Blair set the papers on his desk and leaned back in his chair, eyeing the student seated across from him. David Claymier had been an A student all semester, but in the last couple of weeks, his grades had taken a sharp drop. A sophomore and a member of the wrestling team, Claymier had surprised Blair with his hard work and quick understanding of anthropology. Now the student fidgeted nervously in his chair.

"Is there something I can help you with? You've been doing so well, I'd hate to see your grade drop so late in the semester."

"No, sir. I just got a little distracted. I've had some personal things..."

The large young man rubbed his hand over the stubble of his blonde hair. Blair waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"Look, David, the grades you've been getting are lousy, but if you work your butt off for the rest of the semester, you may be able to salvage a B."

"OK." David didn't seem too enthused.

Blair studied the young man closely. He'd seen students with drug problems before, and David didn't seem wasted. Something was bothering him, though. Blair's first instinct was to give him a break. One of his professors had been fond of repeating the saying, 'Give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile.' ad nauseum, but Blair hadn't believed it was true. Now that he was more involved with students, he had to admit that it sometimes was. He'd heard some amazing excuses for late assignments. This time he believed that David really did have some personal problems.

"I know someone who's available for tutoring if you need it, or maybe I can work with you..."

"No, no. I'll get my grades back up, I promise. I was just hoping you could get the grade dropped on my last test. I wasn't feeling well the day I took it. Maybe you could let me take it over."

Blair recognized the lie as soon as it was out of the kid's mouth. This was one of those things about teaching that sucked. Some days he wished he could spend the rest of his life just doing research. He looked at the papers on his desk as if somehow they would give him the answer.

"I can't do it, man, I'm sorry. If you bring your grades back up and turn in that paper, I'll see what I can do, but you've gotta pull yourself together. You're not going to get passing grades for work you didn't do."

Head hanging, the student picked up his backpack and turned to go. Blair heard him mumble, "Thanks for nothing," as he walked out the door.

Jim was watching football when Blair came home. Dropping his backpack next to the door, he headed straight to the fridge and grabbed a beer. Twisting off the cap, he took a long drink, walked over to the couch and plopped down, sighing heavily.

Jim pressed the mute button on the remote. "Bad day, Chief?"

"Yeah."

The anthropologist was quiet for a moment, and Jim thought he might avoid hearing about it. He silently berated himself. Friends listened to each other. It was just that Blair could be long-winded at times.

Blair shook his head. "You know how I've been filling in for one of the professors while he's on leave?"

Jim nodded his assent.

"Well, one of his best students just took a nose-dive. I don't understand it. One day he was an A student, the next he can barely put a sentence together, can't get his assignments in on time, and his test scores suck."

"Drugs?"

"I thought of that, but I don't think so. He's on the wrestling team, and the university is pretty vigilant about drugs these days. They don't want any bad publicity. Besides, I haven't seen any signs of it."

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Maybe he had a fight with his girlfriend, or his goldfish died. He's not saying anything, so I can't help him." Blair sighed again and took another swig from his bottle.

Jim sat up and looked at Blair. "You sound like you feel guilty about this. It's not your problem, you know. Your his teacher, not his baby-sitter."

"I know, but I hate watching him screw up like this."

As Jim watched his friend sit morosely, worrying about his student, he thought about Blair's propensity for becoming emotionally attached. It was his greatest weakness, and left him open for pain and heartache, as Jim had witnessed himself on more than one occasion. It was also one of the reasons that Jim liked him. Then again, Blair's openness had been an asset on certain occasions. It was easy for Blair to befriend perfect strangers and make them feel comfortable, not to mention talkative. There had been times when Jim had wished that he could connect with people the way that Blair did. This was not one of them. He was sure that his friend would end up entangled in this student's personal problems at some point.

One week later, Blair was administering a test, when there was a knock on the door. Blair climbed the steps of the classroom and opened it a crack. Two burly looking young men stood outside. "Yes?"

A tall young man with a thick neck, short brown hair and a nose that looked as though it had been broken a few times said, "We're here to see David Claymier."

Blair was a little annoyed at the interruption. "Hey, I'm sorry man, but he's in the middle of an exam. If you wait another 15 minutes, class will be over."

"We really need to talk to him. It's an emergency."

They were obviously David's teammates. The one who hadn't spoken before tugged on the other's arm. "C'mon, Stu. It can wait."

Stu yanked his arm away, and glared at his friend. "No, it can't!"

Blair saw that some of the students were looking up at the commotion. "What kind of emergency?"

"It's personal."

"Then it's gonna have to wait for few more minutes, OK?" Blair started to shut the door.

"Screw this." The wrestler shoved the door open, pushing Blair back, and said loudly, "Dave, get your ass up here!"

Blair lost his cool. "Out! Right now. And you better hope I don't report you, Mr. Thompson." He remembered the wrestler's name.

Stu put his hands up in the air, backing out the door and smiling at the much smaller man.

"OK. OK. Sorry, I'm leaving." His grin widened as David Claymier brushed past, his books in his arms.

"David." Blair put his hand on his student's arm.

"I finished the test, it's on your desk." David didn't make eye contact as he said it, and then shrugged Blair's hand away as he followed his teammates out the door.

"Argh!" Blair growled in frustration. As he had expected, David's test was a disaster. The scene in class today had convinced him that somehow his friends on the wrestling team were responsible. A few quick phone calls to some colleagues revealed that the story was the same in all of his student's classes. If David's grades continued the way they were going, he would not only fail the class, he would lose his wrestling scholarship. Blair rarely got involved in the personal lives of his students, but David Claymier had been an exceptional student with a lot of potential. It gnawed at Blair, and he began to believe that it would be a personal failure if David flunked out.

Blair shrugged on his coat and dialed Jim's mobile number, while checking the student directory for David Claymier's dorm address.

"Ellison."

"Hey Jim."

"What's up, Sandburg?"

"Just checking in. I'm going to be a little late tonight."

As Blair picked up his keys, he heard Jim ask, "Going somewhere, Chief?"

"Yeah. Remember that student I told you about last week? The one who suddenly started to flunk out?"

"The wrestler?"

"Yeah, him. Well, I'm going over to his dorm. Maybe if I talk to him on his own turf he'll open up more."

Jim laughed and Blair imagined him shaking his head in disbelief. He was always accusing Blair of getting too personal. "Just don't make him mad."

"Yeah, right." Blair hung up and headed across campus, praying that his car would make it. He'd checked Stu Thompson's name in the directory as well. David and Stu were roommates.

As Blair arrived at the dorm and climbed to the second floor he heard heavy metal being played so loudly that he felt the vibrations in his feet. Walking down the hall he realized that the sounds emanated from David's room. Blair liked to listen to loud music, as Jim could certainly attest to, but this was truly ear-splitting. It would have been pointless to knock, so he opened the door and stuck his head in, just in time to get hit in the head with a nerf football. Two young men he didn't know were wrestling on the floor. One had the other in a headlock. The thrower of the football was another stranger. As Blair looked at him, he saw him mouthing some words that looked like an apology. He was tempted to turn the stereo down, but he didn't think it would be appreciated. Looking at it, he realized it was a nice system. Probably had cost the owner a couple of grand. A large Sepultura poster hung on one wall, and there was an expensive looking television and laser disc player in one corner. Empty beer cans covered every horizontal surface, and the whole place smelled of stale beer, fast food, and dirty laundry. The bunk beds had been shoved into one corner, and there was no sign of any desks or books. As one song ended, Blair used the brief silence to yell, "Where's David?"

Headlock looked up and mouthed, "Library", as the wail of electric guitars began again. Blair gratefully retreated to the relative silence of the hallway.

"No wonder he's failing." Blair thought as he headed toward the library, deciding to walk the short distance. It was a clear cold night, and Blair pulled his jacket shut to keep out the wind. Blair was a little surprised at David's living arrangements. He was a sophomore with, up until now, excellent grades. Usually kids that lived in that type of environment didn't do so well. He wondered how long David had been living there, and if that were the cause of his falling marks.

Blair walked into the busy library, noticing at once the student curled up asleep under a display case. It was not an uncommon sight. It was probably the only way the kid could get any sleep. Blair wouldn't have been surprised to find David doing the same thing. He walked up and down stacks and past rows of tables, looking for his student. When he failed to find him on the first floor, he climbed to the second. It was much quieter up here, and there were carols that were relatively secluded. He finally found David, hunched over a book, his hand holding up his head. It took Blair a moment to realize that the young man was dozing. He debated for a moment, and then gently touched his arm, "David?"

David's chin slipped off of his hand and he looked up, startled. "Wha..?"

"Oh, sorry man, didn't mean to scare you."

"Mr. Sandburg? What are you doing here?" The young man looked confused and quickly closed the book he had been reading.

"Oh, just getting some books for my thesis. I saw you here, and I thought maybe we could talk a little bit more."

"Why?" David immediately sounded suspicious.

"To be honest, because I can't stand watching you screw up like this. You're a good student and I want to help you, if I can."

"Hey, look," David gathered his books and stood, not meeting his eyes. "I told you I would work harder, and I'm going to. Why don't you just leave me alone?"

"I told you why. Hey, if it's a problem with roommates, or something, I can try to get your housing reassigned..."

The wrestler looked up quickly. "What makes you say that?"

So much for little white lies. "OK. To be honest, I stopped over at your dorm to have a talk with you. It was pretty wild over there, and..."

"Hey, you had no right! I don't know you!" He pointed his finger at Blair's chest. "And you sure as hell don't know me!"

"Hey, man, I only want to help you..."

David stood inches from Blair and he could feel the young man's breath on his face. "Back off, you understand me? Don't get involved in something you can't do anything about." He stood back, and suddenly his shoulders dropped and he looked defeated. "No one can do anything about it. Look, I appreciate the thought, but..."

Stu Thompson suddenly appeared. "Oh, isn't this cozy. Getting some private tutoring, Claymore?" He chuckled sarcastically.

"Mr. Thompson." Blair put as much authority as he could muster behind the greeting. He didn't like being intimidated by Stu, even if the guy was twice his size.

"Hey, sorry, sir, but David's got a hot date. Can't stand around chatting about man-eating pygmies all night. He'll be in class bright and early tomorrow, don't you worry."

Stu's tone of voice was incredibly patronizing. Blair was starting to get really ticked off. "I don't know what your problem is, but you better get a handle on it..."

"Or what? You'll get me kicked out of school? You don't have the pull, and I know you can't take me on, dwarf." He stood slightly on his toes so that he could look down on Blair from above.

Blair was tempted to invoke Jim's name, tell Stu he had a friend on the police force, but that would be like hiding behind a big brother. He didn't want his partner to fight his battles for him. "Aren't you a little old to be playing the neighborhood bully?"

Stu reached out and shoved Blair back against the stacks. Blair reached out to keep from falling, knocking several books to the floor. Stu lifted his fist, and Blair braced for a blow, but David pulled him away. "Let's go man, we've got things to do."

"Go run home to mommy, now, little boy." Stu sneered as he turned and headed out of the library.

Jim watched silently as Blair methodically opened cupboard doors and slammed them shut hard, apparently looking for something, although Jim suspected he was just blowing off steam. Finally, he grabbed a container out of the refrigerator and tossed it in the microwave, stabbing at the buttons. When he turned, scowling, he found Jim standing in front of him.

"Got it out of your system, Chief?"

"What?" The anthropologist glared at him.

"I take it your meeting didn't go well?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Blair walked past him towards his room.

"Not so fast." Jim grabbed his arm. "It's just going to eat away at you, so why don't you spill it?"

Blair sighed in exasperation. Jim grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and nodded toward the couch. "C'mon." As he passed the microwave, which Blair had set for 99 minutes on high, he turned it off.

As Blair reluctantly relayed the events of the evening, Jim was feeling several things at once. On the most basic level, he wanted to find this Stu character and beat the crap out of him for humiliating Blair the way he had. He knew that Sandburg wouldn't appreciate that sort of help, though, and it would no doubt add to his embarrassment at being pushed around by college bullies. On a cop level, he sensed that something was up with these students. Probably something illegal. Stu and David's behavior and the new electronics in the dorm room set off red flags. As a friend, he wanted to tell Blair that this was what came from sticking your nose into someone else's business, but that would have been pointless. Blair was never going to change, and Jim really didn't want him to.

Jim couldn't do anything to protect Blair emotionally, and if he followed through on the physical level, he would stir up more trouble than he wanted to deal with. There was only one way he could help his friend. "Sounds to me like your student is involved in something illegal."

"I don't think he wants to be. What do we do about it?"

"Some detective work. I'll run their names through the computer tomorrow and see if I can come up with something. It's doubtful, though. You can ask around, see if anyone's heard any rumours about these guys, who else they hang out with, etcetera."

"Sure." Blair was beginning to perk up.

"Try to be subtle, Chief."

Blair rolled his eyes.

Jim couldn't find any information on David Claymier, but there was something on Stu. He'd had a juvenile record at one time, but it had been sealed when he turned 18. He'd also been accused of assault a little over a year ago, but the charges had been dropped. He called a friend of his over in Juvenile, and found out, off the record, that Stu Thompson had been involved in a rather elaborate breaking and entering operation in high school. They'd broken into the houses of several teachers and students, hauling off about ten thousand dollars worth of merchandise, little of which was recovered. Stu was only 15 when the crimes were committed, and because most of the other boys were older, Stu had only received 2 months of house arrest and probation. Then he'd been arrested for drunk driving while he still had his learner's permit, and hadn't been able to get a driver's license until he was 18.

Blair arrived at the station shortly before noon. Jim filled him in.

Blair sat on the edge of Jim's desk. "I found out some things, too. David and Stu hang around with another guy named Michael Gruber, also a member of the wrestling team. I checked with some of his teachers, and he's one of those borderline students. Straight C's all the way. He works just hard enough to stay on the team."

"Anything else?"

Blair became more animated, "Yeah, some really interesting stuff. They hang out at a place called Guido's Sports Bar. It's not on campus."

"Yeah, I've heard of it. It's a hang out for bookies and gamblers. The place has been raided a few times."

"That's not the best part. I talked to my friend, Peggy, in the finance office, and she told me that David hasn't been able to pay his tuition this semester. He asked for an extension. He's got a partial scholarship, but apparently his parents aren't well off. Peggy said this is the first time he's ever had trouble paying."

"You mix together the gambling, the bad debts, and Stu's history of B and E and your friend is in one heap of trouble, Sandburg."

"How are we going to get him out of it?"

"Maybe we can't. If we could get him to cooperate with us..."

Blair ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh, yeah, he's going to be eager to confess to me when I tell him that my best friend the cop and I have been investigating him."

Jim smiled. So Blair considered him his best friend. "Well then, we set a trap for them, and they all go down. It's all the same to me." He knew Blair didn't want his student to be arrested, but it was too late to do nothing now.

"Let me think about it, OK?"

"Sure, Sandburg. But I've filled Simon in and we need to follow up on this soon." Jim paused, then grinned. "So... Who's Peggy?"

Blair's face colored slightly. "Oh, she's about 101 years old. She's worked in the finance office since the dawn of man."

"Then why are you blushing?"

Blair cleared his throat and stared fixedly at a spot on the ceiling, an embarrassed smile on his face. "She has the hots for me."

Jim laughed. It never ceased to amaze him. Blair seemed to attract women of all ages and types without trying.

"You're a real babe magnet, Blair," he teased.

Blair sat in his office considering his options. He could work with Jim, find out what the wrestlers were doing. It would probably be something illegal and then Jim would have to arrest all of them, including David. On the other hand, he could try to talk to David again, get him to be honest with Blair. Convincing him to help catch the others would be a Herculean task, though. Or, he could just drop it, and pretend nothing had ever happened. If he asked Jim not to pursue this, he probably wouldn't, out of friendship. There was no evidence that any of them had broken the law, just a hunch. But it was a good hunch, and it wouldn't be fair of Blair to ask the detective to just ignore it all. In any case, ignoring it wouldn't solve anything. David would still be failing, and in trouble.

Finally, he made a decision and dialed David's dorm. He wasn't in, but Blair left a message for David to meet him at his office at six o'clock tonight. After careful consideration, he didn't invite Jim to the meeting. It would be hard enough to get a word out of his student without a detective lurking around. He dialed Jim and asked him to come to the office at seven, so that they could discuss the case. Really, he hoped that David would have decided to cooperate by then and they could form a plan of action.

The anthropologist spent the rest of the afternoon grading papers and working on his thesis. He became so engrossed in a new experiment that he was developing for Jim, that he barely noticed when the meeting time came and went. At 6:30, he realized that David wasn't coming. Either he hadn't received the message, or he was blowing it off. Blair wasn't ready to give in just yet. He put on his jacket and hastily scribbled a note to Jim.

Blair pulled his car into a space on the second story of the parking garage. As he was walking towards the exit, he heard hushed voices somewhere above him. It sounded like arguing. He stood still for a moment, listening.

"Shut up, man, you want the whole damn dorm to hear us?"

"If you think this is so easy, you do it."

Blair walked cautiously toward the source of the voices.

"You're gonna wreck it, man. We can't sell it if you break it getting it out."

"Screw you. You do it, Stu!"

Blair heard the loud echo of metal clattering on the concrete floor. Then he heard David's voice.

"I don't like this, man. It's too early. Someone's gonna catch us. You guys are making enough noise to wake the dead."

Blair began to walk slowly up the ramp to the next level, trying to stay concealed behind the parked cars.

"Quit your whining, Claymore. You want to pay Bob off, or not?"

"Yeah, let's just do it, OK?"

Blair knew he was very close to the voices now, so he crouched behind a yellow Hyundai and slowly peeked around the corner. Three young men, varying in height but all very muscular, with the same buzz haircut, were gathered around a beat up looking Pinto, busily engaged in removing an expensive looking car stereo. Blair immediately recognized them: David Claymier, Stu Thompson and Michael Gruber. David stooped down and picked up a crowbar from the cement floor. He glanced around nervously, eyes flitting past Blair and back again in an instant.

"Oh, shit."

"What's your problem, now?" Stu stood up angrily, and looked at his teammate.

David Claymier pointed to the now empty space next to Blair's hiding place. "Mr. Sandburg..."

Blair's heart was pounding as he ran back to his car. Surely they wouldn't chase him, but he wasn't taking any chances. The three young men outweighed and out muscled him many times over. He put the key in the ignition, and backed up quickly. No sign of anyone following him. Driving with one hand on the wheel, he groped in his backpack for his cell phone. Just as he found it, he looked up and saw a car in his rearview mirror gaining on him fast. He dropped the phone, turned quickly in a U and took the ramp that led back to the higher floors. No way was he going to outrun anybody in his heap of junk. Suddenly he saw someone step out from behind a pillar wielding a crowbar. There was a deafening boom as his windshield exploded. Just as suddenly, he came to a halt. It took him a moment to realize that he had hit another car. Blair reached for the door handle, just as it was pulled open with great force. Hands gripped his jacket and threw him on the hood of the car.

Stu Thompson leered at him with mock concern. "You OK, Mr. Sandburg? We heard the crash and rushed right up."

Blair tried to remove the massive hands from his jacket, but couldn't budge them. "I'm sure the whole campus heard it. This place will probably be crawling any second."

"Yeah." Stu smirked, pulling Blair from the hood and brushing small chunks of glass from the anthropologist's jacket. He spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. "These parking garages can be pretty dangerous. Strange echoes in here, too. Sometimes people hear things, but usually they're mistaken."

Michael Gruber stepped up. He put his face an inch from Blair's, saying. "The last person that heard things here got so scared, he jumped from the top of the garage." He shook his head sadly, "It was a terrible tragedy."

Blair laughed. "You guys sound like extras in a bad gangster movie." He was amazed at how often his mouth operated while his brain was disengaged.

Stu pulled his fist back and punched Blair in the stomach. Doubling over and falling to the ground, unable to get his breath, Blair wished someone would happen upon the scene and call for help. His wish was answered.

"Oh my god! Is he all right? Should we call for an ambulance?" Blair saw several young women rushing up with concern.

"Nah, there's no need. Our friend had a little too much to drink and wrecked his car. Why don't you all go, I don't think he wants you to see him hurling."

Blair struggled to catch his breath, and tried to say something.

"Gross." One of the girls made a face as they all turned and hurried away.

It was then that Blair noticed David, who had been hanging back, step forward and whisper something to Stu. As the wrestler released him momentarily to lean back and talk, Blair scrambled up and started to run. He was tackled from behind, and someone put him in a headlock.

Stu kicked the car viciously. "That's just great! What are we gonna do now?"

Someone (was it Stu?) mumbled the word "sleeper," and the arm around his neck tightened. Blair heard David yelling, "What the Hell do you think you're doing, Mikey?" Instinctively, Blair pulled his arm back and jammed his elbow into the man's stomach, twisting to loosen his grip. He heard the young man curse in pain and felt him press harder on Blair's throat. Desperately he pulled at the arm, trying to remove it. As the blood flow was cut off from his brain, he saw black spots swimming in front of his eyes. There was a terrible pain in his head, and he couldn't breath. Unable to think, his survival instinct kicked in and he struggled violently, trying to yell, but only managed a weak strangling sound. Darkness began to cloud his vision and he went limp.

Suddenly he was released. He felt hands under his arms and around his legs. He was being carried. Pain returned to his head as he was unceremoniously dropped. Blair's vision cleared just in time to see a trunk lid closing on him. The engine started and he felt the car in motion. He began to pound on the lid of the trunk, trying to shout. "Help! Someone help me!"

Feeling the turns as the car descended to the parking garage exit, he mustered all of his energy, yelling as loudly as he could, slamming his knees against the trunk lid. Someone in the car turned on the radio full blast. The car stopped briefly, and he heard the scream of a siren. Blair continued to yell and pound. They were moving again, out of the parking garage. Something hard was digging into his back. It seemed as though he had been yelling for several minutes when the car screeched to a halt. He heard a door open, and keys in the trunk lid. Blair tried to position himself to kick at the person who opened it, but it was too cramped to maneuver. As the lid opened, Blair saw the night sky, felt fresh air, and, before he could move, felt Stu's fist connecting with his face.

Jim arrived at Blair's office half expecting to find David Claymier in the midst of a full confession. He had suspected that Blair was trying to talk to the young man on his own. Instead he found a short note: "Gone to find David, be back shortly. - Blair"

Seeing the terrible clutter of Blair's office, Jim realized that his friend must be exerting an amazing amount of self-control at the loft. It took the detective several minutes of intense searching to find the student directory. Eventually he found it in a large stack of papers which was supporting several ceremonial artifacts that Jim couldn't begin to guess the significance of.

As Jim drove over to the dorm, a carload of students passed him with their music at full volume. Jim nearly wrecked putting both of his hands over his ears. An ambulance pulled into the parking garage ahead of him, followed by two campus police cars. He stepped on the gas and hurried inside, flashing his badge at the campus cops. Rounding the corner to the second level of the garage, he caught sight of Blair's car, its front end crumpled where it had connected with a small yellow Hyundai. Several city police officers were already there. The detective turned to one of the cops. "Where's the driver?"

"Missing in action." She nodded toward three young women standing a short distance away and related their story. They had been outside the parking garage when they heard the crash, and rushed up to find out what was going on. They found the wrecked cars and four men. Three big athletic-looking guys were standing around one smaller one with long hair, who was kneeling on the ground holding his stomach. When they asked if he needed an ambulance, the athletes had told them not to bother, that their friend was really drunk and was about to be sick. The young women left, but one of them had a bad feeling and decided to call the police. When the police arrived, they found that Blair's windshield had been shattered by a crowbar and a nearby vehicle had been broken into. A stereo was found half-pulled out. They believed that the driver of the car had happened upon the robbery and had been attacked, possibly abducted.

Jim gave the officer Blair's name and description and the names of the three wrestlers, and ordered the scene to be sealed off and an all points put out on them. If anything happened to his partner, he wanted to be sure no evidence was destroyed. As he walked around the car, looking for clues, something began to nag at him. Something he had seen... The car that had passed him on the road! There were three men in it, fitting the description the young women had given. Their car stereo had been extremely loud. Why? To cover up the sound of something else? Blair had told him once that he heardJim gave the officer Blair's name and description and the names of the three wrestlers, and ordered the scene to be sealed off and an all points put out on them. If anything happened to his partner, he wanted to be sure no evidence was destroyed. As he walked around the car, looking for clues, something began to nag at him. Something he had seen... The car that had passed him on the road! There were three men in it, fitting the description the young women had given. Their car stereo had been extremely loud. Why? To cover up the sound of something else? Blair had told him once that he heard everything, he just needed to filter the unwanted parts out. Jim wished his guide were here now to help. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, removing each layer of noise from his memory. Electric guitars, drums, vocals, keyboards, the ambulance siren. There was something else there that didn't fit. A pounding that wasn't in time with the music. The voices of the students. It was extremely difficult for him to pick out the words. He needed Blair. "Sandburg... locked room." They were taking him to a locked room? Where? If he could only concentrate more...

"Detective Ellison, are you all right?" The female officer was gently shaking Jim's arm. He pulled himself back into the present.

"I'm fine, I'm fine."

"You didn't answer the first few times I talked to you. I was getting worried."

"It's OK, I was just trying to remember something." And all at once he knew where Blair was.

The place stunk of sweat, mildew and Ben-Gay. It didn't take Blair long to realize that he was in a locker room. His legs and wrists were bound with medical tape, and his mouth had been stuffed and tied with gauze. The three wrestlers were having a heated discussion.

"No way, Stu. I ain't killing anybody. We were just stealing stereos. We'll probably get probation, and maybe kicked out of school, but it won't be the end of the world. I wasn't doing so hot anyway."

"You are a wuss, Mikey boy. We'll have a criminal record if we give ourselves up. Our lives will be royally screwed. Who cares about some nerd teacher? We'd be doing the world a favor by killing him. He was flunking Claymore anyway."

David piped up. "Murder? No! That is too messed up. We never hurt anyone before."

"Messed up?" Stu's voice began to rise. He paced the floor, glaring at his friends. "Messed up? We friggin' kidnapped someone! This isn't petty theft anymore, boys. We beat the crap out of a guy, stuffed him in the trunk of my car, and drove off with him. Tell me you think we'll get probation for that, especially if his friend is a cop." He turned and slammed his fist into a locker.

Blair was having trouble grasping the situation. How did they know about Jim? David must have heard about it in class. Was that what he'd been whispering to Stu before they'd kidnapped him? It dawned on him that these guys were deciding whether or not to kill him, and it didn't sound like it was going in his favor. If only he could talk to them. He struggled to his knees and tried to speak through his gag.

Stu saw him and rushed over, grabbing Blair's collar with one hand and holding the other in a fist over Blair's face. "You want me to pound you again, geek?"

David walked over and pulled his friend's arm away. "Let him talk. If we're gonna kill him, he should at least have a say. No one's going to hear him."

Stu glared, "Fine, let him talk."

David removed the gag, lifting Blair to a sitting position on a bench. As he looked at the wrestlers, he realized that his right eye was almost swollen shut. Stu had clocked him pretty good. Blair cleared his throat. His mouth was dry and his voice hoarse from yelling. "Killing me is only going to get you in deeper."

Stu rolled his eyes, "Here it comes. Did your cop buddy teach you hostage negotiation techniques?"

Blair made an effort to sound calm and reasonable. "No, but I told him where I was going."

"Bull! You're just lying to save your scrawny butt." He walked menacingly towards Blair. "I say we snap his neck now and get it over with."

David blocked his path, he seemed to be growing more bold. "Let him finish."

"You have roommates. You tell them what your plans are, don't you? I mean, aside from the times when you're planning robberies." The last comment was dripping with sarcasm. Why did he always turn into a smart aleck when he was afraid?

"Yeah, so what did you tell him? 'Hey, cop, I'm going to catch some thieves, I'll be late for dinner.'?"

Blair decided honesty would work the best. "No, I told him I was going to talk to David."

"So what? You never made it to Claymore's dorm. You disappeared out of the parking garage. Nothing connects us to you." Stu sounded proud of his reasoning.

"You mean, aside from those three girls? I told Jim about the incident in the library. He knows all about you, Stu."

"You're a liar, Sandburg."

"Let's see. You were arrested in high school for robbing your teacher's houses, then you lost your driver's license for drunk driving... Oh, and didn't you get arrested for assault just last year? Then there's the gambling..."

Stu slammed his fist into the locker again. It was getting a nice sized dent in it. "Doesn't prove anything."

Mikey had begun pulling at his hair, pacing nervously back and forth like a cat in a cage. "He's right. We're hosed. This is the stupidest thing I've ever done." He put his hands against the wall and began banging his head slowly against the cement blocks.

David was strangely calm, almost relieved, "That's it then. We have to let him go and turn ourselves in. It's that or spend the rest of our lives in prison."

A thought suddenly occurred to Blair. "Hey Stu, did you leave a crowbar with your fingerprints all over it in my car?"

Stu screamed in rage and lurched at Blair, picking him up and flinging him against the lockers. Blair felt daggers shoot through the back of his head as it hit metal. Stu's face was purple, his eyes red and watery as he pulled Blair back and slammed him again. Blair mentally braced himself for another blow, wincing as he was yanked forward again. He watched as David shoved Stu away. Blair collapsed to the floor.

"Stu, cut it out man! You're a raving lunatic. It's your fault we're in this deep! If you hadn't gone after him in the parking garage, it would have blown over. Now we're felons, you sonofabitch!"

As David pushed Stu to the other side of the room, Stu knocked his hands away. He looked as though he were deciding whether or not to hit his friend. Shrugging sullenly, he said, "Like hell it would have blown over. He recognized us."

Mikey had started crying, looking accusingly at Stu. "What am I gonna tell my family? I got into some gambling problems, so I started ripping off car stereos, and before I knew it I was killing helpless college professors? My mom is gonna love that!"

Blair's head was pounding and every time he moved it the pain increased, making his stomach do somersaults. He watched as David walked over to the pay phone on the wall and began dialing. Mikey sat on the floor, leaning against a locker. He was still sobbing, rocking back and forth, muttering to himself, "What have I done? What have I done?" Stu stood staring at a space somewhere above Blair's head with a glazed look in his eyes. David hung up the phone.

"I just called the police. They're going to be here in about ten minutes." David still sounded calm as he walked over to Blair, taking out a pocket knife and cutting the tape free from his legs and wrists, but Blair noticed that his hands were shaking. He helped Blair onto the bench again and looked into his eyes. "I'm really sorry, sir."

Blair was used to people not much younger than him calling him 'sir' in class, but suddenly it seemed very strange. "My name is Blair. Thanks." His own voice sounded far away, and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, like a dream.

David looked at Blair closely. "Something's wrong with him. I think you gave him a concussion, Stu."

At David's words, Mikey began to sob more loudly.

Blair's limbs felt heavy. He wanted to lay down on the bench and go to sleep.

Stu seemed to come to a decision. "I'm not going to prison. Screw that! Anybody that wants to come with me, better come now."

Blair was hauled to his feet. He saw David moving quickly towards him. Stu dragged Blair back. "He's coming with me, Claymore. Don't even try it. I can snap his neck in a second and you know it."

An arm around his throat again. Blair was beginning to get irritated by it. What was the fascination these people had with his neck? The pounding in his head was intense. Stu was pulling him through a dark hallway, cursing him all the way. Then they were outside. The cold air brought Blair back to his senses. He noticed that he was being dragged toward a battered blue Impala. As he was shoved roughly against it he heard keys in a lock. He looked over at Stu. Oh no, not the trunk again! He knew he should be trying to get away, but he didn't have the energy. He began to slide slowly down the side of the car. Sitting would be good. Stu yanked him up and dragged him to the back of the car. "You wanna sleep, you can sleep in here."

Stu was standing right in front of Blair when he made the statement, and then abruptly he was gone. Blair laughed, "He disappeared."

Jim saw Thompson preparing to shove Sandburg into the trunk of a car, and rushed up, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck. He pulled the young man's arm behind him and shoved him roughly over to an arriving cruiser, suppressing the urge to do more serious damage to him. When the officers got out he turned the wrestler over to them, then looked over at Blair. He was leaning against the trunk of the car, giggling and talking to himself. Jim wondered if he was drugged.

Simon pulled up and began barking orders at the officers, sending several in the direction of the locker room. He walked over to Jim and followed his gaze. "What's wrong with Sandburg?"

"I'm not sure." He walked swiftly to his friend, noticing his puffed eye. It didn't look too bad. "You OK, Chief? That's a nasty shiner you've got there."

Blair laughed. "How did you do that? Sentinel teleportation? I'm going to have to do some research on that."

"Sandburg?" Simon looked inquisitively at the anthropologist.

"I don't feel so good." Blair suddenly turned and leaned over the back of the car, divesting himself of this afternoon's lunch. Simon quickly walked a few steps away, grimacing, while Jim rested his hand on the younger man's back.

When Blair was done, Jim looked at his eyes. "Did they give you something?"

"What? Like a present?" Blair laughed again. "This is the nastiest headache I've ever had."

Jim slowly ran his hands around Blair's head, and found a large lump.

Blair pulled away from Jim, looking at his friend as though he were insane.

"You've got a pretty good knot on the back of your head, Chief. Let's get you to a hospital." Jim was worried. If the blows were serious enough to cause disorientation and illness, Blair might be in real trouble.

Blair started to giggle. "Jim, there's a lizard in my pants."

Jim smiled, "Sure, Chief."

Simon looked at Jim, raising his eyebrows. "I don't even wanna know."

The corner of Jim's mouth turned up and he shook his head at Simon, as if to say, "You're right, you don't"

The detective turned to his partner, who was swaying slightly, staring off into space. "We don't have time to wait for an ambulance, Simon." Jim put one of Blair's arms around his shoulder and Simon did the same with the other. They half-walked half-carried Blair to a squad car and put him in the back seat.

Simon got into the driver's seat under Jim's protests. "I'll drive. You make sure he stays awake."

Jim got into the back with Blair, who was staring vacantly at the hypnotic glow of the squad car lights. "Blair?"

Blair started, looking at Simon. "Sir, you aren't going make me quit, are you?"

Simon looked in the rearview mirror. "Why would I do that, Sandburg?"

"I screwed up again."

"How did you screw this up?"

"I was stupid, I got caught."

Simon shook his head, "Sandburg, did you go up to the suspects while they were stealing car stereos and announce that they were under arrest?"

"No."

"Well now, that would have been stupid. Give yourself some credit. You stumbled into a bad situation, but it's over and we got the bad guys. We'll go over what happened tomorrow. Don't worry about it now."

Jim was surprised at Simon. A few weeks ago, he never would have been able to picture his captain giving words of encouragement to Blair. Lately, he'd noticed Simon developing a grudging respect for the guy. Maybe he was even beginning to like him.

"You don't like me working with Jim, do you sir?"

"What gave you that idea?" Simon sounded genuinely surprised.

"I'm not a cop."

"Don't worry about it. What I told your mom was true. You've been an asset to the department."

Jim wondered if Blair would be asking Simon these things if he hadn't had a blow to the head. As he looked at his friend he noticed that Blair was losing focus again. His eyes were blinking slowly, and he was looking around as if he wasn't really sure where he was.

"Jim, where are we going?"

"To the hospital. We're almost there, so why don?t you stay awake for me Chief."

Blair opened his eyes wider, concentrating on staying awake. "OK. How did you find me?"

"I heard your friends talking about taking you to a 'locked room'. It took me a few minutes to realize that what they'd really said was 'locker room'"

Blair looked confused. "Heard it when?"

Jim knew talking about his sentinel abilities was sure to keep Blair awake. "They were in their car, they passed me as I was going to the parking garage."

"But the music was maxed, how..."

"I did like you told me, I filtered out the sounds one by one..."

Blair's mouth dropped open, and he grinned from ear to ear. "On your own? That is so cool! Really?"

Jim smiled at his friend, "Really, Chief."

"I'm proud of you, man."

Jim was a little bit embarrassed, but he couldn't help smiling. Nothing ever seemed to keep Blair down.

"Jim, we're here." Simon pulled the cruiser up to the emergency entrance.

Jim jumped out of the back seat, helping Blair out. A doctor was waiting for them with a gurney. Simon had called ahead to prepare them. Simon and Jim helped him onto the stretcher.

"Do you know your name?" The doctor addressed Blair as she gestured to the orderlies to push the gurney inside. Jim recognized her from his years as a street cop.

"Blair Sandburg."

"Do you know where you are, Mr. Sandburg?"

"Peru..." She looked concerned, until Blair smiled and said, "No, I'm kidding. We're at the hospital, right?"

"This is no time for jokes, Mr. Sandburg."

"Sorry. Man, do I have a splitting headache."

The doctor turned to Jim. "Did he ever lose consciousness?"

"I don't think so, Doc." A touch of guilt crept into his voice. "I wasn't there when he was hurt. He's been acting a little strange, though. Disconnected."

As they reached a set of swinging doors that led to the emergency room, the doctor pushed him back. "You know the drill, detective. Wait out here and I'll be out shortly. We'll take good care of him."

Time dragged as Jim waited for the doctor to finish her examination. Simon went back to the station to deal with the three wrestlers. Word was already out about what had happened, and the press had begun to gather. Stu Thompson was the star wrestler on the team, and his mother was a well-known local politician. They were going to have a field day with this case.

Jim felt guilty. He hadn't been able to help Blair at all. The anthropologist had spent a lot of time teaching Jim how to deal with his sometimes unwanted abilities. Jim on the other hand, hadn't spent much time at all teaching Blair about police work. He should have at least showed him some basic self-defense moves, but there never seemed to be time for it. Besides, Blair caught on to police procedure so quickly, sometimes it seemed as if he didn't need any training. Now Jim realized that probably wasn't true. He'd been selfish, wanting Blair to help him but not giving anything in return.

Still, ever-resourceful Blair had managed to save himself, no thanks to Jim. He had talked David Claymier into calling the police and giving himself up. Whatever he'd said hadn't worked with Stu Thompson, though. That guy seemed to have a couple of loose wires.

"Detective Ellison?" The doctor had just come from the room where Blair was being worked on.

"How's he doing?"

"Mr. Sandburg received a blow to the back of his head. His skull hasn't been fractured, but he has sustained a concussion. He's conscious, knows his name, and seems to be aware of what's going on. He's still slightly disoriented, but he should recover. He has no memory of being hit in the head, but that's normal in these cases. Mr. Sandburg say's he'd like to go home, but if he does, I'll need your assurance that you will wake him every hour. You'll need to ask him his name, and otherwise determine whether he's behaving normally. If you see anything wrong, bring him back immediately."

Jim felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Sure thing, Doc. But he's going to be OK?"

"He should be. You'll need to keep an eye on him for the next couple of weeks, though."

"What am I looking for?"

"Mood swings, odd or violent behavior, memory lapses, frequent headaches. Anything unusual. They may be signs of something more serious."

"Checking Sandburg for odd behavior. That should be easy." Simon appeared at Jim's shoulder. "So how is our favorite anthropologist doing?"

"It looks like he's going to be OK."

The doctor looked at Jim and said sternly, "I don't want him to over-exert himself for a week or so, and I want him back tomorrow for a check-up. It may take him a few days to feel himself again."

Jim dreaded the thought of trying to keep Blair calm for a week. It would be close to impossible.

Blair wandered out of the emergency room, holding an ice pack to his eye. "You guys having a meeting without me?"

"We were just discussing your injury. If you start behaving normally, we have to bring you in immediately."

Blair rolled his eyes at Jim. "Ha ha, very funny." He turned to Simon, and almost lost his balance. Jim reached out and grabbed his elbow to steady him.

"Take it easy, Blair. You're supposed to be resting." Jim steered him to a chair, and planted him in it.

Blair looked up at Simon with his good eye. "So what happened with David?"

"Claymier and Gruber are in the midst of full confessions. They should get off relatively lightly. Thompson, on the other hand, is going to be a tough nut to crack. We've got enough evidence against him, including the testimony of his friends, that I'm sure we'll get a plea-bargain out of him before it's all over."

Jim didn't like the sound of that. "A plea bargain? The guy almost killed Blair."

Simon sighed, "I know, Jim. It could go either way. His mother is an influential city council member, with a lot of powerful friends in this town. On the other hand, the press will be screaming for fair play. Either way, Stu Thompson is in a lot of trouble."

Blair spoke up, "David probably saved my life, you know. He called the police."

"I'm sure the DA will take that into account. We're going to need your side of the story, but it can wait until tomorrow. Why don't you two go home and get some rest?"

"Sounds like a good idea." Jim reached out and helped Blair up, noticing that his friend was swaying slightly.

Jim turned to the doctor, who had been standing nearby listening to the men talking about the case. "Doc, you sure it?s OK for Blair to go home?"

"As long as you wake him every hour, like I told you."

"OK, thanks." Jim turned to his captain, "Care to come over for a cup of coffee, Simon?"

"Uh-uh," Simon shook his head, backing away. "Sounds like fun, but I think I'll give it a pass. Sandburg's bad enough when his head's on straight." He was smiling.

Blair frowned indignantly. "Hey, I resent that."

Jim smiled and steered his partner toward the exit. "C'mon Blair, we've got a long night ahead of us."

~~~The End~~~

This story contains violence. It was written in 10/96-11/96

DISCLAIMER: This story contains characters, situations and places from the TV show "The Sentinel" which is the creation of Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo and belong to Paramount Pictures & Pet Fly Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is not to be published on any ftp site, newsgroup, web page, mailing list, fanzine or elsewhere without the express permission of the writer. This story is written for the fans of "The Sentinel" who believe that once a week just isn't enough!

Thanks to my beta's Tigg and BlairBabe.