Disclaimers: Pet Fly owns the boys, not me. No money, only satisfaction. Just need to borrow the boys for a bit, will return them alive if not unharmed.

Special thanks to Ari for a superb beta job.

Thanks to wolfpup for my fanfic home.

Spoilers: none.

Warnings: H/C, light smarm.

ZONE OUT

Sam Mallory

"Get back in the damn truck, Sandburg!" Jim yelled at his partner.

"You need me, so deal! Backup's on the way," Blair snapped. Keeping low to the ground, Blair made his way to his crouching partner. "Look, you've already zoned three times on this case because I wasn't with you to watch your back and this is one time you don't get to go it alone, okay?"

Jim scowled, remembering his previous zones at the crime scenes and how Simon had to bring him out of it. Knowing Sandburg would not budge on this, he nodded his acceptance as he pulled his mouth into a tight line, his jaw working to grind his teeth to dust, as his gaze swept back toward the warehouse.

Blair ducked as the perp fired another volley of shots in their direction. He flinched as he heard them ping against the metal drums they were taking cover behind.

Jim returned fire, dropped his spent clip and replaced it in one fluid practiced motion. Cocking his head to the side, eyes closed, he listened for the whereabouts of the perpetrator.

"You got him?" Blair whispered, his hand gently touching Jim's forearm.

Jim nodded and took aim at the crates fifteen feet ahead of his position, then froze waiting for the perp to show himself again. As the perp squeezed of his rounds, Jim returned fire to bring the man to his knees piggybacking his sight onto his hearing.

Bringing his senses back to baseline caused an involuntary gasp to escape from between his tight lips. "Blair," he cried out, as he realized that the observer was down at his side moaning in pain, holding his left arm.

"Oh... God... hurts," Blair groaned, rocking in the fetal position as tears of pain rolled down his face. "Did you get him?"

"Yeah," Then taking his partner's arm gently in his hand, he began to examine it. "It's okay, Blair. It doesn't look too bad. Just caught the fleshy part of the arm and went right through," Jim informed him as he tried to stop the flow of the blood. As he watched the blood drip down Blair's arm, he became cognizant of the individual blood cells, which his mind's eye broke down to the molecular level.

Blair hissed in pain as Jim placed pressure on the wound. "'m okay," he repeated his mantra in an effort to gain control over the pain. His other hand clutched his hair to redirect his focus. Breathing heavily, he glanced up at his Sentinel.

"Oh, shit," Blair swore under his breath. "Come on back, Jim. You're safe. I'm safe. It's okay to come back now. Don't you leave me here bleeding. Come on... come on," he begged through clenched teeth. Blair pulled his fingers from his hair and brought them gently to rest on his Sentinel's cheek. "Jim, come on," he pled again, taking the black and blue flannel shirt from around his waist and wrapping it around his bleeding arm. "Damn, I liked this shirt, too," he groaned, bringing his attention back to his zoning Sentinel.

Blair inhaled deeply and narrowed his focus further. "Jim, you will hear me and listen. You must come back to me, right now!" Blair grimaced as he worked his injured arm out of Jim's slackening grasp. He brought both his hands to Jim's face and turned it gently to face him. Exhaling heavily into Jim's face hoping to trigger his sense of smell, he caressed his friend's cheeks and began his mantra yet again. "Jim, you will come back to me now. I am your Guide and you will heed my voice. Now do it, damnit!" His voice raised with increasing panic. Checking Jim's watch, he's been zoned for 8 minutes, shit! he thought wildly.

Blair continued to stimulate Jim's senses trying everything he could think of. "Damnit, Jim. Come on! Help me out here!" His worry giving in to anger.

Blair waited for a moment to give his Sentinel time to respond, but there was no response from his partner. Blair grimaced as he realized extreme measures might be necessary. Jim had already been out for almost fifteen minutes.

"Come on, man, it never takes me this long to bring you out," Blair grated, begging.

Pulling himself mere inches from his partner's face, he exhaled again allowing his scent to permeate Jim's senses, then gritting his teeth not only for his pain, but the pain he was about to inflict, Blair raked his fingernails down his Sentinel's forearms drawing blood as his nails tore through Jim's sensitive skin.

Jim flinched at the sudden onslaught of pain in his arms, gasping as his eyes came to awareness. He jerked his arms out of Blair's hands and glared angrily.

"Sorry, Jim, but you've been under awhile and I couldn't bring you back any other way. I tried, so don't look at me like that," Blair warned, glaring down his Sentinel. "What happened? That was, like, a major zone out, man. I thought for a minute I wouldn't be able to bring you back! You scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry, Chief," Jim apologized, shaking his head from side to side to regain his bearings. "Let's get out of here." Jim stood shakily and made way for Simon as he walked onto the scene.

"You look like shit, Jim! I've got the uniforms marking the perimeter. Perp is dead. That's one rapist who will never hurt another living soul. What the hell happened here?" Simon barked. "Sandburg, was he zoned, again? I thought you were supposed to be helping with that," Simon accused, much more quietly than his initial tirade.

"He zoned, he's back. Okay? That's why I'm here, and he was way out and I'm way too tired, Simon," Blair snapped aggravated at the insinuation that he wasn't doing his job. The hell I'm not doing my job, he thought angrily, glaring at Simon.

"Look Sandburg, I didn't mean to step on your toes. He's just been spending a little too much time in the zone lately. I'm worried," Simon admitted to the younger man.

"You and me both," Blair whispered, pulling his fingers through his tangled curls.

"We'll fill out the reports later. I've gotta get home, now! Blair, let's go!" Jim hissed, taking Blair's arm and dragging him bodily to the truck.

Blair, startled by his Sentinel's actions, made his way to the truck quickly and quietly. He knew better than to test Jim's patience when he was in this mood.

He climbed into the truck to wait for Jim who jumped into the truck quickly and started the engine.

"So what was that all about, big guy?" Blair asked anxiously as his eyes darted over Jim's stern facial features. He winced as he pressed the pressure dressing onto his left arm. He had grabbed it out of the first aid kit when he got into the truck.

"We'll talk at the loft," Jim cut off any further inquisition with the raising of his right hand and his acidic expression.

Blair sighed as he thought about what was plaguing his Sentinel. It must be something really huge. I'm sitting here bleeding all over the front seat and not only has he not flown into Blessed Protector/Mother Hen Ellison mode, but he doesn't even seem to notice, Blair thought distractedly.

They pulled up in front of the loft half an hour later and Jim hurriedly made his way upstairs. Blair struggled with his sluggish steps, feeling lightheaded from the loss of blood.

When Blair reached the loft, he sighed as he stepped through the door and tossed his keys into the basket haphazardly. Jim was prowling the loft.

"Jim, what the hell's going on?" Blair demanded as he sunk into the couch.

Jim sat on the coffee table in front of him and inhaled deeply as he decided where to begin. "Something's wrong, Chief."

Blair dropped into pure Guide mode easily. "Yeah, I kinda noticed," Blair ranted, stopping cold at the lost, desperate blue eyes staring back at him. "What is it, Jim?" he asked anxiously.

Jim paused as he tried to order his thoughts.

"Come on, man. You're scaring the hell out of me, here. Again!" Blair complained.

"Sorry, Chief. I just don't know where to start," Jim choked out in exasperation.

"'kay," Blair began, inhaling deeply to instill the calmness that eluded him. "Well let's start with what senses are affected?"

"Sight definitely and hearing to some degree," Jim started, jumping up from the table, pacing the room anxiously.

"Your sight's affected and you drove home?" Blair yelled, terrified at the loss of control that his Sentinel was experiencing and hoping that whatever the problem he'd be able to fix it.

"Can it, Sandburg. I wouldn't have driven if I had thought I was dangerous. I just don't know what the hell's going on. I don't remember much for a few minutes before the zone and I can't shake this thing with my sight," Jim's shaking voice filled the loft.

"Come here and sit down, Jim," Blair said gently, patting the couch next to him. Jim crossed the room and settled next to Blair, his hand tapping his leg in agitation.

Blair placed his hand gently over his Sentinel's to convey his support. "What's going on with your eyes?" Blair tried again. At Jim's pained expression he tried another tact. "Just look at me and tell me what you see."

Jim looked over his Guide. "Oh my God, Blair. You've been shot!" he exclaimed his mouth dropped in shock.

"Yeah, you checked it out already. It's just a scratch, but it hurts like hell." Blair assured as Jim leaped from the couch to retrieve the first aid kit from the bathroom.

Jim returned to his partner's side and began to clean his wound. Blair winced as the antiseptic entered the wound, then blew out a puff of air before biting on his lip to redirect the pain.

Jim bandaged the wound and patted Blair on the shoulder. "That ought to do it, Chief," he reassured gently. "I can't believe that I didn't notice that my Guide was injured. What the hell is wrong with me?" Jim demanded, his agitation level rising.

Blair reached up to place his hand gently on his Sentinel's face. "We'll figure it out together," he reassured his friend. "Let's start with something simple. Do you remember what you zoned on?"

Jim paused thinking for a moment then nodded. "Your blood," he replied with a sigh.

"Okay, that's happened before so at least we're on familiar ground," Blair reassured his agitated Sentinel, as he grabbed a pen and paper from the coffee table.

"Not like this, Sandburg," Jim paused, and then with a hitch of his breath began again. "I can't see any color, Chief. Everything is in shades of grey. I don't understand how that could happen," Jim finished, getting up to pace the room blindly.

"No colors at all?" At Jim's negative nod, Blair made some notes and then continued. "Okay, what about your hearing? What's going on with it?"

"Sounds like I'm underwater for awhile and then I get this loud spike, then back to the underwater sounds. I don't know, Chief. It's really weird. My senses seem dull, like they've been short circuited," Jim snapped as he came around the coffee table. "What caused this?" Jim looked up at Blair with a pained expression as he brought up his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Let's think about this for a minute... You zoned on my blood. You've done that before so what was different this time? Come here, Jim. Sit down and close your eyes," Blair directed confidently, but soothingly to his off balance Sentinel.

Jim crossed the loft in three large steps and dropped down exhaustively next to his partner. "Good! Now, take a deep breath and relax. That's it, big guy..." Blair's right hand ghosted across his Sentinel's back to keep him grounded and centered. "You're safe. We're just going to take a look at what happened out there... okay? We arrived in the truck... what happened next?" Blair prompted.

Jim took another deep breath before beginning his litany. "I got out of the truck and made it to some barrels on the east side of the warehouse." Jim paused as he played the morning back in his memory. "The perp fired four shots at me and I returned fire on his position... I heard the door of the truck shut and looked up to see you crossing over to my position. I yelled for you to get back in the truck, but you never listen," Jim accused, his hands folded tensely in his lap, the knuckles white with the effort.

Blair smiled slightly as he watched Jim scowl at these last words.

"It's okay, big guy. Everybody's okay," Blair reassured Jim once again. "What happened next?"

Jim sighed deeply. "I used sight and sound to locate the perp and focused my sights to take him down the next time he fired," Jim continued factually, his face emotionless. "The perp fired and I took him out. Then back up arrived and took him into custody."

Jim gasped suddenly and leapt from the couch. "I don't wanna do this anymore. I'm going to bed, Blair. Goodnight!" Jim finished curtly, eyes downcast, as he turned on his heel and stalked up the stairs.

"Jim, what happened?" Blair questioned, unnerved by the sudden change in Jim's behavior, as he started to follow Jim up the stairs.

"I'm just tired, Chief. We can finish tomorrow. Goodnight," Jim snapped, sitting down heavily on the bed.

"Okay, man. Goodnight, but we will talk tomorrow," Blair promised as he headed to his room to retrieve the papers he had to have graded by the next morning.

Jim stripped down to boxers wearily and crawled into his bed still haunted by what his memory regression had uncovered. After an hour of tossing and turning, he finally fell into a restless sleep.

"Nooooo!"

Blair flinched as the tortured scream startled him from his "nap" on the couch, where he had settled when sleep eluded him as his thoughts were plagued by worry for Jim. Papers floated to the floor as he jumped from the couch and flew up the stairs two at a time.

Jim was tangled within his blankets trying to break free from the nightmare he wrestled.

Blair approached the bed cautiously, mindful of his roommate's covert ops training and laid a gentle hand upon Jim's shoulder. "Jim, wake up. It's okay, you're safe," he cooed as he attempted to soothe his frightened Sentinel.

Jim moaned, then sat bolt upright as he awoke violently from his punishing horror.

"Blair?" he gasped.

"Yeah, it's me. Wanna talk about it?" Blair asked gently, using his most reassuring Guide voice, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Jim shook his head and turned away from his Guide.

"Jim, I know that you are afraid of something. You have to tell me what it is. You couldn't earlier, but now it's causing you to have nightmares, man. You've got to get it out or I can't help you," Blair reasoned.

"I... didn't hear," Jim whispered Sentinel soft.

"Jim, you're the Sentinel man, you're gonna have to say it a bit louder," Blair teased gently.

"I didn't hear," Jim tried again, with more voice.

"Didn't hear what?" Blair asked, genuinely confused.

"You. My hearing was so focused on the perp that I lost you and you got shot. I never heard the bullet coming. I failed to protect you. Then my senses all went crazy," Jim explained with a heavy heart. "Some Blessed Protector. I didn't even notice you got shot and then forgot all about it five minutes later."

"Jim, you know that you can't stop every bullet. You know that sometimes you can't be there. You're a human being, not Superman," Blair reminded his wayward Sentinel. "Are you still having trouble with the senses?"

"Yeah," Jim replied as he scrubbed his face wearily.

"They were fine yesterday, until I got hit, right?" Blair asked with trepidation, the wheels in his brain turning.

"Yeah, that was the only zone out yesterday," Jim replied hesitantly.

Blair smiled broadly as he thumped himself in the forehead. "I don't know why I didn't think of this earlier. Maybe the loss of blood from my brain. Jim, I think I know why your senses have gone haywire!" Blair bounced up from the bed and started pacing furiously around the room.

"Well?" Jim asked, barely holding his irritation in check.

"Bear with me a second, Jim. Okay, you use me as your baseline for your senses, right?" At Jim's affirmative nod, Blair continued. "When your intense concentration caused you to lose contact with me and upon reacquisition you found out that I was injured, it threw you into a sort of sensory overload. You haven't been able to get your senses to go back online because you feel guilty about what happened," Blair finished smugly, smiling at having figured out the Sentinel's problem.

"And?" Jim snapped.

"And what? Let go of the guilt and everything should come back online. It wasn't your fault, Jim. You're my Blessed Protector, not Superman. It's time to let it go and get some rest," Blair demanded gently, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder.

Jim sighed as he thought of the revelation that Blair had just made and the ramifications that this held for him. His Guide was safe, well within his territory. Taking a deep breath, Jim did the most difficult thing he could possibly think of - he let go.

"Thanks, Blair," Jim managed as he started to drift back to sleep.

"Anytime, man," Blair, sighed as he pulled the blankets up around his Sentinel.

The End