot changes
before it takes shape. So without further ado, read on. By the way, it all started
after 'Survival'.

Disclaimer : The usual disclaimers apply. All Sentinel characters and locations
do not belong to me…yadda, yadda, yadda…but all original characters do
belong to me.

Note : * - indicates thought
// - indicates telepathic speech

———————————————————————————————————

~ CONVERGING ~


Prologue

Lightning clashed and hurricane winds howled, churning the atmosphere into a
dizzying phenomenon of unbridled violence. The vortex was contained
between by two slim man-tall pillars of metal and sheer energy. She had no
doubt if unleashed, the storm could flatten the entire city effortlessly. It was that
primal, that beautiful and that...unnatural.

Her hackles raised as the last thought crossed her mind. *This is wrong,* she
told herself silently. *We shouldn't be doing this at all. Yet our lives depend on
it.*

She tore her gaze away from the volatile display of what science could do and
seek out the reassuring profile of her companion.

Long reddish-brown hair tousled by the strong gust of wind from the vortex, the
slighter-built woman stood at her side, arms wrapped protectively about
herself. She doubted if her companion was even aware of what she was doing.
Her companion stared unblinkingly at the vortex, even though the brilliance of
pure colliding energy had got to hurt her eyes. Her companion turned, feeling
her gaze on her.

//Do we have to do this?// her companion asked plaintively.

//We don't have a choice.// She bridged the distance between them with an
arm and squeezed her companion's shoulder reassuringly. //Wait for my
letters, okay?//

//Just...stay alive. //

//I will.// Giving her companion's shoulder one last reassuring squeeze, she
turned to confront the terrifying phenomenon.

She took a deep breath and walked forward, shielding her eyes from the
brightness of the vortex looming ahead of her. *I must be insane to do this,*
she thought nervously as she climbed the steps to the platform. Stopping right
at the threshold, she looked back for the last time.

Her companion stood a safe distance away, a lone small figure in the
cavernous chamber. She was so still; her hair whipping about in the vortex-
created wind the only flurry of movement.

//Good luck,// came the quivery voice on the verge of crying.

//Take care of yourself and your family.//

She turned back to the vortex, her heart triple-thundering from fear. This was
definitely insanity. She took another deep breath, closed her eyes and stepped
into the vortex to meet her destiny.

Her companion squeezed her eyes shut, involuntarily turning away from the
brilliant flash of light that seared her eyes. When she could see again, the
vortex had closed and the platform was empty again.

*She's gone,* she thought incoherently. *She's not coming back. Ever.* Her
gaze dropped to her trembling hands. She clenched her fists, pressing them
hard against her stricken heart. *Why wasn't I with her? She needs me, damn
it.*

"Doctor."

She raised her face blindly, blinking when she saw the general standing before
her. She was so deep in her turmoil that she hadn't even noticed when he
entered the chamber.

"Yes, sir?"

The general took a deep breath, as though steeling himself against a very
nasty task. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Doctor. But the transit didn't work."

"What?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Solemnly, the general handed her a very old piece of news clipping. Dazedly,
she read it and read it again. An explosion in an abandoned building, killing two
in a seedy neighbourhood of Cascade. The fog of grief dissipated, replaced by
a fissure of alarm that spread swiftly through her being.

"We have to warn her," she declared. "She needs to know about this."

"My sentiments exactly, Doctor. How long would you need to come up with
another personnel recommendation?"

"I can give you a name right now."

The general was surprised. "Who is it?"

"Me."

He immediately shook his head. "That's out of the question, Doctor."

"It is the only logical solution, sir. You have to send me back. She will not listen
to anyone else beside me. You'll have to trust me on it."

The general hesitated, seeing the flinty determination in her dark blue eyes.
Whatever argument the general wanted to make was lost. He did trust her to
make the right decision, though he could not understand her unique
relationship with the other woman.

"All right," he said at last. "Go get changed. You'll transit in five hours."

"Yes, sir."

———————————————————————————————————

Major Crimes, Cascade PD
Friday - 7pm

It had been a quiet day at work, for once. Detective James Ellison hummed
softly under his breath as he closed the file of his latest case and dropped it
into his 'Out' tray with a relieved smile. *There, paperwork all done.*

It had been two unusually long days. Long because he was not out there doing
field work, but rather he was stuck at his desk catching up with his paperwork.
Two days ago, Simon had very casually hinted at retribution if he didn't clear
the stack of work piling up on his desk. Jim took the hint.

At first he hadn't mind clearing his caseload, despite his aversion to
paperwork. The past few weeks had been somewhat tiring. Starting with the
desperate race against time to save Simon taken hostage by Quinn, and after
that, solving a spate of bank robberies and a murder case. He and his partner
didn't get a chance to sit down and take a breather before the next tough case
landed on their desk.

Especially his partner. Blair Sandburg already had a hard time juggling his
university life with police work. Now a leg healing from a bullet wound and the
trauma of being airlifted out of Cascade National Reserve took further toil on
his partner with Energizer-like energy.

But after one day straight of desk work without Blair's help, Jim was starting to
feel confined. He just wasn't the administrative type. His partner, on the other
hand, being an academic, didn't have problems with writing reports. Too bad
he was stuck at the university rushing to meet a paper deadline. On the second
day, Jim had to grit his teeth and dove into the remaining caseload with a
single-mindedness that would do his partner proud.

But all these concentration paid off. At last his caseload was cleared and
Simon no longer have any reason to glower at his desk.

Jim pushed back his chair, stretching the kinks out of his stiff back. Simon had
already left for home - he was looking forward to another weekend with Daryl.
He would just have to hand in the stack of completed reports on Monday. He
glanced up at the wall clock.

Seven o'clock. Time for the changing of the shifts. The bullpen was crowded as
staff from both the day and night shifts mingled. It was time for him to go home
too, as he worked the day shift. One last trip to the break room to clean out his
mug of stale coffee and he was ready to go.

He had told his partner he would be there at Rainier University to pick him up
at eight. Ever since his Corvair was trashed by that Summers kid, Sandburg
hadn't been able to find the perfect car within the small budget he allocated for
it. And besides, he didn't trust Blair to be alone for any reasonable length of
time and not attract trouble.

He wove his way through the crowded bullpen, exchanging pleasantries with
several fellow cops. His attention distracted by a joke Brown was telling, Jim
accidentally bumped into someone entering the bullpen.

"Sorry," he apologised automatically. His good mood faded when he finally saw
who it was he bumped into. His instinctive wariness that never lowered due to
the dangerous nature of his job rose another notch. "McKennitt."

"Ellison," Detective J.E. McKennitt acknowledged coolly.

Detective J.E. McKennitt was the latest addition to the Major Crimes Unit. She
had joined them a month ago and very quickly earned the nickname 'Ice
Queen'.

McKennitt wasn't that bad to look at. She was about the same age as he was,
give or take a few years. Her mane of shoulder-length black hair framed a face
arresting for its stark strength and pride. The slant to her dark brown eyes, the
slight bluntness of her cheekbones hinted at Oriental heritage.

But it was her behaviour that held people back at arm's length. She was
reserved and aloof, distant and cold.

McKennitt was the new Lone Wolf of the unit. She refused to have a partner,
nor did she make any efforts to make friends. She wasn't difficult to work. On
contrary, most people agreed that she was much easier to get along than Jim
had been when he was the Lone Wolf. They also agreed it was a bad idea to
provoke her temper though.

"Watch where you're going the next time." Slinging her gym bag over her
shoulder, she brusquely moved past him and into the bullpen.

Jaws flexing, the only indication of his disappearing good mood, Jim stalked off
to the break room. Was it just him, or did McKennitt really has something
against him?

"Hey, Jim!" The all-too familiar voice halted him halfway down the corridor.

Blair Sandburg, his partner with the perchance for attracting trouble, bounced
down the corridor to meet him. His coffee-brown hair was damp, and there was
a light sheen of rainwater on his brown leather jacket. But his dark blue eyes
sparkled with that endless energy that characterised him. He was still limping
slightly, but that didn't seem to hinder his hyper behaviour. Blair had recovered
pretty fast from his leg injury, eschewing his walking cane for his own two legs.

"I was just about to come pick you up from the campus."

"Managed to beat the deadline a few hours earlier than I thought. A friend of
mine offered to give me a lift, so I decided to save you the trouble. You ready
to go?"

"Yeah. Just as soon I clean out my mug."

Jim resumed his walk to the break room, Blair falling into steps beside him. It
didn't take Blair long to realise that something was bothering his partner.

His Sentinel's chiselled and finely-carved face doesn't give away his thoughts
and emotions easily. But from long experience working and living together with
him, Blair was intimately attuned to the working of his psyche and body
language. To him, Jim's black mood was about as obvious as a neon
signboard.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

Jim's jaws just flexed, a sure sign of irritation. He didn't answer nor did he
afford a glance in his partner's direction. He just stalked to the break room and
rinsed out his mug with several furious moves. When he turned away from the
sink, he saw Blair leaning against the wall with a patient 'well-I'm-waiting' look.

He exhaled, releasing some of his irritation with that breath and told Blair, "I
bumped into McKennitt before you arrives."

Blair's reaction was immediate. "You two didn't start another quarrel, did you?"

Jim snorted, but he didn't protest the allegation. It was common knowledge in
the unit that McKennitt and he were like same magnetic poles - they repelled
each other violently.

Blair knew that Jim had a natural hostility towards the latest addition to Major
Crimes, and it appeared that McKennitt herself felt the same way about Jim.
He had his own theory for it: two extremely territorial people defending his and
her own territories which overlapped due to close working proximity. It was a
theory Jim didn't care much for. It made him sound like a Neanderthal, he
declared to his Guide.

Blair could still vividly remember the first time they clashed. It was a month ago
on McKennitt's first day at work in Major Crimes. Jim had been extremely
reluctant to go over to her desk to introduce himself and welcomed her to the
unit. On hindsight, he should have recognised Jim's instinctive response and
leave things as it was. But he didn't, and he was still kicking himself over it.

Even until now, Blair had no idea what went wrong. Jim and McKennitt were
exchanging cautious pleasantries, and the next thing he knew, their
conversation had escalated into a verbal fight. He had to practically drag Jim
away before they physically went for each other's throat. He had never seen
instant dislike flare up as intensely as theirs.

"So what happened?" Blair pressed.

"I walked into her, I apologised to her, and all she told me was to watch where I
was going the next time."

Blair relaxed, though he was still mystified. "So what's the problem?"

"It's the way she said it, Chief. Just rubbed me the wrong way."

"I'm sure she didn't mean it, Jim. Look at it this way, the two of you are a
classic example of people who cannot live together."

"Right." Jim sounded disbelieving. He picked up his clean mug. "Let's go,
Chief."

Back at the bullpen, Jim placed his mug back in its usual place, tidied up his
desk while keeping an eye on McKennitt all the time. The detective was at her
desk, phone receiver cradled between shoulder and neck as she exchanged
her sneakers for the heavy-duty boots she usually wore.

"So what are we having for dinner?" Blair asked brightly.

Jim grabbed his black leather jacket from the coat rack. "Why don't we get out
of here first?"

Blair noticed the slight tension in Jim's voice, and the direction he was looking
at. He understood immediately. Jim didn't want to be anywhere near McKennitt
any longer than he had to. He hurried to keep up with Jim and his longer
strides. But as luck would have it, they barely made it out of the bullpen when
she crossed paths with them again.

"Ellison."

Jim stopped in mid-step, giving a 'now what?' expression to the heavens.
Beside him, Blair was wincing at the anticipated confrontation.

"Be calm, Jim." He whispered almost soundlessly to his Sentinel. "Just hear
what she's got to say first, all right?"

Jim glared at him even as he reined in the anger that simmered whenever
McKennitt was nearby. He schooled his face into the infamous Ellison's stony
countenance that turned hard-boiled criminals to quivering mush, and directed
the full weight of that glare to McKennitt.

"What do you want?" Beside him, Blair cringed at the rudeness in his voice.

But McKennitt remained nonplussed. "Do you remember a Al Robertson?"

Jim's black mood soured further. How could he not forget? Robertson was a
case that, other his nose telling him the truth, there was no concrete evidence
against him.

"I arrested him two months ago on charges of drug-dealing. But he was
released due to a lack of evidence. Why do you ask?"

"My snitch just called. He's got a tip that Robertson is about to make another
exchange down at the corner of Graham Street and West Avenue at twelve
tonight."

"Graham Street?" Jim folded his arms across his chest as he thought about it.
"Shady neighbourhood."

"I'll need backup. And since you know Robertson better than I do, maybe you
would like to join me."

Jim raised his eyebrows at the carefully worded request. It was rare to hear
McKennitt asking for help, even rarer to have her asking him for help. He
glanced at his partner, debating whether to take her up on that offer.

"I don't know. My partner's still recovering from his leg wound."

"Come on, Jim." Blair interrupted what he knew to be a lame excuse. "I'm all
right. See, I can walk just fine."

"What about Simon's orders?" Jim asked obliquely.

"What about it?"

"Sandburg — " Jim began warningly.

"Okay, okay. I take it back." Blair had to refrain from rolling his eyes.

He knew darned well Simon had ordered Jim to stay away from McKennitt after
their first confrontation. But he wasn't in the mood to listen to orders right now.
He was getting pretty tired of sitting on the sideline.

"Jim, please." He pleaded, giving him the puppy-dog look. "Beside, you can't
just let a fellow cop do a stakeout without backup."

Bull's eye.

Jim sighed and gave up, knowing it was pointless to argue further. What his
partner said was right, and had struck a nerve in him. As much as he dislikes
McKennitt, he couldn't bring himself to turn down a fellow cop's request for
backup. The job was hazardous enough as it is; no point making it worse. *The
kid got my number, all right.*

"Fine," he told McKennitt finally. "But you'll take your car and I'll take my
truck. How about it?"

"Sounds just fine with me, Ellison."

———————————————————————————————————

8th Street, Cascade
Friday - 11:30pm

Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder rumbled ominously. It was not
unusual for rainstorms to arrive during spring. That was one of the
unpredictable hazards of the Pacific Northwest. But the bolt of blue lightning
striking the alleyway, and moments later, a body falling, bouncing off a fire
escape, to finally hit the ground in a senseless heap was unusual, to say the
least.

The body began to stir moments later, moaning inaudibly. The long mass of
reddish-brown hair hiding her face like a curtain, she slowly, painfully, climbed
to her feet. An occasional whimper was the only sound she made. Half-doubled
over in obvious agony, she staggered drunkenly out of the alleyway and
slumped against the building's wall. She began to shiver, partly from the rainy
chill, partly from the difficult travel that had sapped her strength. The clothes
she wore - simple sweater, jeans and hiking boots - were not enough to keep
her warm.

Her surroundings were familiar, yet at the same time unfamiliar. She didn't like
it at all, uncomfortable with the strangeness of the situation.

Closing her eyes, she laid a hand against her chest, feeling her pounding heart.
Healing warmth spread from her palm and into her heart, and rapidly
throughout her body. Opening eyes surprisingly alert and free of pain, she
straightened and pushed herself away from the support of the cold brick wall.
There was a street sign near her; she squinted to see the name.

"8th Street," she muttered to herself. "I'm on 8th Street."

On strong legs, she trotted down the pavement, heading unerringly in the right
direction. She paused when she saw a yellow-top vehicle cruising down
towards her.

A cab, she realised. *Yes!*

"Where to, lady?" the cab driver asked cheerfully as she tumbled into the back
seat.

"Graham Street," she replied breathlessly. "As fast as you can go."

———————————————————————————————————

Corner of Graham Street and West Avenue,
Cascade
Friday night - 11:45pm

"Brr..." Blair burrowed deeper into his jacket in the cab of the loaner truck. He
tucked his hands under his arms. "Tell me again, Jim. Why can't we have the
heat on?"

"Because the windows will fog from the condensation," Jim replied obligingly,
"and give our position away." He glanced at his partner when he shifted
restlessly for the nth time during the stakeout. "Stop that squirming, Chief. It's
distracting."

"I'll stop squirming, period, when we get the Expedition back from the shop,"
Blair retorted. "The seat of this loaner's killing my butt, man. Don't you find it
cold and uncomfortable in here?"

Jim tried unsuccessfully not to smirk at his uncomfortable partner looking for all
the world like a hyper-active kid trying hard not to squirm...which was not too
far removed from the truth.

"Relax, Chief. We got fifteen minutes more to go. If nothing happens by then,
we're outta here and back in our warm and cosy loft."

"Before I turn into a block of ice," Blair grunted. "I hope."

"Quit complaining. This was your idea."

Jim resumed his vigilant lookout, listening amusedly to Blair griping about 'why
he had to open his big mouth'.

There was an abandoned building on the corner of Graham Street and West
Avenue. It was the perfect location for any shady exchange to take place. He
and his partner were parked three blocks up on Graham Street, the battered-
looking loaner blending right in with the other equally dismal-looking vehicles
parked along the pavement. McKennitt was staking out West Avenue in her
brown Buick.

Jim pulled his Jags baseball cap lower over his face, shading his sensitive
eyes from the streetlights as he upped his Sentinel senses. He scanned the
area methodically, square by grid square, searching for that one suspicious
sign that would give the criminals away. Blair's voice was a reassuring murmur
in his mind, anchoring him.

His walkie-talkie, which had been silent for nearly an hour, crackled alive
again. "McKennitt to Ellison."

Eyes never leaving the scene, Jim took the police walkie-talkie from the
dashboard. "Ellison."

"Anything?"

"No." With his hearing turned up, Jim could hear the barely audible sigh coming
through the walkie-talkie.

"Nothing on my end either. Keep your eyes open. McKennitt out."

In her Buick, McKennitt dumped the walkie-talkie back onto the dashboard and
rubbed her temple.

Something has better happen in the next fifteen minutes, or she's going to be a
jumble of frayed nerves by then. Her senses were going haywire, had been
acting up for nearly fifteen minutes. It was like someone throwing on and
yanking off a muffler with a sporadic timing. The unpredictability of it was
driving her nuts.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to regain her normal calm.
Her senses faded again, bringing with it a welcomed relief. The series of deep
breathing exercises she was taught worked as it always did, bringing a sense
of peace to her mind.

* * *

Blair blinked as the transmission ended abruptly. "Well, that was brief. I
wonder what's eating her?"

"Probably just her nature," Jim replied irritably as he put down the walkie-talkie.

"Come on, Jim. You don't really think that, do you?" His partner kept his eyes
straight front. Blair sighed. "I know this is going sound impossible, but all these
animosity between the two of you has got to go."

"Chief, we barely tolerate each other."

"But you're working in the same unit. The elite unit in the police department, for
that matter. All these hostility can't be good for the unit, or for either of you.
One of these days, the both of you are going to start a fight you're going to
regret." Blair shook his head at the sheer hard-headedness of the two very
strong people he knew. "Maybe it's the competitive streak in you two."

Jim's glacial blue eyes speared him with a suspicious glower. "What do you
mean by that, Chief?"

"Don't you know? McKennitt's track record is almost as good as yours."

"And how would you know that?"

"I went down to Personnel and did some checking."

Jim only looked at him long and steady.

"Someone has to got to find out why she ticks you off so much," he protested
defensively. "And it's all through proper channels."

Jim's steady gaze never waver.

"Okay, okay, I persuaded Julie to let me have a peek at McKennitt's file.
Satisfied?" Blair sighed mentally. Trust his partner to dig every bit of the truth
out of him.

"So what did you find out?"

"One year in Narcotics, plus another six in Homicide. Transferred to Major
Crimes a month ago. Other than the fact she always worked alone and her
track record is excellent? Nada."

Blair glanced at his partner to check whether he was listening and discovered
that he was, but not to him. He recognised the Sentinel's listening-in-enhanced-
mode pose: chin lifted, head slightly cocked and eyes distant.

His dissatisfaction with his partner's attitude forgotten, Blair slipped instantly
into Guide mode.

"Jim?" He reached over to touch his shoulder, grounding the Sentinel. "What
did you hear?"

"Someone just entered the building." Jim grabbed the walkie-talkie.
"McKennitt."

"Ellison, someone's in the building." Came the reply almost instantly.

Jim and Blair exchanged a startled look.

"I'm going in," McKennitt continued to say.

"You're not going in alone," Jim objected firmly.

"Ellison -"

Jim cut her off unceremoniously, not giving her a chance to protest. "Take the
back door. I'll go in by the front. Do you read me, McKennitt?"

In her Buick, McKennitt was almost tempted to ignore his order. She had been
doing stakeouts about as long as he did, damn it. But this was not the time for
an argument.

"Yes, I read you." She snapped, clearly annoyed at being overrode so quickly.

Jim tossed the walkie-talkie to Blair and took the combination headset. "Stay
here, Chief."

"Jim -" Blair began protest.

"Not now, Sandburg. I'm going to have my hands full with McKennitt and
Robertson in a while. I need to know you're safe, just for my peace of mind."

Blair watched as Jim put on the appearance of someone heading for home and
made his way towards the building. Taking the binoculars he brought specially
for this occasion, Blair scanned West Avenue.

McKennitt was crossing the street, heading for the building as well. She was
also wearing a combination headset and her gun was held loosely by her side.
Her eyes were constantly scanning her surrounding. For a wild moment, he
thought she was looking straight at him.

*Must be my imagination,* he dismissed uneasily. *No way she could see me
from that distance. Man, am I getting paranoid or what.*

Unaware of the thoughts running through Blair's mind, McKennitt disappeared
into the back alley. For once, her sight and hearing were working to her
advantage. Her heavy-duty boots made no sounds as she surely picked her
way through the rubbish-littered alley. Gun held aloof, she cautiously opened
the back door to the building and peered in. Only when she was sure that the
area was clear did she slip inside.

* * *

Blair chewed his lower lip, nervously drumming his fingers on his thigh, as he
eyed the abandoned building. Jim had vanished into the building just minutes
ago and he already felt as though he had been waiting for hours.

There was something very wrong about this scenario. The grad student knew
he was no cop to make such a judgement, but he had learnt enough from the
real cops to heed his gut instincts. If only he knew what was wrong with the
picture.

"Jim?" He spoke softly into the walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"I don't like this, man. I really don't like this."

"Is there trouble out there?"

"No, but -"

Jim sighed soundlessly. "Sandburg, just keep your eyes peeled for any
surprises out there, okay? Let McKennitt and I watch the inside. I'm going
silent."

Focused on the situation once more, Jim led the way to the stairs. The building
was quiet and very dusty. He covered his nose yet again with a black-leather
clad arm, stifling the coming sneeze. Behind him, McKennitt did the same on
her dark brown trench coat.

"Way too much dust around here," she muttered too softly for anyone but a
Sentinel could hear.

Jim heartily agreed but said nothing. The heartbeat he detected from outside
was moving about on the third floor. He tapped McKennitt's shoulder and
pointed upward. She nodded, silently following him as he took point.

They had to move cautiously, taking care to prevent the wooden stairs from
creaking and giving their presence away. He frowned when behind him,
McKennitt stumbled suddenly.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Missed a step back there."

"Don't you have a flashlight?"

McKennitt glared daggers at him, but kept her mouth shut. She took out a slim
torch from her trench coat pocket. It wasn't her fault that her sight fritzed out
again, right after her hearing, without warning. It was downright frustrating, not
knowing why her senses were on a fritz.

Then Jim suddenly motioned for her to stop. She did, watching his intent
expression changed into a puzzled frown, then finally into comprehension.

"What?" she mouthed the word.

But Jim simply shook his head and moved on again. McKennitt didn't have to
know that the perp upstairs had switched on a white-noise generator, blocking
his hearing. That told him two thing a) the criminal knew they were here, or b)
the criminal was dealing with a Sentinel crook and that, Jim was not prepared
to accept.

When they finally reached the third floor, Jim and McKennitt split up, covering
the entire level. Jim felt his frustration increased when they turned up empty. It
was as though the perp had vanished, which was not impossible since Jim
couldn't hear him leave the building with the white-noise generator on.

The only trouble was the perp must have used two white-noise generators
because he could feel the audio emptiness just ahead of him. Skunking
forward cautiously, he entered the empty room. His Sentinel sight, already
compensating for the darkness inside the building, drew unerringly to the two
small devices sitting in the corner.

One was the white-noise generator. The other had a timer that said less than a
minute remaining and counting down.

Jim knew what that meant. His yell splintered the silence inside the building.

"There's a bomb! It's going to blow!"

* * *

Back in the loaner, Blair continued to drum his fingers nervously on his thighs.
His dark blue gaze darted from the streets to the building back and forth. Then
he finally made up his mind. He was not going to leave his Sentinel in there
unguided. He grabbed the cell phone and all but tumbled out of the loaner in
his haste.

He had barely taken three steps when he was grabbed from behind. The hand
clamping over his mouth sent fissures of fear shooting through his body. Acting
on pure instincts, he began to struggle.

//Ssh...ssh. I'm not here to hurt you.//

For some unknown reasons, Blair felt the reassuring goodness in that voice.
He ceased struggling, not realising what had just happened. He tentatively
pulled away; the arms releasing him easily enough. Turning around, he was
astonished to find that it was a woman smaller than him who had ambushed
him. Man, if the situation wasn't so tense, he would find it embarrassing.

"Is there anyone in the building?" she demanded.

"Yes. Why?"

She paled. "They have to get out of the building now. There's a bomb in there!"

Blair gaped at her. "What?!"

"It's going to go off any minute!"

Blair whirled and ran towards the building, yelling all the while. "Jim! Get out of
the building now! There's a bomb in there!"

"No! Don't go near there!" The woman yanked him back. She was surprisingly
strong for her small build.

Blair stumbled, falling to the ground on his rump. He scrambled to rise, freezing
when he locked eyes with the woman. All thoughts fled his mind, so intense
and compelling was her gaze.

//Stay here. Or better yet, go back to the truck and stay there.//

He wanted to protest, try to insist that his Sentinel needs him. But there was a
strangely compelling look in those eyes. His protests died and Blair Sandburg,
for the few times in his life, stayed where he was told. Sitting on the cold road
on his butt, numbly watching as the woman raced on and disappeared into the
building.

* * *

Taking the stairs two at a time, McKennitt was glad when her sight decided to
help her out this once. She negotiated the rotting steps nimbly, without her
flashlight. The crazily bobbing light was giving her a headache anyway. But of
course, all good things never last.

Her sight fritzed out again, throwing her off-balance. She missed a step and
tumbled, one foot going through the rotting plank. She tried to yank her foot
out, but it was stuck.

"Shit!"

Jim, who was right behind her, knelt down and tried to free her foot.

"Get out of here, Ellison." She hissed through teeth gritted with pain.

"No. I'm not leaving you behind." Jim stomped on the rotting plank but it would
appeared that only that section was rotten because the plank held.

"Just go, damn it!" She snarled, trying to free her foot.

"Jamie!"

Jim jerked around when he heard the shriek. A woman, long reddish-brown
hair flying, burst into the building and practically flew over to them.

McKennitt's jaws dropped. "Ariel?"

The woman felt her trapped foot. "You're stuck!"

Jim roughly hoisted the woman to her feet, provoking an outraged shout from
McKennitt. "Let her go!"

The Sentinel ignored her. "There's a bomb in here, lady! Get out of here now!"

"No, you get out of here! I can free myself!" McKennitt yelled back even as she
tried desperately to free her foot.

The woman locked eyes with Jim. //You heard her. Go!//

Jim hesitated. Her voice was compelling but he was much too stubborn to heed
it.

//I said GO!//

Caving in, Jim finally turned and sprinted for the door.

The woman turned back to the trapped McKennitt, hunching down to touch her
trapped foot. There was an invisible hold grasping the foot by its ankle,
refusing to let go. Nothing she can't handle.

//This is one of his traps, Jamie.// She explained even as she deftly freed
McKennitt's ankle.

//The Boss? But he's dead.//

//No, not dead. There, you're free!//

McKennitt didn't waste time talking. Grabbing the woman by her arm, they
raced for the entrance. The detective hoped they would be able to make it in
time.

* * *

Still sitting where he had fallen, Blair saw Jim bursting out from the building.
Relief flooded him but he didn't move from his spot. Even when his Sentinel
stopped just across the street away from the building, clearly waiting agitatedly
for McKennitt to exit, he still didn't move. It was as though he was outside his
body, watching through a stranger's eyes.

Then the woman and McKennitt dashed out into the open, the female detective
yelling at Jim to clear to a safe distance. Blair sat frozen to the spot as he
watched the two desperately fleeing the building. They had barely crossed the
street when the building exploded.

"Jim!"

Shocked out of his paralysis by the explosion, Blair leapt to his feet. Heat and
shock wave blasted past him, but he paid no heed to them. He ran towards his
partner knocked down by the explosion. Man, oh man, ohmanohman, the
explosion could just overwhelm his Sentinel.

Skidding to a halt, he fell to his knees by his partner's side. He reached out
trembling hands, checking to see if his Sentinel was hurt.

"You all right?" he asked anxiously. "Jim, are you all right?"

Jim blinked and shook his head, dazedly sitting up. "Yeah, just one hell of a
headache. My ears are ringing."

"Turn your hearing down, Jim." Blair instructed calmly, even though he was
feeling anything but calm. "Turn it down until the ringing stops. Is it better?"

"Much. Thanks, Chief."

Jim got up to his feet, Blair giving him a helping hand when it seemed he was
about to lose his balance again. He scanned the area, searching for McKennitt
and the mysterious woman. He found them and his heart sank.

"Call 911, Chief." He hurried over to the stricken McKennitt cradling the limp
bloodstained body in her arms in the middle of the road.

"We got a civilian down."

———————————————————————————————————

Interlude

"Boss? It's me."

"They're not dead."

"Um, no, sir. I think Glassner tipped them off."

"Glassner? As in Ariel Glassner?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know what she was doing there?"

"No, sir. But she was badly injured by the explosion. Do you want me to finish
them off?"

"No, leave them alone for now. I want you to silence Slip instead."

"Sir?"

"You heard me, Marisa. Just do as I bid now."

"Yes, Boss."

Click. Pause.

"Fillmore."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"I have a task for you."

———————————————————————————————————

Cascade General Hospital
Saturday morning - 2am

Captain Simon Banks of the Major Crimes Unit hates rushing down to the
hospital in the wee hours of the morning because it only meant one thing: his
people were once again hurt in the line of duty. He had paid so many visits to
the hospital he swore he could find the operating theatres blindfolded. And
from past experiences learnt the hard way, he just knew who he would find.

Turning the corner, he found Jim waiting in the designated visitors area. He
pounced on his detective without preamble, driven by concern and worry.
"Ellison! Are you all right? "

"I'm fine, sir."

For a heartbeat, Simon wondered if he was lying. He couldn't see the other half
of his best team anywhere nearby. *Nah,* he dismissed the thought just as
quickly. *If Sandburg was hurt, Jim would be out of his mind already.*

"Where's the kid?"

"Sandburg's okay, Simon. He's with McKennitt down at the ER."

"Is she hurt?" Simon asked sharply.

"She got a nasty gash on her head."

"Then why are you here instead of down at ER?"

"Well..."

Simon braced himself for the bad news when Jim unconsciously assumed the
military at-ease stance. His best detective always did that whenever he was
about to drop some bad news into his lap.

"Spill it," he ordered roughly.

Obediently, Jim gave his captain a quick run-down of the attack. Simon's scowl
darkened at every minute as the story progressed. He glared at Jim, who was
although tall and big, was still shorter than him. One of his few advantages
when he has to give his best but difficult detective a dressing-down.

"I thought I specifically told you and McKennitt to stay away from each other."

"Simon, she needed backup on the fly. Who am I to refuse a fellow cop's
request for aid?"

"Even if the both of you can't exchange a couple of sentences without winding
up in a fight?"

Jim kept his mouth shut. There was no way he could deny that they had nearly
quarrelled several times during the stakeout. If it hadn't been for Blair running
interference, the stakeout would never have happen. On hindsight, that was
probably a good idea, well worth any reprimands they would get later.

"Who's the civilian?"

Jim's gaze drifted to a spot behind Simon. "That one you got to ask McKennitt."

Simon turned around to see both McKennitt and Blair approaching them.

Unlike the others in Major Crimes, he knew precisely what he was getting when
he approved McKennitt's transfer request to his unit. She was a good detective,
second only to Jim. Stable, logical, and always cool-headed. Unlike Jim, who
was the previous 'Lone Wolf', McKennitt didn't instil fear in her co-workers.
Rather she was just cold and aloof.

McKennitt's appearance was rumpled and sooty. Her hair was in a wild mess,
partially obscuring the plaster on her forehead. Her face was very pale; her
eyes wild with barely restrained agitation. And that sounded Simon's alarm like
nothing else would. The detective was actually on the verge of falling apart.

"Is she out yet?" she asked Jim anxiously.

Jim shook her head.

"How are you feeling?" Simon questioned.

McKennitt distractedly ran a hand through her black hair. "I'm fine, I think."

"McKennitt, who's the civilian?"

"Ariel Glassner," McKennitt answered absently. She moved closer to the
operating theatre, eyes fastened on the closed doors. "My best friend and
partner."

Partner? They exchanged baffled looks. McKennitt didn't have a partner.

"God," she muttered under her breath. "it's all my fault. I shouldn't have been
so careless."

"It's not your fault." Blair countered soothingly. "No one could foreseen what
would happen in the building."

McKennitt gave a bark of humourless laughter, a cutting sound directed at
herself.

"You just got to think good thoughts, okay? The doctors are doing their best in
there."

"She tried to shield me from the blast. Her entire back is perforated with
shrapnel from the explosion. One of her lungs was punctured. She lost too
much blood, she flatlined twice on the way to the hospital. And you want me to
think good thoughts?"

"He meant well, McKennitt." Jim stepped in quickly before she could take her
anger out on his partner. "Why don't you take a seat?"

"I do not want to take a seat!"

"That's enough," Simon's authoritative voice cut through the rising argument
before it could get started. "Sit down, McKennitt. That's an order. And try not to
provoke her, Ellison."

"Simon, Jim doesn't mean to -" Blair's voice trailed off under the police
captain's glare.

"Don't say a word, Sandburg." Simon warned. "I don't even want to know how
you talked him into this."

"I just called 911," Blair mumbled lamely. He hushed quickly when Simon shot
him another glare.

Assured that order was restored again, Simon turned his attention to his
detective. "Jim, you said that you received a tip-off about Robertson making an
exchange down there."

"Yeah, but the bomb wasn't directed at him. In fact, I don't think there was any
actual exchange scheduled."

"You mean it was a trap?" Blair paled. "For you?"

"And possibly for McKennitt," Jim added.

"What makes you think it was a trap for the both of you?" Simon asked.

"Whoever he was, he was using white-noise generators."

"What?" Blair gaped at his partner in shock.

Jim explained what he sensed in the building. "There's no other explanation for
it. Unless McKennitt's a Sentinel too. Which I'm not about to believe."

Blair ran a hair through his hair, indication of his agitation. "Man, oh man, this is
not good."

"But how would they know that you'll be there?" Simon pointed out logically.
"McKennitt received the tip-off this evening before asking for your help
probably at the last minute. There's no way they could have predict that you'll
be there."

"Unless McKennitt engineered it," Blair muttered.

Jim shook his head. "No, as much as I hate to admit it, McKennitt's not
crooked. Beside when - what's her name?"

"Glassner," Simon supplied.

"When Glassner showed up from nowhere to rescue her, her reaction was
genuine."

Jim studied the distraught McKennitt sitting rigidly on the plastic chair some
distance away from them. Her gaze was fixed to the floor, her fingers laced
tightly together in her lap. Jim's expression softened. He had been in her shoes
before, several times in fact.

"Look at her. If she really engineered the whole thing, she wouldn't fall apart
when Glassner was injured trying to protect her."

"So what you're saying that someone used her to get to you," Simon realised.

"More or less. I think her snitch got a lot of explaining to do."

"Do you know where to find him?"

"No. But she does."

"Whoa, Jim." Blair was quick to stop him. "I don't think it's a good idea for you
to approach her."

Jim gave him an exasperated look. "Come on, Chief. I'm just going to ask her
one question. I'm not going to start a quarrel."

"I just don't think she's in the right mood to talk to you, big guy. Why don't you
let me do the asking instead? Okay?"

Jim sighed. "All right. I'll be listening."

Blair took a deep breath and quietly sat down beside McKennitt. This close to
her, he could see the lines of tension in her pale face. Her tightly-laced fingers
were white.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"Not good."

"She'll be fine," Blair consoled. But his words sounded false even to his ears.
"You got to believe that."

McKennitt inhaled deeply, as though sucking back in her soul-deep distress.
She forced herself to look calm, even though she was a jumble of jittery
nerves. "What do you want, Sandburg?"

"I need to know where to find your snitch."

McKennitt looked at him. "You don't think my snitch's behind this, do you?"

"I think your snitch has double-crossed you."

She shook her head in disbelief. "After I saved his sorry ass? I'm going to kill
him."

Blair shivered at the venom in those last words. Thank God Jim was going to
do the interrogation. He didn't want to think what would happen if McKennitt lay
her hands on her snitch.

"Can you tell us where to find him?"

"Chain 'Em Hang, off Marx Road. Ask the bartender for Slip's whereabouts. He
always knew where Slip is, even when his pub is packed. Slip has a double-
heart tattoo on his right forearm. Keep your eyes on him while you're talking to
him. He has a tendency to slip away when you least expect it."

The OR doors swung open. McKennitt sprung to her feet when she saw Ariel
Glassner being wheeled out. The unconscious woman was closely followed by
a doctor wearing a blood-stained gown. McKennitt pounced on him, while the
others gathered round.

"How is she?" she demanded.

"You are-"

"Detective J.E. McKennitt. How is she, Doctor?"

The doctor took off his surgical gloves. "She's a very lucky woman. If we hadn't
got to her in time, her lung would have collapsed. She'll make a full recovery in
time."

"Can I see her?"

"Detective, the patient will be unconscious for days. Wouldn't it better if you
question her when she wakes up?"

"I'm not here to question her," McKennitt bristled. "I'm her family."

"Oh. My apologies, Detective. If you can wait until we've hooked her up in the
ICU, I don't see why you can't see her."

"I'll wait then."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me."

"I thought you said she was your best friend," Simon pointed out when the
doctor was out of earshot.

"My best friend and family," McKennitt replied distractedly, looking down at her
clothes. Under her breath, she mumbled, "I got to change my clothes. She
doesn't like blood." She took a few steps, then paused. "Ellison?"

"Yeah?"

"Find the bastard."

———————————————————————————————————

Chain 'Em Hang, off Marx Road
Saturday morning - 2:40am

The loaner truck slid into an empty parking lot a stone's throw away from Chain
'Em Hang. The place was still jamming, loud music spilling through the door
opening every now and then. There was a long queue of leather-wearing
partygoers lined outside the entrance.

"Definitely not closing time yet," Blair commented from his shotgun seat. He
turned worriedly to his partner. "You sure you don't want me to go in there with
you? I mean, being inside a packed pub is a sure way of getting your senses
overloaded."

"I'm sure, Chief. In a crowd like that, you'll stand out like a target for them." He
looked pointedly from the leather-clad crowd to his partner's hippie
appearance. "Get what I mean?"

Blair gulped. He got what he meant all right, and it was not a pretty picture.
"Right. I'll stay in the truck."

"Good for you."

Jim got out of his loaner truck with a quiet sigh of relief. It felt good to be able
to stretch his long legs. Blair may make his complains heard to anyone who
care to listen and sympathise. But Jim, on the other hand, liked to think that he
could take a little discomfort. Still, driving in a cramped loaner, especially
without shock absorbers - was a bit much. He can't wait to get his Expedition
back from the shop.

He swiftly crossed the street towards Chain Em' Hang. Bypassing the queue,
he headed straight for the entrance. At first the bouncer refused to let him in,
forcing him to flash his badge.

"Yeah, right." The bouncer snorted. "Do you have any idea how many fake
badges I've seen tonight? Go line up."

Jim's already stoic countenance turned even colder. "Do I look like I'm here to
enjoy myself?"

The bouncer visibly wilted under the stony glare. "Um, sorry, detective. Just
doing my job."

Jim gave him another glare for good measure and entered Chain 'Em Hang.
With skills honed from long practice, he turned his senses down to prevent
being overwhelmed by the congested atmosphere of the pub. It was dim and
smoky inside Chain 'Em Hang. And the crowd...well, he don't really care all that
much for the crowd.

He was keenly aware that he stood out like a sore thumb, with his black leather
jacket, grey sweater, dress slacks and shoes with white socks. White socks
that had his colleagues commenting quietly when they thought he wasn't
listening. They found the image of the tough-as-nail, hard-ass cop wearing
dorky-coloured socks...odd.

Jim firmly brought his mental wanderings to a halt. He was thankful his Guide
was not in here. He had worked this kind of crowd before in Vice and learnt
how to play it cool. But Blair hadn't, with all his vaunted knowledge. If he was
here...that was something Jim didn't want to think about.

He pushed his way through the crowd wearing leather in varied fashions, some
rather explicit, to the bar. "I'm looking for Slip."

"So?" the bartender grunted. "What do I look like to you?"

Jim fished out a twenty and held it out with two fingers. "Someone who knows
where he is."

The bartender took the twenty. "Go straight to the back, last booth on your
right. Man with the double-heart tattoo on right forearm. Can't miss him."

The pub was deeper than it looked from outside. By the time he found the
booth, he was deep amongst the crowd. Slip was in the booth, resting his head
face-down on his folded arms on the table. A leather fedora was perched
precariously on his head.

Jim frowned, his cop instincts flaring up again. He extended his senses, doing
a quick sweep over the booth. His wariness changed into alarm when he
realised he couldn't hear a heartbeat from Slip. Springing forward, he lifted Slip
by his shoulders. The wide unseeing eyes told him what he already knew.

"Damn."

* * *

"There goes our only lead." Simon lit his cigar, wondering absently if it was
going to be one hell of a weekend.

"I smelled a trace of cyanide on his lips," Jim said, folding his arms. "Probably
dead before he even knows it."

Blair's brows furrowed in puzzlement. "I don't get it. How could someone get
whacked in a public place, and no one notice?"

Jim gestured to the leather-clad crowd watching the police at work. "These
people were probably too wrapped up in their own business to notice someone
getting poisoned, especially if it was done subtly."

"Detective, Captain," an uniformed walked up to them, "we might have a
witness to the murder."

They followed the uniformed to one of the pub's patron, a dark-haired woman
wearing something that made Blair wondered if it offered enough protection
against the rainy chill of Cascade spring. Jim and Simon, seasoned cops as
they were, didn't bat an eye.

"I'm Detective Ellison," Jim introduced himself. "This is Captain Banks and my
associate Blair Sandburg. Can you tell us what you saw?"

"Well, I was at the table next to Slip's booth when this absolutely fabulous-
looking babe walked in."

"Can you describe her?"

"Well, raven hair, great body. She obviously worked out. With her kind of face,
she could've been a supermodel."

"What makes you notice her beside her appearance?" Blair asked, curiosity
getting the better of him.

"Her clothes. She was wearing sweater, jeans and boots, all in black. You don't
really find people wearing non-leather clothes in a place like this."

"Was she carrying any weapons?" Jim asked.

"I don't know. She was carrying this silver briefcase, though."

"What did she do?"

"Well, she went over to Slip's booth and sat beside him. Couldn't hear what
they were saying, not that I bother to. I have better things to do. When I look
again, she was gone and Slip was resting his head on the table."

"Thank you," Jim said and turned back to the uniformed. "Get her statement
down, will you?"

"Could she have something to do with the explosion on Graham Street?" Simon
pointed out as they walked away.

"McKennitt's snitch fed her wrong information, we were almost killed, he was
silenced. At this point, I'm not denying the possibility."

"But why would anyone want you dead?" Blair questioned. "Could it be an old
enemy of yours?"

"Possibly. On the other hand, it could be a common enemy of mine and
McKennitt. She was targeted as well, you know."

"But this is your first time working together with her. How many enemies can
you make since seven o'clock today?"

"What about Glassner?" Simon asked. "How did she know there was a bomb in
the building?"

They fell silent. The captain had brought up a relevant point. Glassner was the
only unknown in the equation, and she could be holding the key to the entire
mystery.

"Look like we've to make a trip back to the hospital," Jim murmured.

Blair frowned. "Jim, she's in no condition to answer our questions."

"But we can talk to McKennitt," Jim told him. "They seemed very close.
McKennitt could probably tell us what she knew about Glassner."

"Then get on it, Jim." Simon ordered. "I want to know who's after my detectives
ASAP."

"You got it, Simon."

Simon ground out his cigar as he watched his best team trotted quickly over to
their loaner truck. Knowing them, they would probably solve the case by
Monday. That means, he would be on call as well for the rest of the weekend.
He sighed, feeling a pang of regret when he realised it meant that he couldn't
spend as much time as he wanted with his son.

"Yep," he muttered to himself. "Definitely going to be one hell of a weekend."

———————————————————————————————————

Interlude

"Marisa?"

"Fillmore? What the hell are you doing here?"

"The Boss sent me."

"What? To do my work for me?"

"No, he knows better than that. I'm here to fetch something for him."

"Stick to your job, runner, and I'll stick to mine."

"Actually, I need your help."

"Now you do."

"Don't be snippy, Marisa. I know you've been working for him longer than I've
been. That doesn't mean you should treat me like a second-class."

"Can't help it, Fillmore. I'm in a bad mood. What is it you need me to help you
with?"

"I need you to lure someone away from my target."

———————————————————————————————————

Cascade General Hospital
Saturday morning - 3:10am

The Intensive Care Unit was very quiet in the wee hours of the night. The
silence suited McKennitt just fine as she kept vigil over her sleeping
companion. Her senses have finally decided once and for all to kick back on-
line permanently. She sat there, extending her senses to monitor her
companion's condition.

Ariel looked so fragile lying in the hospital bed on her stomach. Her entire back
was swathed in bandages. Her delicate features were turned towards her, an
ashen contrast against her reddish-brown hair. The surgeon had to cut her
waist-long hair that was hampering his movements during operation.

Sitting beside her bed, McKennitt gently smoothed the ragged tresses from the
pale face. Under her sensitive palm, Ariel's skin was cold. She then carefully
cradled her limp hand, feeling the pulse beating weakly against her fingers.
McKennitt was exhausted and thirsty from a long night and talking endlessly to
her comatose companion. But she refused to budge, knowing just how much of
a comfort her presence was to her.

"Why are you here?" she finally asked the question that had been haunting her
ever since they met.

"I thought I specifically told you not to follow me. You have a life and a family
back home, Ariel. You can't afford to come traipsing after me whenever the
mood hits you."

She squeezed Ariel's limp hand almost fiercely. "Damn it, pagan. Don't you
know you can't go back home ever again? What am I talking? You never do as
I told you, especially if you've a damned good reason not to."

She squeezed Ariel's hand firmly. "Just start healing, okay? I know you're
terribly weak right now, but take my strength. I'm here, and I'm not going
anywhere."

A faint smile crossed her face when she felt warmth sparking between their
hands. There was a tingle in her palm as Ariel drew upon her strength.

"That's it," she murmured encouragingly. "Take as much as you need, pagan."

Above her, the reassuring beeping of the monitor skipped a heartbeat.
Simultaneously, beneath her fingers, she felt Ariel's pulse did the same.
Alarmed, she reached for the caller that would bring the nurse running. She
stiffened when she felt an invisible feathery touch against her cheek.

//Jamie...//

"Ariel?"

Her astonished gaze darted back to Ariel's face, but she was no longer seeing
through her own eyes. Frozen, she was helpless to prevent the gentle tugging
at the edge of her mind. Without warning, she was pulled from her body, and
zipped through the hospital, down to the parking lot at a vertiginous pace. She
came to a dizzy halt somewhere above the parking lot, and watched as
Ellison's loaner truck pulled in. It was then she noticed something else, a
shadow waiting amongst the shadows.

"Detective?"

McKennitt jumped when she felt herself being shaken. She shoved against the
presence beside her, springing to her feet, ready to attack. She heard a
scream before her mind caught up with reality. She blinked, realising she was
back in the ICU. A terrified nurse cowered away from her.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

She glanced back at Ariel still sleeping peacefully in the hospital bed. A smile
graced her stern face when she realised what had just happened, quickly
fading as the seriousness of the situation took over.

"I'll be back, pagan. Don't die on me while I'm gone."

* * *

As the loaner truck pulled into the hospital parking lot, Blair suddenly felt eyes
watching him from behind. Turning around, he peered through the cab window,
straining to see in the dark.

Jim noticed his strange behaviour. "What's up, Chief?"

"Just this really weird feeling that someone was looking at us." Blair shrugged.
"Probably just my imagination."

Jim glanced at the rear view mirror, using his senses to probe the parking lot.
"There's no one there, Chief. Then again, with the kind of trouble you attract, I
won't be surprised if there was."

"Ha, ha. Very funny." Blair got out of the loaner, slinging his backpack over his
shoulder. "I can't help it, can I? Especially since I have you as a partner."

Jim quirked his eyebrows in mock astonishment. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. You get into trouble about as often as I do. Remember Colonel
Oliver? What about that business with Lee Brackett? Let's not forget the Juno
case while we're at it. Man, talk about being in two places at the same time."

"So we're the Trouble Magnets of Cascade. How does that make you feel?"

"Truthfully? Like I'm wearing a huge target on my chest and back all the time.
But as long as I have you, I'm not going to worry about it every moment of my
life."

Jim smiled, not the reserved Ellison smile, but a broad grin of genuine
affectation that few people ever saw. "You got that much faith in me, squirt?"

"Yeah, I do. You're my Blessed Protector, right?" Blair flashed him a megawatt
grin.

The parking lot was dark, but Jim had unconsciously compensated for the
darkness. That was the only reason why he saw the glint of reflection from the
corner of his eyes. Normally, that would garner a second look from him before
he reacts. But tonight proved to be anything but normal.

"Down!"

Without bothering to double-check, he grabbed his Guide and shoved him to
the ground. He heard the crack of an assault rifle and felt the spray of bullets
whizzed past over his head, barely missing him by inches.

"Shit!" Blair yelped. Together, they scrambled to hide behind the car parked
next to the loaner truck. "Who the hell is that, man?"

"Beats me." Jim ducked instinctively as shot peppered the other side of the car.
He could feel the vibrations from each individual bullet lodging into the metal
surface through his back. He dug out his cell phone and all but tossed it to his
partner. "Call for backup."

Blair fumbled open the cell phone and dialled the three-digit number. Jim had
his gun out and he was listening for the pause in the gunfire, indicating that the
shooter was reloading.

*That's it.*

Jim twisted around, rising to his knees, and let loose his return fire. Being a
crack shot, he had no trouble aiming for the shooter. He heard a startled gasp,
muffled by the distance, and the sound of someone tumbling to the ground.
Automatically, he looked in that direction, easily piercing through the darkness
with his Sentinel sight.

He saw a raven-haired woman in black picking herself up from the ground. Jim
recognised her from the description the pub patron had given him. One of her
arms hung uselessly by her side. Her assault rifle rested on top of a car and
she was attempting to reach for it.

"No, you don't." he growled.

He realigned and fired again. This time close to her reaching hand. She hastily
pulled it back again. He fired a few more shots for good measure, before
ducking back down.

"Backup's on the way," Blair informed him. He flinched and hastily covered his
ears again when gunshots split the night again. It took him a moment to realise
that whoever it was wasn't firing at them. "That was fast."

Jim risked a look over the car's truck again. "It's not the backup, Chief. It's
McKennitt."

The other detective was advancing towards the shooter from the direction of
the hospital. It didn't take him long to figure out how to pin the shooter down.

"Marisa!" McKennitt shouted from her cover. "Drop your weapon right now!"

"Not in this lifetime, Ellison!"

Ellison? Both Jim and Blair looked at each other with similar expression of
bewilderment.

"I thought her last name's McKennitt," Blair whispered.

"We'll figure that out later." Jim risked another look over the top of the car.
"Stay here, Chief."

Blair watched anxiously as Jim crept from his cover and noiselessly detoured
around to advance on Marisa's blind side. He cautiously peeked above the
car's truck, but in the dim lighting, he couldn't see much of anything.

At least we got a name to match the face, he thought irrelevantly.

"You hurt either of them, and you'll pay for it!" McKennitt was yelling.

Marisa laughed, an ugly sound. "I do my job right, you won't even have time to
say goodbye."

Blair shivered. Whoever the shooter was, she was clearly dangerous and
apathetic. Not the choice of word he cared to use, but it described her best. He
suddenly stiffened. From past experiences, he knew the hard coldness digging
lightly into his neck could only belong to one thing.

"Don't move," said a quiet voice very close behind his ear. "Come with me
quietly and I won't hurt you."

Blair gulped. "All right, all right. Take it easy, man. I'm not going to run."

"Good. Oh, by the way, my name's Fillmore. Nice to meet you, Professor
Sandburg."

"Too bad I can't say the same," Blair replied through suddenly dry lips. "You
can just call me 'Sandburg' though. I haven't earn that PH.D yet."

"I'm afraid not. You see, the Boss instructed me to treat you with the utmost
courtesy. That involves the mode of address. Now do come along with me,
Professor."

"Right."

Blair obediently did as he was told. As he was led to a waiting ambulance - of
all things - he whispered a Sentinel-soft plea to the air.

"Jim, help me."

* * *

All the skunking skills Jim learned in the Army had not gone to waste when he
joined Cascade PD. And it certainly served him well now, as he stealthily crept
up to the shooter from behind her. The shooter, with all her attention focused
on McKennitt, never sensed his approach.

"Freeze." Marisa did freeze, hearing the telltale click behind her. "Now turn
around. Slowly."

She turned, her pale almost colourless eyes glaring daggers at him. Jim frisked
her efficiently, relieving her of the two magnum 44s. she was packing.

"Nice weapons," he commented. "Too bad you won't be needing them where
you're going."

"Jim, help me." The soft plea reached Jim's ears.

"Blair?" Distracted, Jim made the mistake of taking his gaze away for an
instance.

Marisa struck, her leg kicking upward, connecting solidly with his gun hand.
Jim grunted, feeling his entire wrist go numb, but he still held on tightly to his
gun. She struck again, this time sweeping a roundhouse kick right into his face
before he could block it.

Jim staggered, falling backward from Marisa advancing towards him. From the
corner of his eyes, he saw McKennitt tackling the woman, landing on Marisa
like the proverbial ton of bricks. The detective was angry and she let it showed
through the punches she threw.

Hoping that McKennitt would be able to keep the perp in line, Jim got up and
dashed across the parking lot to where his Guide was being held. In the
distance, he saw Blair being shoved into the back of an ambulance.

"Jim! Help!"

Blair struggled to break free, but his kidnapper hit him once over the head.
Limp and unconscious, he was bundled unceremoniously into the ambulance.

"SANDBURG!"

The ambulance screeched as it thundered down the parking lot, tires
screeching. Jim skidded to a halt directly in its path and opened fire. The
careening vehicle showed no sign of slowing down, and at the very last
moment, the Sentinel had no choice but to leap clear of danger. Rolling to
break his momentum, he was up on his feet in a heartbeat. His eyes never left
the speeding ambulance as he sprinted through the parking lot, hoping to cut it
off at the entrance.

The ambulance came to a screeching halt and someone jumped out, racing
towards McKennitt still grappling with Marisa. Taken by surprise, McKennitt
could not defend herself from the sneak blow to her back. She staggered,
falling when she was punched in the stomach.

Jim poured on more speed, determined to reach the ambulance before it speed
off again. He hastily threw himself behind some parked cars when Marisa
scooped up oen of her magnums and fired in his direction. When he got up again,
they had boarded the ambulance and it was pulling out of the parking lot
burning rubber.

Raging and panting, Jim could only watch helplessly as the hijacked
ambulance sped away with his Guide in it. In the distance, he could hear
backup arriving. Late, as always.

"Damn," McKennitt wheezed as she painfully climbed to her feet, still bent
double over with pain.

Jim finally turned his attention to her, giving her a helping hand. "Are you hurt
badly?"

"No. They got Sandburg, didn't they?" It was more of a statement than a
question.

"Yes."

"Shit."

"They also kidnapped someone else." Jim looked at her meaningfully, waiting
for the realisation to sink in. "I caught a glimpse of reddish-brown hair before
the doors close."

McKennitt paled. "Ariel."

———————————————————————————————————

Interlude

"We got them, Boss. They are now in a safe location."

"Excellent. Is Sandburg unhurt?"

"Well...I did have to knock him out a bit. For a small guy, he struggles a lot. But
he'll be all right. The woman still lives. But I don't know for how much longer."

"It doesn't matter. I only need her alive for a short while."

———————————————————————————————————

Somewhere in Cascade
Saturday - time unknown

The first thing Blair felt when he regained consciousness was the dull throbbing
at the back of his head. Next thing he was aware of was the cot he was lying
on. He slowly sat up, gingerly feeling the bump on the back of his head.

*Ow,* he winced. *That's a large bump I've got.*

His head swam when he was finally upright and settled down into a dull
headache somewhere behind his eyes. His body, though stiff, was not bruised
or hurt in any way.

The room was stark, windowless and clean, lit only by a naked bulb. His cot,
though narrow and uncomfortable, was also clean. He got up stiffly and walked
over to the heavy metal door. He rattled the doorknob but it was locked as
expected.

Blair sighed and leaned against the door, taking several deep cleansing
breaths to clear his mind. He heard a soft steady beeping and realised abruptly
he was not alone. There was someone else in the room as well, lying in an
identical cot on the other side of the room.

Blair frowned when he saw the medical set-up surrounding the second cot. To
his utmost chagrin, he could actually tell that the array of medical equipment,
though resembling those in the ICU, was nowhere even close to the
sophistication found in a hospital. He had spent way too much time in the
hospital.

But who would need all these equipment in the first place? Curious, he went
closer to the cot. His eyes widened when he recognised the occupant.

*Ariel Glassner? What the heck is she doing here?*

———————————————————————————————————

Major Crimes, Cascade PD
Saturday - 7am

"Hey, Jim?"

The detective wearily raised his head from his desk. Joel Taggart winced in
sympathy at his unshaven and haggard appearance. Even though it was a
Saturday morning, everyone in Major Crimes had heard about the double
kidnapping. Taggart was one of them, and he decided to forego his first off-day
in two weeks to help Jim. After all, he was among their closest friends, and he
knew the detective could use all the support he could get.

Taggart gave him a thin brown folder. "The report on the shoot-out at the
hospital parking lot."

"What does it say?"

"Forensics found slugs from your gun, the assault rifle and a magnum 44.
There was no fingerprints on either the assault rifle and the remaining magnum
44 left on the scene. They did find traces of blood, but without a suspect to
match, it's useless."

"A dead end," Jim interpreted.

"That about sums it up. We also questioned the hospital staff, especially those
on duty in the ICU. The nurse wasn't at her station when it happened, and no
one else on the night shift noticed when Glassner was taken."

"Surely someone must have seen them leaving, Joel." Jim insisted. "The
hospital's mostly quiet at night. A patient being wheeled down the corridor must
have attracted some attention."

"If the kidnappers did masquerade as nurses wheeling a patient through the
hospital, no one saw them."

"What about security cameras?"

"It would take some time for the hospital security to release the tapes." Taggart
paused, then decided to take the plunge. "Where's McKennitt?"

Jim rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling his headache acting up again. "She's
getting the forensics report on the explosion."

"The two of you are primary on this case?"

"Surprised?" Jim asked wryly.

"You can say that, Jim. Don't mind me saying, but you two don't seem able to
get along without starting a fight."

"We got added incentive to call a truce," Jim responded acerbically.

Taggart leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "Just to let you know,
there's a bet going to see how long it'll take before you two call it quits."

A glimmer of humour brightened Jim's glacial eyes, as he knew it would. "So
how much is my co-operation worth to you?"

Taggart looked at him innocently. "What makes you think I'll bet on such a
thing?" Then he turned serious. "Jim, if you need any help, just tell me, okay?"

"I will. And thanks, Joel."

"You're welcomed, Jim."

As Taggart headed back to his desk, Jim flipped open the folder and scanned
through the report. A frown of frustration knitted his brows.

It was impossible to believe that they couldn't identify the woman named
Marisa. They have her name, her face and even a sample of her blood. Yet a
ran through the police database and DMV turned up nothing. It was as though
she didn't exist.

Another brown folder landing on his desk caught his attention.

He looked up to see McKennitt standing before his desk. She had freshened
herself, but it could not hide her pain and exhaustion. She was holding herself
up at a slightly peculiar angle, evidence of the brutal beating she had taken
from Marisa.

"Forensic report from the explosion," she explained.

Jim gestured for her to take Blair's chair. "Anything?"

McKennitt shook her head, gingerly folding her body into the chair. She let out
an involuntary sigh of relief at the support beneath her.

"Not really. The building literally collapsed into a pile of rubbles," she finally
answered. "It would take some time for the Bomb Squad to separate the bomb
fragments from the building. I'm thinking of letting Taggart take a look at it
though."

McKennitt spotted the other folder on Jim's desk. "Is that the report on the
shoot-out?"

Jim silently passed her the folder. He watched her covertly as she read the
report, discreetly monitoring her body responses. He refused to believe that
Marisa didn't exist because McKennitt sure as hell recognised her. That much
he gathered from their shouted conversation in the parking lot. He had a
suspicion that McKennitt knew what was going on.

"There's something I don't understand about this case," he began casually.

"And what's that?" McKennitt asked, still reading the report.

"Why do all the clues lead to one conclusion."

"Aren't clues supposed to do that?"

Jim continued as though he had not heard her. "That you know what's going
on."

Triumph rose in Jim when he detected her heartbeat speeding up even though
she appeared unfazed outwardly. Score one for him. She did know what was
going on. But when she finally looked at him, her expression remained calm.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked in a measured voice.

Jim leaned forward. "I'm saying that you know who the hell took Sandburg and
Glassner."

"I'm as much in the dark as you are."

"Bullshit," Jim snapped. "You know a lot more than you let on, McKennitt. I
want you to tell me."

"I have enough of this." McKennitt stood up, wincing at the twinge of pain in her
flank. "Don't make accusations you can't prove. I don't take kindly to it."

Jim doggedly followed her as she crossed the bullpen to her desk.

All around them, people scurried to give them plenty of room. They could all
feel a storm brewing, a storm involving Jim and McKennitt. Their last
confrontation still fresh in their minds, nobody wants to be near when the two
clash again.

"I heard the conversation in the parking lot. Who is Marisa? How come a
criminal of her calibre doesn't exist in the records?"

"You're asking me?"

Jim grabbed her arm and roughly yanked her to a stop. "Yeah, I'm asking you.
My partner's life's at risk, damn it."

McKennitt glared back at him, chin jutting out defiantly. "In case you haven't
notice, Ellison, they took my partner as well."

"Glassner? Who is she, McKennitt? How did she know about the bomb in that
building? Is she behind this as well?"

Fury flared in her dark eyes. McKennitt shook off his grasp and stepped right
up to him, almost nose-to-nose.

"You leave her out of this, Ellison." She hissed angrily. "In case you haven't
notice, she almost died warning us about that bomb."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jim knew it was a low blow. But the
Sentinel in him was much too worked up with worry and fear about his Guide,
and he threw caution to the wind. His cold stare bore into McKennitt,
undaunted by the rising hostility he saw in her.

"Could be the plan backfired on her." Jim's eyes narrowed. "You're hiding a lot
of things, McKennitt. One might think you're one of them."

"Go to hell."

Jim's reply was swift and to the point. "Not before you tell me what you know."

That was the last straw. McKennitt's tenuous hold on her rage broke.

"Tell you what?!" she yelled into his face. "That these people want you dead?!
That they are holding the ones we love as a safeguard against us?! That our
hands are tied?! Is that what you want me to tell you?!"

Dead silence descended in the bullpen. Everyone froze, looking on with
nervous fascination. No one move as both detectives locked glares in a battle
of wills. The tension in the bullpen rose another notch.

"Why do they want me dead?" Jim continued, his voice stony.

"Back off, Ellison." McKennitt warned. "There're some things you're better off
not knowing."

But Jim was persistent and hard-headed. He doesn't give up easily, especially
when it was his Guide's life on the line, especially when he sensed that she
knew more than she was letting on. He reached out to grab her arm again.

This time, McKennitt lashed out. The brown folder dropped to the floor, as she
whipped around like a snake. Slapping away his outstretched grasp, her fist
shot out like a battering ram and cracked him soundly on the jaws. Things got
messy from there onwards.

"Jesus!" Taggart saw what was happening and dashed over, as did half of the
staff in the bullpen. "Cut it out!"

Everyone, realising that things had got way out of control, rushed to separate
the two combatants. It took three of them to forcibly restrain Jim and two for
McKennitt.

"Easy, Jim. Easy now," Taggart soothed. "Think about Sandburg. He need you
in one piece."

Taggart's words got through to the big detective, as he hoped it would. Jim
took a deep breath, stomping on the angry red haze threatening to overwhelm
him. He silently berated himself for losing control in such a spectacular fashion.
God, he going berserk ain't going to help Sandburg in the slightest.

McKennitt, on the other hand, looked ready to tear his throat out if she wasn't
restrained. The glint in her eyes was feral, as she glared at him. Poor Rafe
looked as though he wished he was somewhere else instead.

Jim heard a disapproving growl. Blinking, he looked down and saw a sight he
never thought he would see. He blinked again in astonishment.

Two black panthers occupied the distance separating him from McKennitt. He
recognised the one closest to him as his Spirit Guide. But the other...either he
was hallucinating from a total lack of sleep, or he was seeing a second Spirit
Guide.

What the hell...?

Jim closed his eyes, certain that he was going mad. Then he looked again. His
Spirit Guide growled again, staring at him straight in the eyes. There was a
message in those yellow orbs. A message for him, which Jim had no idea what
it was about. He was definitely not in the mood for some mystical advice from
an imaginary animal.

He glanced around, hoping that no one else could see the two animals in the
bullpen. No one else did...except for McKennitt. She was having a staring
competition with the other Spirit Guide. Like a faucet being turned off, her
maddened fury suddenly dissipated to be replaced by a despairing fear as she
averted her gaze away from the imaginary animal. The second panther then
nodded its head, grunting approvingly.

"What the hell is going on in here?!"

Simon's familiar bellow drove all thoughts of Spirit Guides from Jim's mind. He
straightened immediately, pulling his stone-cold mask in place. Likewise,
McKennitt swiftly gathered herself, shaking off the helping hands. She stood
ramrod straight, not looking at anyone in particular.

Simon scowled menacingly, as he took in the tableau. It didn't take him long to
put together what had just happened. He stabbed a finger in Jim's and
McKennitt's directions respectively.

"The both of you in my office. Now!"

* * *