Simon's Past

by Guenwyvar

Someone's out to kill Simon, and Blair's visions have gotten more complicated. Will Jim and Blair be able to deal with the new developement while protecting Simon? Or will he lose more than just his life? #3 in the visions series

Simon's Past

By Guenwyvar

Disclaimer: I don't own The Sentinel or any of its characters.

Blair Sandburg was sitting in the lotus position on the floor of the loft in front of the couch after having moved the coffee table out of the way to make room for what he wanted to do. There were three white candles sitting on the floor in front of him in a half circle, their soft glow the only light in the waning light of the evening. He had his eyes closed and was taking deep breaths, trying to center his mind in order to enter a meditative state.

It had been a week since his last dream, premonition, whatever it was, and since then he had been doing research on shamans, specifically visions. He was sure that these "dreams" were shamanistic in nature. It was the only explanation. He had never had these premonitions before he received the way of the shaman from Incacha so that had to be it. According to his research, shamans had the ability to call upon a vision in times of need. In order to induce a vision, one had to fast for three days, then drink a concoction of specific herbs, burn some sage, and relax mind and body through meditative techniques.

Blair hoped to be able to induce a vision because he thought it would be useful in the future if he could have some semblance of control over this new ability. He had been planning this for the last week. He knew Jim wasn't going to be home until late tonight so he could burn his sage without irritating the sentinel's senses. He hadn't eaten anything in the last three days, and he had already drunk his herbal concoction. He hadn't been able to get all of the specific herbs needed, but he did get some that he thought were close. Now he was meditating with the sage burning next to him, trying to clear his mind. But so far it wasn't working. He had been meditating for two hours and so far nothing.

Blair's eyes snapped open when he heard a key in the lock. "Crap!" he swore under his breath as he quickly tried to put out the sage just as Jim walked in the door.

The minute Jim walked in he let out a huge sneeze. Putting his hand under his nose, he looked around the loft. He saw the smoke hanging in the air and his friend scrambling to stifle what was obviously the source. Jim knew that smell. Blair had been burning sage in the loft. What was his partner thinking? He knew how sage affected Jim's senses.

"Sandburg, what the hell are you doing?" Jim asked as he closed the door and tossed his keys in the basket.

"Oh man. Sorry Jim," Blair said as he finally succeeded in putting out the sage. "I thought you were working late tonight. I had planned to have this place aired out by the time you got home."

Stifling another sneeze, Jim said, "That doesn't answer my question. What are you doing?"

Blair walked over to the garbage and threw the burnt sage away and then stood in front of Jim. "Well, I was…you know…" he stuttered, shuffling from one foot to the other, "…trying to induce a vision."

"Oh not this again," Jim sighed, walking past Blair.

"Look, I'm sorry Jim," Blair said, turning to follow the sentinel. "You weren't supposed to be home yet. And besides, I think it would be very beneficial if I could call upon a vision when I really need to."

"Look…" Jim said, pausing for another sneeze. With a sniff, he continued, "I'm going to take a shower. This place better be aired out by the time I get out."

"Right. No problem," Blair said, nodding.

Waiting until the bathroom door closed behind his partner, Blair let out a deep sigh. Well, that didn't work, he thought as he blew out the candles and gathered up the remnants of the burnt sage. He threw the sage away in the garbage can and then tied off the bag and pulled it out of the can, placing it by the door with the intention of taking it out to the dumpster later. Then he proceeded to open all the doors and windows to let in some fresh air.

Just as Blair was heading to his room to put the candles away, he was hit with a sharp pain in his head that was so sudden it staggered him. He braced himself against the end of the couch, putting his hand to his head. It was gone in a matter of minutes, leaving him confused and wondering what that was and where it had come from.

Shaking his head, he took a step toward his room when the pain hit again, this time more intense and more painful. Gasping, he grabbed the arm of the couch to keep himself from falling, and then suddenly his mind was filled with all these jumbled images. The images seemed to coalesce into one another so much so that he couldn't tell what they were supposed to be and trying to discern them from one another was just making his head hurt worse. His limbs were starting to feel like jelly as the throbbing pain in head continued to increase until he felt like his head was going to explode. Finally, he just couldn't hold himself up anymore, and he collapsed to the floor with a loud thump. He never heard the thump nor felt the impact as he was unconscious by the time he hit the ground.

Blair was suddenly sitting in a dense forest surrounded by vegetation with a campfire burning brightly in front of him, and the intense headache was gone. But this forest seemed different somehow. There seemed to be a blue tinge to the surroundings like…just like the visions that Jim had described to him Blair realized. He sat up a little straighter as he looked around in excitement. He had hoped to experience a vision like the ones that Jim had described to him. Then he noticed Incacha sitting across the campfire from him looking at him with mild amusement.

"Incacha," Blair said. "Is this a vision?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized what a stupid question that was. Of course this was vision. How could it not be?

Incacha smiled however and nodded. "Yes, Young Shaman. Welcome. It's good to see you again."

"You too, but…what's been happening to me? And how did I get here?" The last thing he remembered was airing out the loft and then this pounding headache, jumbled images, and then he was here.

"What you have experienced so far is just a taste of what you can do," Incacha replied.

"So I was right? I am a shaman?" Blair asked excitedly.

Incacha smiled indulgently. "Yes. A young shaman, but a shaman nonetheless."

"So the visions are a part of me. But why did that last one hurt so much? And why were the images all jumbled together? And why did it come to me while I was awake?" Blair asked rapid fire. Even though he had been trying to induce a vision, he doubted very much that that was what happened.

"As you grow as a shaman so shall your visions. Some will come to you while you're awake, some while you're asleep. Some will be more urgent than others."

"But why did it hurt?" Blair asked.

"The visions that you get while you're awake are much different than the ones you received while you're asleep," Incacha explained. "While you're asleep, the visions can come to you freely much like dreams do. While you're awake, however, your mind is already active, and so the visions have to fight to enter your conscious mind. This struggle can be very painful, and sometimes the images can run together."

"Okay," Blair said, processing this new information. "Then how do I stop it? How do I interpret the visions when they're just a jumbled mess?"

"The relationship you have with your sentinel can help you. Much like you help Enquiry with his senses, he can help you with your visions."

Blair's brow furrowed. He had always thought that the sentinel's role in the partnership was protector. Blair helped Jim with his senses, and in turn Jim acted as Blair's "blessed protector". But what Incacha was saying made a lot more sense. It had Jim offering more to partnership than just protection.

Blair nodded. "Okay. How?"

"Listen to his voice. Feel his presence. He is near you now, and he is very worried. All you have to do is listen."

Blair lowered his eyes. He hadn't meant to make Jim worry. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sounds around him. At first, all he heard were jungle noises, birds chirping, leaves rustling, and then he heard a voice.

"Chief! Are you alright? Come on, Chief. Wake up!"

Ignoring the guilt he felt at making his friend worry, he concentrated on the sound and timber of Jim's voice and let it flow into and around him.

The jungle faded away around him, and he fell into another time and place.

Simon was standing in his kitchen having a very heated conversation with his ex-wife over the phone.

"Look, Joan. I don't care what you say. This weekend is my weekend with Daryl. You can't just cancel on me…Yes, of course I have something planned. What, you think I don't look forward to the time I have with my own son?…Well, then you should have said it was your sister's birthday. We agreed to this weeks ago…Look, Joan. I have to go to work. We'll talk about this later."

Simon hung up the phone with a heavy sigh. Shaking his head in frustration, he grabbed his jacket and keys and headed out the front door. As he was walking toward his car, a black SUV came screeching around the corner. The driver's side window rolled down and the barrel of a gun poked out the open window. Before Simon could react, his body was riddled with bullets from an automatic weapon.

A look of surprise and pain washed over the captain's face as he fell to his knees, a tremendous amount of blood gushing from various holes in his chest. As he collapsed to the ground, his vision began to dim, and the last the thing he saw was the SUV disappearing down the street.

Blair gasped as his eyes popped open, his heart pounding from the vision he'd just had. He saw Jim hovering over him with a worried expression on his face.

"Oh my god, Sandburg. Are you alright? What happened?" Jim asked as he helped the young man to sit up.

"I had a vision," Blair replied shakily as he put a hand to his throbbing head.

"A vision? While you were awake?"

Blair nodded and then regretted the motion as the pain in his head worsened. He groaned. "Oh. I think I need an aspirin."

"Here, sit at the table and I'll get you some," Jim suggested as he helped Blair to his feet and over to the kitchen table. After making sure Blair was seated, he went into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin. "Here, take these and tell me what happened."

Blair accepted the tablets gratefully, and after popping them in his mouth and taking a gulp of the water, he leaned back in his seat. "It was weird," he began. "At first, there was this spike of pain in my head, and then my mind filled with these images. But they were so muddled together, I couldn't tell what they were supposed to be. And then suddenly, I was in the jungle, and Incacha was there."

"You saw Incacha?" Jim asked, surprised. Blair had never such a vision before. Jim was usually the one who had those kinds of visions.

Blair nodded, still in wonderment of what he had experienced. He then went on to explain everything that Incacha had told him about the visions and how Jim could help him clarify the visions when they become blurred together.

Jim listened wholeheartedly to what Blair was saying. He had heard the loud thump of Blair's body impacting the hard wood floor, and when he had come out of the bathroom and saw his young friend lying on the ground seemingly unconscious, it had scared the hell out of him. It was nice to know that he had helped guide Blair back to wakefulness just by being there, and that he could prevent that from happening again.

"So I help you with these visions," Jim stated, making sure he had this right. "Do I have to do anything special?"

"No," Blair answered with a shake of his head. "You just have to be there like I'm there for you."

Jim nodded. "Okay. So did you manage to clear up that first vision you had?"

Blair's eye widened as he remembered what he saw before waking up. "Oh my god! Simon!" he exclaimed. His headache forgotten, he jumped to his feet and hurriedly grabbed his coat from the coat hook. "We have to go. Now!"

"Go? Go where?" Jim asked, feeling uneasy by Blair's urgency.

"To Simon's. He's going to get shot. Now c'mon. I don't know when this is supposed to happen,"

That galvanized Jim into action. He grabbed his coat and keys and both men were rushing out the door.

It normally took a half hour to get to Simon's house from the loft, but Jim made it in ten, propelled by the urgent need to save his friend and captain.

"Now what am I looking for?" Jim asked as they were driving down Simon's street. The captain's house was all the way at the end on the corner.

"Okay," Blair said, recalling the events from his vision. "Simon was leaving his house heading for his car when a black SUV came careening around that corner." He pointed down the street where the road made a right turn.

Sure enough as soon as Jim's truck was pulling up in front of Simon's house, the captain was walking out the front door heading toward his car parked in the driveway. Knowing what was going to happen next, Jim wrenched the wheel to the right so the truck was sideways on the road, effectively blocking the street, just as the SUV swerved around the corner. The large vehicle came to a screeching halt, and Jim exited his truck with his gun drawn. He focused his eyesight on the driver through the windshield to get a description but was dismayed to see that the mystery man was wearing a black ski mask.

"Get out of the car with you hands up," Jim ordered authoritatively.

"Jim? What's going on?" Simon asked from his front yard.

Jim ignored the question, his attention fully on the man that wanted to kill his friend. "I said get out of the car!" he commanded again. He saw the man's hands tighten on the steering wheel, and then the SUV lurched forward with a squeal of tires. It was all Jim could do to dive out of the way of the speeding vehicle. He rolled to his feet, and his heart clenched in fear as he turned back and saw the SUV slam into his truck with Blair still inside. "Sandburg!" he yelled.

Blair, who had been watching events unfold from inside Jim's truck, saw the SUV start speeding towards Jim, and his heart leapt into this throat. He sighed in relief when he saw Jim jump clear of the charging behemoth, but then he realized that now he was in the path of destruction. With no time to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out, he braced for impact.

The SUV slammed into the driver side of Jim's truck. The sound of screeching metal and breaking glass filled the air as the two cars collided. Then the SUV backed up, drove around the mangled truck, and sped away.

Jim looked at his truck and saw that the driver's side door, which he had left open, was twisted and contorted at an odd angle, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to chase after the maniac. So he tried to get the license plate of the fleeing car. It was mostly covered in dirt, but he was able to get a partial plate number. Jim ran around to the passenger side of his truck where Blair was just climbing out, looking a bit dazed but no worse for wear.

Still, Jim checked him out with his senses as he asked, "Blair, are you alright?"

Blair took stock of himself. He had a few bumps and bruises, but for the most part, he thought he was okay. "Yeah, I think so," he replied. He looked down the street where the SUV had disappeared. "Man, that guy was nuts."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Ellison! Sandburg!" Simon yelled.

Both men saw Simon walking across the yard toward them, looking completely confused. Blair grimaced. He knew what was coming next, and he wasn't sure he was ready for it.

"Here comes Simon," Jim stated. "You know we owe him an explanation, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Blair replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. His headache was starting to come back.

"So what do you want to tell him?" Jim asked, looking at his partner with sympathetic eyes. He knew how Blair felt about his newfound abilities. He had even been hesitant to tell Simon about his sentinel abilities.

"I guess we'll have to tell him the truth this time," Blair whispered sentinel soft as Simon reached them.

"What the hell just happened? What the hell was that?" Simon asked.

Jim squeezed Blair's shoulder as he replied, "Well, Simon, that guy was here to kill you."

Simon's eyes widened. "What?!"

"Yeah. We don't know why or even who, but we definitely know he was here to shoot you."

Simon blinked and shook his head to clear it. "Okay. Wait a minute. Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but how did you know he was going to shoot me? And what are you doing here anyway?"

Jim looked at Blair who was staring down at his shoes. He could tell the younger man really didn't want to go into details at that very moment. So he decided to give Blair some more time to build up his courage.

"Look, we'll explain everything later, Simon. Right now we need call in back up and forensics, and then we need to get you some place safe."

"You think he'll try again?" Simon asked.

"Considering he really didn't get a chance to try this time, yeah, I think so," Jim replied.

Simon sighed. "Alright. Let's make the call, but you still owe me an explanation." He pointed at the two men as he pulled out his cell phone.

After backup and forensics arrived, Jim told the arriving officers what happened and that Simon was now under police protection until further notice. Forensics found some flecks of black paint on Jim's truck, which Jim had already taken notice of when he ran to make sure Blair was okay, but they didn't find anything that would point to who the attempted murderer was. Jim wasn't surprised. He didn't find anything either, and if he didn't find anything, he knew the forensics people wouldn't either.

"Well, Simon, I guess you're coming home with us," Jim said after everything was said and done.

"Oh no," Simon groaned. "Don't tell me. You two are going to protect me?"

"Well, unless you'd rather go to a safe house."

Simon glared at the detective. "I'd rather stay in my own house," he grumbled.

"No can do, captain," Jim said with a shake of his head. "The guy already knows where you live."

"Yeah, he could come back at any time," Blair chimed in.

Simon looked at the two men and then nodded. "Okay, fine. I'll come home with you, if you give me an explanation once we get there."

Blair took a deep breath. He knew that was coming. Mustering up his courage, he looked up at the big captain he considered a friend and replied, "Deal."

"Good," Simon said, then he turned to Jim. "So I guess I'm driving, huh."

Jim looked back at the mangled remnants of his baby, which was being towed as they spoke. "Uh, yeah."

"Sorry about your truck, Jim," Simon replied as they headed toward his car.

"Ah, it's okay. I was thinking about getting a new one anyway."

"You might be able to fix it," Blair said.

"Yeah, maybe," Jim said as they got into the car.

The whole way to the loft, Blair sat in the back seat wringing his hands nervously. He knew Simon was his friend, and he probably wouldn't look at Blair any differently once he knew the truth just like he didn't look at Jim any differently. But he couldn't help being nervous. Having psychic visions was very different from having heightened senses. Visions were more of a mystical thing while heightened senses were more physical, more acceptable. Simon was more of a down-to-earth kind of guy. He just didn't know how the big captain was going to react.

Jim could hear Blair's heart pounding in the backseat and knew how nervous the younger man was. He wished he could make Blair feel better about telling Simon his secret, but with Simon in the car, he could hardly give the anthropologist a pep talk. Then he got an idea.

Glancing back at the young man, he said, "So, Chief, how was your date with that girl you went out with last night? What was he name, Veronica?"

Blair's face lit up at the mention of the beautiful woman he had gone out with last night. He smiled that megawatt smile and his eyes sparkled. "Oh man. It was great! She has the face of an angel and the body of a supermodel. And she has a great personality. I could talk to her all day long."

Jim smiled in satisfaction as Blair continued to yammer on about his date. He had successfully distracted the young man from his current problem. He knew it wasn't going to last long, especially with the annoyed look on Simon's face, but it was worth it to see that smile on the kid's face.

Once they got back to the loft, Blair dropped his keys in the basket, hung up his jacket, and then shuffled into his bedroom to buy himself some time to think of what he was going to say. Thinking about Veronica had been a great distraction, and he was secretly grateful to Jim for it, but now it was time to get down to business. Simon wasn't going to wait forever.

"C'mon, Sandburg. What's the holdup?" Simon called impatiently.

Blair took a deep breath, hurriedly kicked off his shoes, and scurried out the door. Jim was sitting at the kitchen table, and Simon was standing next to him shifting his gaze from sentinel to guide.

"Alright. Spill it. What's going on?" Simon asked.

Blair looked at Simon and then glanced at Jim. The detective was looking back at him with a calm, steady gaze, as if giving him the courage to say what he needed to say. Okay, here goes nothing, he thought.

"Well, you see," Blair began. "The reason we knew that you were going to get shot today is…" He paused, his gaze sliding to Jim once more.

"Yeah?" Simon said impatiently.

"Is because I saw it happen," Blair blurted out.

"What?"

"I saw it happen in my head."

Simon looked at him incredulously. "What? You've got to be kidding me. Are you telling me that that whole thing today was based on some dream that you had?" The captain's voice had steadily started getting louder as he spoke, and Blair flinched at the rising pitch.

Jim, seeing Blair's flinch, stood up and put his hand on Simon's shoulder. "Now wait, Simon…"

"And you went along with this?" Simon asked, turning to his detective.

Jim looked his captain and friend straight in the eye. "Yeah, I did because I trust him. I trust what he sees, and I trust what he's telling me. They're not just dreams. They're more like…visions."

"Visions? What, now you're telling me the kid's psychic? He has premonitions of the future?"

"No, I'm not a psychic, Simon. I'm a shaman. Incacha passed the way of the shaman to me before he died. This is just a part of me being a guide to Jim," Blair explained.

Simon shook his head. "I don't know about this. I mean Jim's senses I can handle. They're at least believable, but this? It seems a bit too out there for me."

Blair's face fell, and he averted his gaze to floor to hide how hurt he was. He knew this was a bad idea.

Jim saw the hurt though and took a step closer to Simon. "C'mon Simon," he said in a low voice. "The kid was nervous about telling you this, but he did anyway because he trusts and respects you. Give him a chance. Besides, how else could we have known about that guy? We wouldn't have even been there if it hadn't been for his vision."

Simon looked at the pathetic figure standing before him. He could see the hurt on his face and immediately felt guilty. He sighed and said, "Alright. I'm listening. When did this start?"

Blair looked up with a small smile. "Well, do you remember when that guy walked into the bullpen a few months ago, and I got the drop on him?"

"Yeah," Simon answered slowly.

"Well, that's how I was able to get the drop on him. I knew it was going to happen. I had been dreaming about it for days before it happened."

Simon looked thoughtful. "I always wondered how you managed to do that."

"And that time when Jim was shot during that undercover operation."

Simon's eyes widened. "That's why you were there."

Blair nodded. "The guy was going to kill Jim. I had to go there and stop him."

"You still should have called me first," Simon said sternly.

"I couldn't," Blair said, looking down at his shoes. "You were in that meeting with the Chief of Police and the mayor."

Simon blinked in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"Because I saw you too that night. You had just gotten out of the meeting and were talking to Brown in the bullpen. You said you were so tired and you couldn't wait to get home. Oh, and by the way, don't worry about your weekend with Darryl. I'm sure Joan will come around."

"What?" Simon asked, flabbergasted.

"You were talking on the phone with Joan just before you walked out the house today. I saw that too."

Simon was floored. That's exactly what had happened. How could the kid have known that, and how could he have known about his conversation with his ex-wife unless…he really did have visions. But then why would he have had a vision that night about him? He was sure if the kid did have visions, he wouldn't have had one about him for no reason.

"Why did you have a vision about me that night?" he asked.

"You would have died that night, Simon," Blair said quietly. "If you hadn't gotten the call about Jim, a semi truck would have run a red light and smashed into your car." He debated telling the captain about the decision he'd had to make that night, but he decided not to. Simon didn't need to know that he chosen to save Jim over him even though he had a very good reason for doing so.

Simon sat down at the table completely dumbstruck. He remembered when he got the call about Jim getting shot and turning his car around. He vaguely recalled seeing a semi truck going through the intersection behind him, the very intersection he had been heading towards, but he hadn't taken any notice then. How could Sandburg have known that unless he really did have visions?

"My god," Simon breathed. "You really do have visions."

"Yeah," Blair said timidly.

"Okay," Simon said, nodding. "So where do we go from here?"

"Well, we'll handle it like we do my senses. We keep it quiet," Jim said.

"That's easier said than done," Blair said testily. "You have more control over your senses. I have no control. It's not like I can hold a vision back if I happen to be in a room full of people."

"Yeah, and I could zone out in front of a room full of people or have a sensory spike or something," Jim argued.

"But you don't."

"Yeah because of you."

Blair paused. "I know what you're saying, but you can't stop the visions from coming."

"No, but I can help you with them. Who knows? Maybe they'll get better now that we know how to deal with them properly."

"And if they don't?" Blair asked, looking at his sentinel with imploring eyes.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Jim replied, giving Blair's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Okay. I have to interrupt here," Simon interjected. "What are you two talking about? What exactly happens to you when you have a vision?"

"Well, they used to just come to me while I was asleep, like a dream, and that was okay," Blair replied. "But the one I had today of you came to me while I was awake, and it hurt…a lot."

"Not to mention the fact that you passed out, scared the crap out of me," Jim added.

Blair cast Jim an apologetic look.

"Wait, you passed out?" Simon asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Gratitude shone in Blair's eyes as he nodded. It was nice to know that the big captain really did care about him even after finding out about his visions. He should have known that Simon would accept his visions. He was after all his friend. It just took a little bit of convincing.

"Yeah. It's just that when I'm awake, the visions get jumbled, and my head hurts, and I guess my brain got overloaded," Blair explained.

"Is there a way to stop that?" Simon asked.

"Yeah. Jim can help me with that."

"Good," Simon said. He wasn't going to ask anymore questions. He was just going to accept it at face value. This was already more than he wanted to know. "The last thing we need is for you to collapse in the middle of the bullpen while having one of your...visions."

Jim could tell that Simon was still a little uncomfortable with the whole vision thing, so he decided to change the subject. "Well, enough about that. We need to figure out who's trying to kill you, Simon."

Blair gave Jim a grateful look.

Simon sighed and rubbed his face. Of course, he had almost forgotten that someone had tried to shoot him a few short hours ago. "Yeah, but I have no idea who it could be."

"I'll have Brown and Rafe check out your past cases, see if there's anyone out there who might have a grudge against you, and I'll have them check out that partial plate I got from the SUV. Hopefully, we can get a hit," Jim said as he picked up the cordless phone.

After Jim left to make his call, Blair turned to Simon. "Um…want something to eat?" Blair asked hesitantly. He was a little uncomfortable around the captain now that he knew the truth. He wasn't sure how the big man felt yet.

"Sure. What do you have?" Simon asked.

"I could make stir fry," Blair suggested as he walked into the kitchen to make sure he had the right ingredients for it.

"Sounds good to me. And Blair," Simon called. He had noticed Blair's hesitancy and felt guilty for the making the kid feel uncomfortable around him. He felt he had to make things right. So when Blair turned toward him questioningly, he said, "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me the truth. I know that took a lot of guts. And it may take me a while, but I'm sure I'll get used to the whole…vision thing."

Blair's mouth slowly formed into a wide smile. "Thanks, Simon. That means a lot to me."

"Okay," Jim said as he made his way back over to them. "Brown is checking out that partial plate, and Rafe is checking out Simon's past cases. We should know something soon." He looked at the two men, Blair with his huge smile and Simon looking a bit uncomfortable. "Did I miss something?"

"No, man. How's stir fry for dinner?" Blair asked.

"That's fine."

"Great," he exclaimed, turning to gather the ingredients he would need.

Jim looked at Simon, who waved his hand as if to say don't ask as he went to sit on the couch and flipped on the TV.

"Make yourself at home," Jim called.

"I intend to."

Shaking his head, Jim joined his friend on the couch to watch some TV until dinner was ready.

The masked man entered a small, rundown apartment and dropped his gun on the kitchen table. He was furious beyond measure. He had Banks right where he wanted him, and then those two other guys showed up out of nowhere before he really had a chance to do anything. He didn't know how they knew what he was planning, but they can't protect Banks forever. He'll get him sooner or later.

"Where have you been?"

The man turned at the voice. A tall man with short black hair and a lean build was standing in the doorway that led to the bedroom. With his arms crossed over his chest, he looked pissed.

"Out," the man in the ski mask answered in a low, raspy voice.

"Out? Out where? At Captain Simon Banks' house? I heard about what happened. Did you try to kill him?"

The other man narrowed his eyes. "So what if I was, Lonnie? He deserves to die."

Lonnie sighed. "I told you. If I got you out, you couldn't go after Banks. What were you thinking Damien? He's a captain now. He's got friends."

"Have you forgotten what he did, little brother?" Damien asked as he rounded on Lonnie. "Because of him I look like this." He pulled the ski mask off to reveal a gruesome sight. His face and neck were completely covered in burn scars. He had no hair or even any eyebrows. He looked like Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street.

Lonnie winced at the horrific sight. He may never get used to the new face his big brother was now sporting.

Damien noticed his brother wince and it just made him even angrier. "Because of him," he continued, "I lost my life, my career, everything I had! And what would you have me do? Sit around this little ass dump of an apartment and knit? No. No, I've sat around long enough. I want revenge."

"Okay. I get it. He ruined your life, but you know what? He didn't make you kill your wife. That was all you."

Damien gave Lonnie a sideways look. "She looked at me like I was a monster," he said quietly. "I merely showed her what a monster really is. It's because of him that I am what I am, and now I get a chance to pay him back."

"Damien, you're my brother, but I'm a police officer now. I can't let you kill a fellow officer, let alone the captain of Major Crimes."

Damien scoffed. "I can't believe you even became one of them," he said in disgust.

"And why not? You were one once," Lonnie said quietly.

Damien rolled his eyes. "That was a lifetime ago, before I learned that they only care about themselves. If you're not one of them, then you don't matter."

"That's not true," Lonnie said defensively. He didn't like his brother talking that way about police work. He really did like being a police officer.

"Sure it is. After what happened to me, I never saw any of my so called friends again."

"Plenty of them came to see you in the hospital," Lonnie argued.

"Yeah, but where the hell were they after I got out of the hospital?"

Lonnie was silent. He didn't have an answer for that one.

"That's right. Nowhere. Because I couldn't do the job anymore, suddenly I wasn't worth a damn. That's how it is. That's how it'll always be," Damien said bitterly.

"You're wrong."

"Keep telling yourself that, kid. It won't change a thing though," Damien said as he turned and walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" Lonnie asked.

Damien looked back at his little brother. "To finish what I started. Now, are you going to help, or are you going to be a little bitch?"

Lonnie sighed heavily and chewed on his bottom lip uncertainly. He didn't like the idea of killing a man simply for revenge, but Damien was his big brother. He looked up to him, always have, always will. He'd do anything for him. Maybe if he helped him this one time, it would all be over, and Damien would go back to being the brother that he once knew. In his head, he knew that would never happen. Damien was too far gone, but in his heart, he couldn't accept that fact. So he agreed.

"Alright. What do you need me to do?"

Damien smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. "That's my little brother." He put his arm around Lonnie and pulled him towards him. "Now, no doubt the police have Banks under police protection. I need you to find out where he's hiding. Can you do that for me?"

Lonnie averted his gaze to the floor and nodded slightly.

"Good. That's very good."

"That was delicious, Sandburg," Simon said as pushed his empty plate away and leaned back in his chair, his stomach comfortably full.

"Thanks, Simon," Blair said with a smile. "I aim to please."

"Right. If you aim to please, how come you never do what you're told?" Jim asked lightheartedly.

"Well, I only do it on special occasions."

"You mean when you feel like it."

"Yeah," Blair answered simply.

Jim nodded. "So, do you feel like it now?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the dirty dishes on the table.

Blair looked down as well and smirked. "Oh, I get it. You want me to clean up?"

"That would please me, yes," Jim replied with a smile of his own.

Blair seemed to think about it for a minute and then he shook his head. "I don't think so. I cooked for you. That should be pleasing enough."

Jim gave him a playful swat on the back of the head as he stood up to clear off the table.

"Hey, watch the hair, man," Blair complained.

"Oh what does it matter?" Jim asked as he gathered up the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. "You're not going anywhere, and we don't care what you're hair looks like, do we, Simon?"

"Nope."

"Hey, you never know. I might get a call from a girlfriend later on," Blair said.

"What girlfriend? You don't have a girlfriend," Jim replied.

"Hey, there's Veronica," Blair said.

"One date does not make her your girlfriend, Chief. You probably won't even see her again," Jim said.

"Even if I don't, there will always be more," Blair said with a smirk.

"Right," Jim said with a roll of his eyes. "There goes that table leg thing again."

Simon laughed at the two men's banter as he stood up from the table and headed toward the couch. "Well, I'm in the mood for a good action flick. Who's with me?" he said as he sat down on one of the couches.

"Oh yeah I could go for that," Jim said eagerly as he joined Simon on the couch.

"Sounds thrilling guys, but unfortunately, I've got some work to do," Blair said.

"Oh come on, Chief. You can stand to take a break for a couple hours," Jim said, as he beckoned the young man to sit on the couch next to him.

Blair shook his head. "As much as I'd like to, I have a test in a couple days and I really need to study. Enjoy your movie." With a wave, he strolled into his room and closed the door behind him, leaving Jim and Simon to their own devices.

"Well, want a beer?" Jim asked.

"Sure."

Jim got up from the couch. As he was walking to the kitchen, the phone rang so he detoured to the phone to answer it.

Simon made a face. Guess I'll have to wait for that beer, he thought. Getting restless, he got up and went to look out the window. Anything to keep his mind occupied so he wouldn't have to think about the madman that was out to kill him.

As Jim was talking on the phone, his hearing kicked in, and he heard an ominous click, like the sound of a gun being cocked. His head whipped around, and he saw Simon standing in front of the window. He looked past the big captain and stretched his eyesight further. He saw the same masked man as before with a sniper rifle in a building across the street.

"SIMON, GET DOWN!" Jim yelled as he dropped the phone and booked it across the room. He pushed the big captain to the ground just as a bullet broke through the glass right where Simon's head had been.

Blair came out of his room wondering what all the commotion was. "What the hell?"

"Get down!" Jim yelled, and Blair hit the deck without any hesitation.

"What the hell's going on?" Blair asked.

"Someone just took a shot at Simon," Jim replied as he slowly stood up to see if the shooter was still there or not. The window where he had been was empty.

"What?!" Blair exclaimed, worried eyes straying to Simon who was still on the floor.

"It's okay. He missed. Get on the phone. Tell Rafe that we've got a sniper across the street, and I'm in pursuit," Jim ordered Blair and then sprinted out the door.

Blair crawled to the dropped phone that was lying on the kitchen floor. He didn't know if the shooter was still out there, and he didn't want to take any chances. Glancing back, he saw that Simon was doing the same. As he got closer to the phone, he could hear a tiny voice on the other end worriedly calling Jim's name. He quickly picked it up and reported to Rafe everything that Jim and said. Rafe assured him that backup was on the way.

Jim raced down the stairs as fast as he could without falling and then ran outside. By the time he reached the building across the street, there was someone leaving so he didn't have any trouble getting inside. He climbed the stairs two, sometimes three steps at a time. By the time he got up to the third floor, he spotted a man dressed all in black running down the hall, and so Jim gave chase. He didn't know for sure this was his guy, but more than likely it was since it looked like he was wearing a ski mask.

Jim chased the man all the way down the hall and then down another flight of stairs to a side door. Just as the shooter reached the door though, Jim grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. The suspect was quick though. He elbowed Jim in the gut and took off down another hallway. Jim, ignoring the pain in his stomach, ran after him and tackled him to the ground. They struggled for a few minutes until Jim felt a burning pain in his right shoulder that spread throughout his entire body until all his muscles felt like they were on fire. Shaking, he rolled off the man and lay on the ground not quite sure what just happened to him.

The shooter stood up, and Jim looked up at him. He could see parts of his face through the eye and mouth holes, and he could tell that at least some if not all of the skin on his face was marred with scars, as if his face had been burn badly some time ago. The shooter smiled and held up a handheld tazer.

"Never leave home without it," he said in a raspy voice. He bent down next to Jim and got right in his face. "I don't have a beef with you even though you are a cop, but you get in my way again and I'll kill you." He tazed Jim one last time, causing Jim to cry out in pain, before running away.

Jim was left writhing on the ground in agony. He felt like there was red hot lava burning it's way through his body. Every muscle in his body was cramping and twitching, and for several minutes he couldn't move. All he could do was lye there on the ground, breathing heavily. He had been tazed before. Every rookie was tazed so they would know what it felt like when they tazed a suspect, but it never felt like this before. This felt a hundred times worse. He wasn't sure if it was because the man had had the tazer on the highest setting or if it was because of his heightened senses. He suspected it was a bit of both.

Knowing that he couldn't lay there forever, he remembered what Blair had taught him. He slowed down his breathing and attempted to turn the pain dials down to a manageable level. In just a few minutes, the red hot burning sensation turned into a dull ache, and he was finally able to pull himself to his feet. He had to brace himself against the wall when his shaky legs threatened to give out on him. Once he was sure he had his balance, he pushed away from the wall and slowly walked toward the front door. He had heard the sound of sirens while he was trying to get to his feet and knew that backup would soon be there.

Once outside, he tried to hide his weakened state as much as possible while he told the arriving officers what had happened. He told them the direction he believed the suspect had disappeared to and which room he had come from. He knew they would take it from there. Normally, he would have checked out the room where the shooter had come from himself, but the way he was feeling, there was no way he was going to be climbing up three flights of stairs.

Once he was done, he made his way carefully across the street where he met up with Rafe and Brown.

"Hey, Jim. What happened? Did you get him?" Rafe asked.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. "No. The bastard got away from me," he groused.

"Damn," Brown swore. "How are Blair and Simon? Either of them hurt?"

"No, they're fine. I'm about to head up there right now," Jim replied. He missed the surprised looks the two detectives exchanged behind his back as he strode slowly toward his building. He wanted to do some more investigating, but he right now he needed to sit down for a while.

"Hey Jim, you okay?" Rafe asked worriedly. "You're moving kind of slow."

Jim paused with his hand on the front door. "I'm fine," he answered. "I just need the elevator to be working," he whispered under his breath as he pushed the door open. Then, remembering that Rafe never got to tell him the reason he had called earlier, he stopped and turned. "Hey Rafe. You never told me why you called earlier."

"Oh yeah," Rafe said. "We got a hit on that partial plate you got off the SUV. It belongs to Lonnie Jeffreys. We're actually going to go pick him up once we're done here."

"Really," Jim said thoughtfully. He really needed to sit down for a while, like the rest of the day, but this could be the guy they were looking for. And he wanted to be there when they picked him up. Of course, someone had to stay here and watch over Simon, but he could get a uniform to do that. And if they caught this guy now, he wouldn't need the protection anymore. Weighing his options, he made his decision. "Alright. I'm going to go with you when you go get this guy. Just give me a few minutes."

"Sure. No problem."

Blair and Simon were watching events unfold from the balcony of the loft. They had stayed on the ground for fear of more bullets flying through the window until they heard the sirens. Blair had jumped up, figuring it safe, and ran to the balcony doors, pulling them open in one fluid motion. He had stared at the building across the street, trying to catch even a glimpse of Jim.

"I'm sure he's all right, Blair. He can take care of himself," Simon had assured him as he joined him on the balcony.

"I know, but I can't help worrying about him," Blair had replied as he continued to watch the building. Police cars had showed up then, and officers were all over the place, heading across the street, but there had still been no sign of Jim. And then he had seen him walking out and meeting up with the uniforms.

"See, I told you he was fine," Simon had said.

"Yeah," Blair had replied, but he had noticed his partner moving slower than normal.

Now he was watching Jim talking to Rafe and Brown, waiting anxiously for him to enter the building. He wanted to make sure his friend was okay. He was concerned by how slow Jim was moving. He was in tremendous shape, so there was no way the chase had tired him out that much, which made him wonder what had happened between him and the shooter.

He saw Jim finally enter the building and immediately ran to the front door. He had the door open as soon as he heard the elevator ding. The elevator doors opened, and Jim walked slowly down the hall.

"Jim," Blair called. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Jim looked up at Blair standing in the doorway and sighed. "I'm fine," he replied as he made his way past Blair.

"Really. Then why are you moving like an 80-year-old man?" Blair asked as he closed the door.

Jim collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table and rubbed his chest and shoulder where he had been tazed. It was really starting to burn now.

Noticing the motion and the pained grimace on his friend's face, Blair asked again, "Jim, what happened?"

"Oh, nothing. The guy just got away from me, that's all," Jim said testily.

Blair crossed his arms. "That pinch in your forehead says different."

"C'mon, Jim. What's going on?" Simon jumped in, noticing how much trouble the young man was having at getting the detective to talk.

Jim clenched his jaw. He hated to admit that the guy got the drop on him and had escaped, but he knew he needed to say something because this burning was getting worse. He knew Blair could help with that.

With a sigh, he replied, "He tazed me."

Blair's eyes widened. "He what?! Where?"

"In my shoulder. And my chest."

"He tazed you twice! Oh man. Alright, take off your shirt. Let me see."

"Sandburg, I am not taking off my shirt," Jim said stubbornly even though his chest and shoulder were starting to feel like red hot coals were pressing up against his skin.

"Whoa, hold on, Sandburg," Simon interrupted. "I think you're overreacting just a little. I mean, yeah, getting tazed hurts, but it's nothing to get all upset about. We've all been tazed before."

"Simon, you don't understand. A tazer could cause some possibly serious damage to Jim's sensitive skin even on the lowest setting. Now we don't know how high this guy had his tazer on, so I need to make sure there wasn't any serious damage done." He turned to Jim. "Now take off your shirt."

After a moment, Jim reluctantly removed his T-shirt. Blair winced at the two angry, red burns on Jim's shoulder and upper left chest. Oh man, Jim must be in a lot of pain by the looks of these, he thought as he bent forward for a closer examination.

"Luckily, they don't look too bad," Blair said. But they do look painful, he thought, and the look on Jim's face confirmed it. He put his hand on Jim's arm. "Alright, Jim. I want you to close your eyes, do your breathing, and slowly turn that pain dial down to about a one or a two. Okay, you got that?"

Jim did as instructed, and after a couple of deep breaths, the line in his forehead evened out and his face relaxed. He opened his eyes and smiled. "Thanks, Chief."

"No problem. Now I'm going to get some ointment to put on those burns," Blair said as he headed toward the bathroom.

"Well, hurry it up. I've got to go in a few minutes," Jim called after him.

"Go? Where are you going?" Simon asked.

"Oh, Rafe got a hit on that partial license plate number. The car was registered to a Lonnie Jeffreys. Ring any bells?"

Simon shook his head as Blair came back with the ointment and started to gently rub some onto the burns. Jim winced at first but relaxed after a moment as the ointment started to do its job.

"Well, Rafe and Brown are going to go pick him up, and I'm going with them," Jim continued. Seeing both men open their mouths, he quickly went on. "And no you're not going. Either of you."

Simon crossed his arms across his chest. "You know, I'm still your commanding officer," he said, trying to sound intimidating.

Jim wasn't buying it. He shook his head. "No, right now you're a civilian under my protection, and in case this isn't our guy, I'm not going to have you walking around with a big target on your back."

"But what about…" Blair began.

"I want you to stay here with Simon," Jim interrupted. "Rafe and Brown are going to have an officer stationed outside, but I want you here so Simon's not all by himself. And maybe, if something does happen, you'll see it before it does."

Blair nodded as he finished applying the ointment. "Okay, but you know I don't always see things before they happen. I certainly didn't see that sniper."

"Yeah, but I did," Jim said as he carefully put his shirt back on. "Maybe that's one reason for these visions of yours, to see things that I can't."

Blair had never thought of it that way. Maybe Jim was right, but there was another issue. "Yeah, but I still need you here with me. Otherwise, my visions are all jumbled."

Jim put his hands on Blair's shoulders. "We can't always be together, Chief. You just have to do what I do when you're not with me. Concentrate on my voice in your head. Imagine that I'm right there with you. At least it works for me."

Blair nodded. "Okay. I'll try, but you be careful, Jim."

"Yeah. Remember, this guy knows who you are now. He may go after you to get to me," Simon said.

"I'll be fine," Jim assured as he headed toward the front door feeling a lot better than a few minutes ago.

Damien was driving back to his brother's apartment. He had been sitting in his stolen car for the past twenty to thirty minutes contemplating his next move. He had missed his target twice now because of that cop who seemed to be everywhere and also seemed to know what he was about to do before he did it. He supposed he should have killed him when he had the chance, but he didn't really want to kill two cops. He may hate cops but not enough to go around killing every cop he saw. Killing one cop will bring a lot of heat, but killing two would just be asking for trouble.

As he turned the corner toward his brother's apartment, he saw the flashing lights of police cars sitting right outside his brother's building. With a muttered curse, he pulled up as close as he could without attracting attention and pulled over to the side of the road to watch. Damn, he thought as he watched police officers milling about. How did they find his brother so quickly? There was no way they could have tracked Lonnie's car, could they?

As he watched, his brother was escorted out of the apartment building by two plain clothes officers, most likely detectives, and one of them was the hero himself, the same guy who had thwarted his plans twice now.

He narrowed his eyes. Great. Now they have Lonnie. That kid better not squeal, or I'll kill him, brother or no brother. He was fuming as he tried to think of a way to get out of this situation. Then he realized. If Mr. Hero was here, then who was protecting Banks? He smiled. If he can get Banks now, then hopefully, if his brother does rat him out, he'll be out of the city at least by the time the cops catch up to him.

He quickly did a U-turn and headed back the way he came. No more trying to kill him from a distance crap. He had a much better idea in mind.

Blair paced back and forth in front of the TV. He hated waiting. It was absolutely torturous especially in situations like this. He wished that Jim would just call already and tell them that this Lonnie Jeffreys was their guy. He looked at Simon who was sitting on the couch staring off into the distance. He looked to be deep in thought.

"Sandburg, will you sit down?" Simon finally said as he looked at the younger man.

"I don't understand how you could be so calm," Blair said as he finally sat down on the other couch.

"Look, I'm not going to be helping anyone, least of all myself, by worrying myself into a frenzy. Besides, I'm trying to think."

"Think about what?" Blair asked.

"Lonnie Jeffreys."

"I thought you didn't know him."

"I don't, but now that I think about it. I did know a Damien Jeffreys."

Blair's eyebrows rose. "Brother?"

"Maybe," Simon replied.

"So who was he?" Blair asked curiously.

"He was my partner, and my friend," Simon replied.

Blair scooted forward a little. He could tell there was story behind this, and he didn't want to miss a word of it.

"We went to the academy together," Simon explained. "Then we were partnered together when we got out." Simon paused, a look of anguish on his face.

Blair could tell he was reluctant to go on, and he hated to push the big captain. But they needed to know what happened so they could determine if this was their guy or not. Blair had a feeling it was or at the very least the brother. By the look on Simon's face, he could tell something awful must have happened.

"So what happened?" Blair encouraged gently.

Simon took a deep breath. "One night, we got a call about some kids who were vandalizing some warehouses down by the waterfront. So we went to check it out. We came upon the scene and witnessed a group of about five or six teenagers breaking windows. They took off of course as soon as we pulled up. So we chased after them for a couple of blocks until we heard gunshots from a nearby warehouse. Naturally, I called for backup and we went to check it out. There was nothing amiss outside the warehouse. I wanted to wait for backup, but Damien, being the stubborn ass he always was, didn't want to wait. He wanted to go in now. So I followed him in.

"We came upon a drug deal gone bad. Two buyers had killed the seller and were in the process of packing up all the drugs and the money when we came in. Of course, when they saw us, they started firing immediately. I took cover behind a large packing crate. Damien was to the right of me behind another packing crate. We exchanged gunfire, and then I heard this agonizing scream. It was a scream I will never forget. I looked over, and I saw Damien writhing on the ground, his hands over his face. At first, I thought he'd been hit. Then I noticed steam spouting from a pipe he'd been standing next to. A stray bullet must have hit it, and the steam got Damien right in the face."

"Oh my god," Blair breathed, horrified at how much pain that must have caused. "How did you get out of that?"

"I was able to hold them off until backup arrived," Simon answered.

"So what happened to Damien?" Blair asked.

"He was taken to the hospital," Simon replied, cringing inwardly at the memory of what his friend looked like after that incident. "Doctors said he suffered second and third degree burns over his entire face, burned most of his hair off, and even damaged his vocal chords a little."

"Jesus. That had to suck."

Simon nodded absently, still stuck in his memories. "I visited him a few times while he was in the hospital, but he wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. I guessed he blamed me for what happened. And I don't know, maybe he's right."

"What?" Blair said. "Simon, that wasn't your fault. Damien was the one who didn't want to wait for backup, and you couldn't have known that was going to happen. You couldn't have prevented it."

"He was my partner, Sandburg. Partners are supposed to watch out for each other."

"I know. Believe me, I know, but there are some things you can't watch out for, some things you can't stop."

Simon looked at Blair with small smile. "Speaking from experience?"

Blair grinned. "Yeah, maybe a little. Lord knows that if I were in your position and something like that had happened to Jim, I'd probably feel the same way. But you know and I know that there's no reason to feel guilty."

Simon removed his glasses and rubbed his face. "I know you're right. It's just…"

"Hard," Blair finished for him with a nod. "Yeah, I know. So whatever happened to him?"

Simon put his glasses back on and shrugged. "I don't know. I stopped visiting him after a while. Couldn't take the cold shoulder anymore. Then he just disappeared. I never saw him again."

"Until now," Blair said.

"So you think it's him too."

"It makes senses. If he blames you for what happened to him, that's one hell of a motive."

Simon agreed, but one thing was still bugging him. "Yeah, but why would he wait this long."

Blair shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe…"

Blair stopped mid-sentence as they both heard a loud thump come from Blair's room.

"What was that?" Blair asked nervously.

"I don't know, but it came from your room," Simon replied.

Blair looked at Simon with frightened eyes. "Simon, there's a door leading out to the fire escape in my room."

Simon got up from the couch and pulled out his gun. "Stay here. I'll go check it out."

"Wait a minute," Blair said, standing up, "You're the one who's supposed to be under protection."

Simon gave him an annoyed look. "So, what, you want to go check it out? What are you going to do if he is in there?"

Blair opened his mouth and then closed it again. Simon was right. He didn't have a gun, and he wasn't a cop. He was really wishing he'd have a vision right about now because he was feeling pretty damn useless at the moment.

Before either of them could say or do anything more, something broke through one of the windows to Blair's room and landed on the floor next to them. It looked like a small metal canister. Simon knew exactly what it was and tried to shield Blair from it, but he knew nothing he did was going to protect the young man from its devastating effects.

The canister admitted a bright flash of light, blinding both men, and then a second later, there was a loud bang, like a bomb going off.

Blair didn't know what just happened. One minute they were standing there arguing, and the next he was on the ground, blinded and deafened and completely disoriented. His head pounded. All he could see were spots in front of his eyes, and everything sound muffled to his ears. He thought he heard a scuffle nearby, but he just couldn't tell where or what it was. He felt around on the ground, trying to find where Simon was as he tried to clear his vision. He saw someone's feet and felt their boots, and then he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, and his vision went completely black.

Jim stood in the observation room staring at Lonnie Jeffreys in the interrogation room. The man had refused to talk at first, but after a little persuasive threatening on Jim's part, he finally broke.

"Alright. It's my brother, Damien," Jeffreys had said. "He blames Captain Banks for what happened to him, and now he wants revenge."

"Why? What happened?" Jim had asked.

"It was some stupid accident that happened like twenty years ago that messed up his face. He hasn't been the same since then. I know I should have stopped him, but he's my big brother and I just wasn't strong enough."

"You wouldn't happen to know how he knew where Captain Banks was by any chance?" Jim had asked.

Jeffreys had looked down at the table. "I suppose you already know, but I told him. I know I shouldn't have, and I'm sorry I did. But I just wanted it to be over."

Jim had left the room after that. Lonnie wasn't his problem anymore. He had to concentrate on his brother, Damien Jeffreys. He had immediately had Brown do a background check on Damien Jeffreys. He was just waiting for him to get back with the information.

The door to the observation room opened then and Brown walked in with a file folder in his hand.

"Hey Jim. I just got that information back on Damien Jeffreys. He is seriously bad news, man," Brown said.

"What do you got?" Jim asked.

"Well, let's see," Brown said as he opened the file folder. "First off, he was a cop. About twenty years ago, he was fresh out of the academy, a little rough around the edges but basically a good cop. Then a couple of years later, he and his partner are checking out a warehouse down by the waterfront. Long story short, they get into a shootout, and a stray bullet strikes this steam pipe that was right next to Jeffreys. He gets a face full of hot steam, burns his entire face real bad. I mean we're talking Freddy Krueger style. It scarred him for life, both figuratively and literally. After that, nothing. It's like he disappeared off the face of the earth, so I did a little more digging. Turns out, he moved to Phoenix, Arizona. I talked to the Phoenix PD. They told me that he murdered his wife and has spent the last fifteen or so years in a mental institution for the criminally insane until recently when someone broke him out. Three guesses on who."

They both looked at Lonnie sitting in the interrogation room.

"Great. One more charge to add to his growing rap sheet. But that still doesn't explain why he's after Simon," Jim said, turning to Brown.

"Oh, that's easy. Simon was his partner when he…got his face burned off."

Jim sighed and rubbed his face. Why was there always someone out there wanting revenge against one of them? It's like a never ending cycle of crazies, weirdoes, and psychos wanting revenge when most of the time it was no one's fault.

"Alright. Let me call Simon and let him know that we got a positive ID on our suspect," Jim said as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the loft number. His brow furrowed in worry when, after several rings, there was no answer. "No one's answering,"

"You think something happened?" Brown asked.

"I don't know, but I'm going to check on them. You let me know if you find out anything else," Jim said as he left the room, heading toward the elevator.

Jim tried to call several times on his way back to the loft, and every time he got no answer it just increased his worry a even more. He was tempted to turn on the lights and sirens so he could get there faster, but he refrained because he didn't actually know if anything was wrong just yet. He drove as fast as he could nonetheless until finally he screeched into a parking space in front of the loft.

He got out of the car and looked up at the loft. Everything seemed fine on the outside. He looked around and saw the police cruiser assigned to watch the loft sitting across the street. Something didn't feel right so he decided to go talk to the officer to see if he's seen anything. As he was walking across the street, the smell of blood hit him like a punch in the face. He ran around to the driver side of the cruiser and saw the officer slumped over the steering wheel. His neck had been slit wide open. Blood covered his neck and down his shirt. His neck was a gory mess of blood and muscle.

"Shit," Jim muttered as he ran back across the street while avoiding traffic. He focused his hearing on the loft as he raced inside and up the stairs. He could hear one heartbeat, slow and steady, and he knew it to be Blair's. The fact that he couldn't hear Simon's filled him with fear. Oh god, I hope he's not dead already, he thought.

He burst through the loft door and immediately his eyes went to Blair lying on the floor unconscious. He did a quick sweep of the loft and saw no sign of Simon, and that both relieved and terrified him. He was relieved because that meant Simon might still be alive and terrified because that also meant that Jeffreys most likely took Simon, and he had no idea what he was planning on doing to his friend. Pushing those thoughts aside, he hurried to his prone friend's side and knelt down next to him.

"Sandburg? Chief, can you hear me?" Jim asked as he gently put his hand on Blair's head. He could feel a large, bloody lump on the back of his head, but could see no other injuries.

Blair groaned and opened his eyes. His head was pounding, his vision was blurry, and his ears were ringing, but he still heard, or at least thought he heard, Jim's voice.

"Jim? Is that you?" he asked groggily as he tried to push himself up.

"Yeah, buddy. Easy. Take it slow," Jim replied, as he helped Blair sit up. He didn't like the glassy look in Blair's eyes and feared the kid may have a pretty bad concussion.

Blair put his hand to the back of his head. "Ouch," he moaned as his fingers brushed the sensitive lump on his head.

"Yeah, you took a pretty hard hit," Jim said as he gently probed Blair's skull for any fractures.

"Where's Simon?" Blair asked.

"Gone. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Um…we were on the couch talking and then we heard a noise from my room. Then something broke through one of my windows. It looked like a metal canister. It emitted this bright flash of light and this loud noise. Man, my ears are still ringing. After that, I don't know. I think someone hit me."

Jim looked around and spotted the canister Blair was talking about. "It's a flash bang grenade."

"Oh, that makes sense. How did he get one of those?"

"Probably from his brother." Seeing the questioning look on Blair's face, he explained. "Lonnie Jeffreys is a cop."

"Oh you gotta be kidding me. So I take it you know who it is then."

"Yeah," Jim replied as he helped Blair to stand and then guided him to a nearby chair. "Damien Jeffreys. He was…"

"Simon's partner, I know," Blair interrupted. "Simon told me about him. It's horrible what happened to him."

"Don't start feeling sorry for him yet, Chief. Yes, it was horrible, but it also made him crazy. He murdered his wife in cold blood simply because she looked at him differently. He's spent the last fifteen years in a mental institution, and now he's got Simon, doing who knows what to him right now. Plus, he murdered the police officer that was watching the loft. He's doesn't deserve our sympathy anymore."

Blair looked at him with wide eyes. The officer that had been there to protect Simon was dead? He hadn't known that. He had thought that perhaps Jeffreys just managed to get by him somehow. And he killed his wife just because of the way she looked at him? Who does that? How could someone do such a thing? He couldn't imagine.

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jim. I didn't know all that. Okay, so we need to find Simon." He looked around the loft. "See if you can find anything. He came in through my room so let's start in there." He started to get up.

"You stay put, Chief," Jim said before Blair could finish the motion. "You took a pretty good knock to the head. I don't want you moving around too soon."

Halfway up, Blair sat back down with a reluctant nod. Truthfully, his head was pounding, and it was starting to get worse.

Jim hesitated a moment, concerned that Blair didn't put up more of a fight. Then, with a shrug, he continued into Blair's room. He cast a sensory net around the room, trying to find any clues as to where Jeffreys may have taken Simon, but the guy was apparently very good at covering his tracks. Nothing seemed to be disturbed. There were no footprints or fingerprints that Jim could see, and the only broken window in the room was the one that the canister broke through. There were some scratches on the lock on the door leading out to the fire escape, which suggests that Jeffreys had picked the lock, but that was about it. Nothing that could help him.

When Jim left the room, he saw Blair rubbing his forehead, his brow wrinkled. Jim could tell his head was killing him, and he was beginning to get really worried now.

"Sandburg, are you all right?" Jim asked as he approached the young man.

"Yeah, my head hurts. That's all."

"Alright. I'm taking you down to the hospital, get you checked out."

"No," Blair protested quickly, whipping his head up to look at Jim, which just made his head hurt even worse. With a groan, he put his hand to his forehead again. "Look, that could take hours, and Simon doesn't have that kind of time. Besides, I don't think this is because of the head injury." The dull ache was transforming into a sharp familiar throb. It was the same kind of pain that had preceded the last vision he'd had.

Jim looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Blair turned slightly panicked eyes on Jim as images started to invade his mind.

Jim's eyes widened as realization hit. "Vision?" he asked, and Blair nodded. "Um…okay…uh…" Jim tried frantically to think of what to do or say to help his friend. He had never been in this situation before. He tried to think what Blair would say to him if their roles were reversed. He placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. "Okay, Chief. Take deep breaths. Try to relax. Concentrate on my voice. Concentrate on my hand on your shoulder, and just let the images come to you."

Jim could see Blair doing as he instructed. Then Blair got this faraway look in his eyes, and Jim guessed that he was deep in the vision now. It was a little unnerving seeing him with this blank stare like that, like he was in a catatonic state. He wondered if that was what he looked like when he was in a zone out. If so, then he had a newfound respect for the kid because he certainly didn't like seeing Blair that way.

After a few minutes that felt like an eternity, Blair blinked and shook his head. Then he turned frightened eyes on Jim.

"Chief, are you okay?" Jim asked worriedly.

"Oh god. He's not just going to kill Simon. He's going to maim him. He's going to make Simon suffer like he suffered," Blair said frantically.

Jim's jaw tightened. "Did you see where?" he asked.

"It's in a warehouse," Blair replied.

"There are lots of different warehouses in Cascade, Chief. You want to be a little more specific?" He knew he was being harsh, but Simon's life was at stake. He would apologize to the kid later.

"Alright. Alright," Blair said quickly, not taking offense to Jim's harsh tone. He knew the sentinel was just worried about his friend. He thought back to his vision and tried to picture where it was. "I didn't see an address, but it was down by the waterfront."

"The waterfront," Jim said, thinking back to what Brown had told him about Damien Jeffreys. He quickly picked up the cordless phone and dialed Brown's number. When the line was picked up, Jim said, "Brown, can you get me an address on the warehouse where Damien Jeffreys had his accident?"

"Sure. I can do that. What's up?" Brown asked.

Jim sighed. "He has Simon."

"What!" Brown exclaimed. "How did that happen?"

"He killed the officer on duty and knocked Sandburg out. It looks like it just happened so we can't be too far behind. I think he took Simon to this warehouse. We need to get over there right now."

"Is Hairboy okay?" Brown asked.

Jim smiled a little at the concern he could hear in Brown's voice. "Yeah, he's fine. Just one of hell of a headache. Now will you get me that address please?"

"Oh right."

As soon Brown gave him the address, he thanked him and hung up.

"Alright. Let's go," Jim said.

Blair got up slowly to avoid aggravating his head injury and followed Jim to the door. "Do you think he really took Simon there?" he asked as he put his jacket on.

"It's the only thing that makes sense, Chief. Besides, it's all we have to go on." He looked carefully at Blair, noticing the pinched brow and the slightly pale complexion. "Are you sure you're up for this? I think you should stay here."

"No way, man. I'm not staying here. Simon's my friend too, and I'm going."

Flashing back to the time Simon and his son had been stranded in the Peruvian jungle after their helicopter had gone down and Blair had said the same thing, Jim nodded. He couldn't say he was surprised.

"Alright. Let's get going."

When Simon regained consciousness, his first thought was, what did I have to drink last night? Then he remembered he didn't have anything to drink last night. He was kidnapped. He slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurry at first, but then his surroundings came into focus. He was tied to a chair in a very large, very empty warehouse, and he couldn't help thinking, why does everything happen in a warehouse? Turning his head to the right, he saw that his chair had been placed right next to a large pipe.

"Good. You're awake finally."

A man in a black ski mask, whom he could only assume was Damien, stepped out of the shadows.

"Hello Simon. Long time, no see. Remember me?" Before Simon could answer, Damien continued speaking. "No? Maybe this will refresh your memory." He reached his hand up and pulled the ski mask off.

Simon closed his eyes for a brief moment. He couldn't bear to see the horribly disfigured face of the man he once called friend. He was sorry Damien had to go through life looking like that, even though twenty years ago he still would have been his friend if he'd let him. But still, that was no excuse for doing what he was doing. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked Damien straight in the eyes.

"Hello Damien," he said.

"So you do remember me. Good. That'll make things easier. So, welcome back to the scene of the crime." He spread his arms out to encompass the entire area. "Recognize this place?"

Simon looked around, and for a moment, it just looked like any other of a thousand warehouses he'd been too in his career. But then he looked at the pipe next to him, and he knew.

"This is…"

"That's right," Damien interrupted. "This is where it happened. This is where it all started. This is where my life went to shit. Fitting it should end here, don't you think?"

"Damien, you don't have to do this," Simon said.

"Don't I? I think I do. You know, my life was perfect before that day. I had a beautiful wife, a nice house, a great career that I loved, and a friend and partner I thought I could trust. And then I lost my face so to speak, and suddenly I was a freak of nature. I was a monster. Molly couldn't even bare to look at me. Apparently, she couldn't stand being married to a freak. So I killed her."

Simon's eyes widened. "You what! How could you do that?!" he exclaimed. He had met Molly on several occasions. He and Joan had even gone out on double dates with Damien and Molly a few times. He couldn't believe he had killed her.

"She drove me to it," Damien snapped. "I've spent the last fifteen years in a mental institution, and you know, all I could think about the whole time was that this was all your fault."

Simon shook his head. He used to believe that, but not anymore. He realized now that there was nothing he could have done to prevent what happened.

"You're wrong. It's wasn't my fault," he said.

"Oh no? Partners are supposed to watch out for each other. They're supposed to watch each other's backs. Where were you?"

"I was right next to you if you recall, getting shot at too. So don't tell me I wasn't there," Simon snapped. "Besides, I wasn't the one who wanted to go in there before backup arrived."

"So you're blaming this on me then!"

"No!" Simon sighed, trying to calm his anger down. "Of course not," he continued in a quieter voice, "All I'm saying is that we couldn't have known what was going to happen when we went into that building. It was no one's fault. It was an accident."

Damien's eyes flashed in anger. "An accident! My life was destroyed that day, and you're telling me it was an accident? No, you failed in your duty as a partner. Now you have a nice house, a family. You're even captain of Major Crimes, and what do I got? Nothing! Well, guess what? Now, you're going to suffer like I've suffered. We'll see how many friends and family members you have left when your face looks like mine."

Simon looked at the pipe next to him and realized what Damien had in mind. His heart pounding in fear, he looked at his former partner and tried to stall. Hopefully, Jim will figure out where they are soon.

"Look, Damien, you don't have to do this. I'm sorry for what happened to you. I really am. I would have been there for if you'd have let me."

"SHUT UP!" Damien screamed. "That's bullshit! Yeah, you visited me a couple of times. That don't mean shit."

"I only stopped coming because you wouldn't talk to me, wouldn't even look at me. I got tired of the silent treatment. You drove me away. That was your fault."

"My fault! That's a load of…" Damien stopped and narrowed his eyes at Simon suspiciously. "Wait a minute. Are you trying to stall?"

Simon shook his head. No, he couldn't have figured that out that fast. Then again, he had been a good cop back in the day.

"You are, aren't you? That's very good, Simon. You had me going. But don't bother. Your cop friend—who seems to be everywhere, I'm still trying to figure that out—won't find us. And even if he does, I left a little present for him."

He looked back toward the front door where there was a chair with a shotgun sitting on it with the barrel pointed at the door. Simon knew that it was rigged to go off if anyone opened that door. He flashed back to when he almost got caught in a similar trap when they were chasing after Ray Weston. He almost lost his head, but luckily Jim was able to hear it being triggered and pushed him out of the way in time. He just hoped that Jim would be able to do it again. Because he knew that Jim would figure out where they were. He had confidence in that.

I just hope he finds me in time, he thought.

Jim pulled up in front of the darkened warehouse in Simon's car, double checking to make sure he was at the right address. His was the only car there. It looked like backup hadn't arrived yet.

"Looks like we're the first ones here," Blair stated.

Jim didn't answer as he stared up at the dilapidated building, trying to figure out what he should do.

"Alright. I want you…"

"Don't tell me to stay in the car," Blair interrupted. "Because we both know that I'm not going to. Now if you're going to go in there now instead of waiting for backup, which I know you are, then I'm not letting you go in there alone. You need me."

Jim sighed and clenched his jaw in frustration. The kid was as stubborn as a mule, but he didn't have time to argue so he relented.

"Alright, but you stay behind me."

Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like I'm going to go first," he said sarcastically.

Jim glared at him before opening his door and stepping out. He turned up his hearing to see if there was anyone in the building. He could hear two voices, one he recognized as Simon. He relaxed a fraction, relieved that he was all right and that they had found him before that bastard did anything to him.

"They're in there," Jim said as Blair came around the car and joined him on the driver's side.

"Okay. Good. At least we know we're at the right place. So what do we do now?"

"We go in quietly. I don't want to announce ourselves before backup arrives," Jim replied.

Jim approached the warehouse slowly and quietly with Blair close behind. Pulling out his gun, he reached for the doorknob, testing to see if it was locked. When he realized that it wasn't, he slowly started to turn the knob but stopped when he heard a sound, like the sound of a string or a wire being pulled taut and tightening around the knob as it turned. He knew that sound and knew exactly what it meant.

"Damn," he swore.

"What?" Blair asked.

"I think there's a shotgun on the other side of this door rigged to go off if the door is opened."

"What? So what do we do?" Blair asked.

"I'm going to go around back and see if there's another way in," Jim replied. He turned to Blair. "I want you to get on the radio and let the backup officers know not to come in the front door."

Blair opened his mouth to protest, but Jim interrupted him before he could get a word out.

"Don't argue with me, Sandburg. We have to let the backup officers know about the trapped door before one of them walks in and triggers it. Now go."

Blair closed his mouth and pursed his lips before nodding. He hated letting Jim go in there alone, but he knew that the sentinel had a point. He watched as Jim disappeared around the side of the building before sprinting to Simon's car.

Jim moved swiftly and silently down the alley to the back where he finally found another door. He slowly turned the knob, listening for any telltale sounds of this door being trapped as well. When he didn't hear anything, he turned the knob a bit further until it opened. He peered inside, turning up his sight so he could see better in the darkened room. It looked to be a small room, possibly a store room at one point but now it was empty. Creeping inside, he found a second door that led out to the main part of the warehouse, which was where the voices were coming from.

He stood at the door listening for a few minutes and grew more concerned as the voices started to get very heated. He was hoping to wait until backup arrived before he did anything, but he knew now that he couldn't. He had to intervene before Jeffreys did something rash that could cost Simon a hefty price.

Preparing himself, he whipped the door open and stepped out, pointing his gun at the man standing next to Simon who was tied to a chair.

"Freeze! Police!" he yelled.

Jeffreys' head whipped around and he snarled. "Oh, you've got to be shitting me."

"Step away from him," Jim ordered.

Instead of doing what he was told, Jeffreys pulled out a gun and put it to the side of Simon's head. "You know, you're really beginning to tick me off, detective, is it? Guess I should have killed you when I had the chance."

Jim's face remained passive as he attempted to talk the man down. "This isn't going to go the way you want it, Jeffreys. Just put down the gun and step away."

"No, you put your gun down or I'll blow his fucking brains out. Not exactly what I had in mind when I brought him here, but it works nonetheless."

Jim gripped his gun a little tighter. "If you kill him, you better believe that I will kill you," he said in a voice that was quiet but menacing all at the same time.

Jeffreys just laughed. "Do I look like I care? Personally, you'd be doing me a favor. At least I wouldn't have to live out the rest of my life looking like this, but at least I'll have carried out my revenge first. Now if you don't want to see your friend die right in front of you, I suggest you put the gun down now."

Jim's jaw muscle twitched. He really didn't want to give up his gun, but he really didn't see a choice in the matter. So he slowly knelt down and placed his gun on the ground. "Alright. I put my gun down, see?"

"Very good. Now kick it over here."

Jim kicked the gun across the room.

Jeffreys smiled and pointed his gun at Jim instead. "You should have stayed away, Detective. Now, you die."

"JIM!" Simon screamed a split second before a deafening gunshot filled the air.

Blair stood next to Simon's car tapping his foot for a few minutes. He had made the call to dispatch about the trapped door and now he was thinking what he should do next. He couldn't just stand out here like a dope. He had to do something to help Jim and Simon. So he made his way around the back until he found the door he assumed Jim had entered. He quietly slipped inside and waited a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then he tiptoed to the slightly open door and peered through the crack.

What he saw made his stomach churn. Jim was holding a gun on Damien Jeffreys, and Jeffreys was holding a gun on Simon. This could not end well. If he didn't do something, one or both of them could get killed. His mind worked frantically through all the possible scenarios he could try. Then it was like a light bulb went on in his head. He smiled and quietly slipped back outside and ran around to the front of the warehouse. What he was about to try was crazy, and Jim would probably kill him for it, but it was the only thing he could think of that could work.

He walked to the front door and stopped just to the side of it. Oh man, I can't believe I'm going to do this, he thought. But if I stay to the side I should be okay. Hopefully. He made sure he was completely to the side of the door, and after taking a deep breath, he reached out his hand and turned the knob.

The shotgun blast was deafening as he instinctively ducked as he was showered with splinters of wood. Then he had to sit down because that blast just penetrated his brain like a railroad spike. It was up to Jim now. Hopefully that was enough of a distraction for Jim to get the upper hand.

For a split second, Jim thought that he had been hit and that his brain just hadn't registered it yet. He waited for the pain to come, but it never did. Then he saw Jeffreys' head whip around, and he realized that the gunshot had come from the shotgun at the front door. Someone must have triggered it. He didn't have time to worry if someone had gotten shot though. Jeffreys was distracted. Now was his chance to get the drop on him. As soon as Damien's back was turned, Jim sprinted across the space between them and tackled him to the ground, knocking the gun out of his hand.

They wrestled on the ground, trading blows with one another. Jim punched Jeffrey's in the jaw, and Damien reciprocated with a hit to the temple followed by another and another. Dazed, Jim still managed to block the next attack followed by a jab to the cheek, knocking Jeffreys off of him. Hunched over and breathing heavily, Damien reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the tazer he had used against Jim earlier.

Jim, shaking off the pain and disorientation, was just getting up for round two when Jeffreys launched himself at him with the tazer. Jim was ready for it this time. He grabbed Damien's arm and twisted it around his back. He then jammed the tazer into Damien's back and pushed the button. Volts of electricity went through Jeffreys' body, and with a cry of pain, he collapsed to his knees. Jim knocked him out before he could recover.

"How do you like it?" Jim said breathlessly as he tossed the tazer aside and pulled out his handcuffs. Once the psychopath was secure, he went over to Simon. "How you doing, Simon?" he asked as he untied the captain's hands.

"I'm fine," Simon replied. Once he was free, he stood up, rubbing his raw wrists. "Are you okay?"

Jim wiped off some blood from a split lip. "Yeah, I'll be all right."

It was at that moment that the backup officers finally arrived. Seeing that everything was under control, the uniforms quickly secured the scene and took the perp into custody. Rafe and Brown, however, went straight to Simon and Jim.

"Captain! Are you okay?" Rafe asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Simon replied, smiling at the concern his two detectives were showing for him.

"Oh boy, that's a relief," Brown said. "Major Crimes just wouldn't have been the same without you." He looked at Jim and his eyebrows rose. "Whoa, Jim. Are you all right? You look like you went ten rounds with Mike Tyson."

Jim gave him the patented Ellison glare. "Gee, H. That makes me feel so much better," he said sarcastically. "I'm fine."

"Good. You might want to go check on Hairboy though. He's sitting outside, looks like he's got a major headache. We'll take care of the scene."

Jim and Simon traded glances before hurrying outside. Once outside, Jim spotted Blair on the left side sitting against the wall with his head in his hands. He knelt down in front of the kid and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Chief, are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Blair lifted his head very slowly and squinted at the detective. "Jim?" Then his eyes went to Simon standing just behind Jim and he smiled. "Simon, you're okay."

Simon gave a smile in return as he knelt down next to Jim. "Yeah, kid. I'm all right. I wish I could say the same thing about you."

"Me? I'm fine. Just a little headache is all." Blair brushed off their concern.

Jim wasn't buying it though. With a glance at the large hole in the door, he concluded that Sandburg had to have been standing right next to it when the shotgun went off. That definitely would have made Blair's headache worse. He returned his gaze to Blair.

"You set off that shotgun trap, didn't you?" he asked.

Blair looked at him sheepishly. "Well, I figured it would make a good distraction. Did it work?"

Jim smiled. "Yeah, Chief. It worked. Now c'mon. We're taking a little trip to the hospital," he said as he stood up and offered a hand to Blair.

Blair made a face. "Aw Jim. C'mon. I don't need to go to the hospital," he said as he accepted Jim's hand.

As soon as Jim pulled him to his feet, he immediately began to sway. Both Simon and Jim grabbed an arm to steady him.

"You were saying," Jim said.

"Okay, so I'm a little dizzy," Blair said, still refusing to admit that he might need to go to the hospital.

"Yeah, you're not getting out of it. There are no excuses this time, Chief. Now let's go," Jim said as he gently guided his friend to Simon's car. "You coming, Simon?"

"Yes, considering it is my car you're taking," Simon replied as he held out his hand for the keys.

"Oh right," Jim said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the car keys, tossing them to Simon.

"So how did you two find me anyway?" Simon inquired as they all got into the car.

"Oh, uh, I had another vision," Blair replied, still a little embarrassed talking about it with the captain.

"Oh, okay. This vision thing is going to take some getting used to," Simon said, shaking his head as he started up the car.

"Join the club," Blair muttered.

"But I am grateful," Simon added, looking back at the young man in the back seat. "Thank you. Both of you."

Blair smiled brightly. Maybe this vision thing won't be so bad after all. Now that Simon knew, that's one less person to keep it a secret from, and if it hadn't been for these visions, a lot of his friends would be dead now. If that was the end result, he could get used to the visions. Now if only it didn't hurt so much.

The End