An image formed in Blair's mind. A desolate temple surrounded by scorched earth and green jungle. Creatures, half-human, half-golden metallic dogs guarded it. Their eye's glowing red as they further wielded dull metallic staff weapons that emitted pulsing fire, continuing their destruction on the lush green vegetation.

The image flowed forward. Dark skinned men were fighting the half-metallic creatures, and dying. Now dark skinned women and naked children were being tied into lines by the creatures and marched into the jungle. Blair's mind, spirit, soul? Followed their path, watching as children fell and were pulled roughly to their feet. Listening as the women's pleas were ignored. And how attempts at escape were dealt with harshly with weapons that didn't even leave ash to be spread to the winds.

The journey brought them back to the temple, now barely recognizable. Half an acre all around the sacred site was barren burnt earth. Blair felt the anger and fear of the prisoners and was with them as they were marched into the temple. Inside too was changed. The pools Blair had envisioned so many times in his dreams were empty. A stone bowl probably the same Alex had used to mix her 'potion' in lay broken on the floor. Burning torches filled brackets that did not belong in this quiet place and gold and red silks obscured the writings Blair knew were on the walls.

More metallic creatures joined the procession, marching the prisoners into the depths of the temple. Symbols on a complex device were pressed in an order.

A light flared and the image faded.

Blair awoke with a start and stared at the dim clutter that surrounded his bed. It was just a dream. Images of the slave chains crossed his mind and he shuddered. Too much sci fi T.V. and way too much dwelling on the past, which was strange now that he thought about it cause he hadn't been thinking of the temple of Sentinels, he hadn't thought of it in month's. He'd been too focused on the mysteries in the day-to-day business of becoming a cop to wonder about temples in distant jungles and besides thinking of the past hurt. Not that the present was much better.

Blair sat up and felt the aches of yesterday's track work make themselves known. Two more weeks and he could say goodbye to it all. Well four if you counted the two weeks of testing, but Blair was trying not to look that far ahead. Two more weeks until basic training was complete.
Blair rubbed his shins gingerly and looked at the clock. 6.36am. Outside he could hear Jim rummaging around doing who knows what. Probably couldn't sleep. Blair knew he was still being harassed by people who didn't believe the painful conference he'd held, but as Jim wasn't talking and Blair wasn't at the station there wasn't much he could do, which might explain why he was dreaming of oppression and violence. The frustration and containment he felt in reality leaking into his dreams. Which didn't make him feel any better but who the hell was he to argue with his conscious?

Blair gave up reasoning and staggered his way into his robe and out of his room, he'd feel better with coffee and a warm shower.

The loft was dim, what little light there was pooling itself around the balcony doors. Jim was a shadow leaning against the kitchen cupboard,

"Couldn't sleep?" Jim asked. Blair shook his head and peered into the dark kitchen trying to determine whether the coffee pot was empty and whether it was worth taking the few extra steps closer to find out for sure. In the background the soft murmur of the morning news muddled with his thinking.
Jim walked forward no longer a shadow and Blair bemusedly felt himself steered towards the bathroom.

"Go shower." Jim commanded and Blair did.

There was coffee waiting when Blair left the bathroom and Blair poured himself a cup feeling more human as the liquid hit his system.

"You up for a ride?" Jim asked from behind him, Blair jumped coffee spilling over his hand and onto the bench. Putting the cup down he shook out his hand and grabbed a cloth, "Hey, a little warning!"

"I'll wear a bell," Jim said and grabbed a second cloth to help clean up the mess, "So are you?"

"I'd appreciate it," Blair bit back leaning against the counter to calm himself down, the second part of the question sank in. "So am I what?"

Jim rolled his eyes "Brown and Rafe are working a case down at the docks, but the numbers aren't adding up. Simon asked me to go down and have a quick look around, so are you up to coming along."

"What about the academy?" Blair asked,

Jim poured himself a cup, "we'll be back before 8:30, I'll drop you off, I'll even buy you breakfast."

Blair grinned "Sure, as long as it's not Wonderburger man."

-----------------------O-----------------------

It was dirty and loud down at the Cascade Turner docks, with men yelling abuse and commands and the stiff grinding and clacking of old machinery and over it all; the thick scent of oil, salt, fish and filth. Blair eyed the old machines warily and tried to breathe shallowly. Jim had told him more of the case on the drive down, how it seemed Ross Werily a new mover and shaker in the criminal world had come into a steady flow of cash, weapons and drugs and how Rafe and Brown suspected it was connected to an old time crook Simon Stoke who'd been seen hanging around the docks. Officially Jim was here on the behalf of his superior to use his superior skills as a detective to determine if the docks were just a smoke screen or if they were the base of operations for the smuggling ring. Unofficially Jim was there to determine well, the same thing only the methods changed.

"So Simon wants you to sniff out the drugs, huh?" Blair asked

Jim gave him a withering look "Just keep an eye out for anyone acting out of character"

"What character man?" Blair grumbled, nether-the-less he looked closer at the workers moving between the crates and ships trying to determine if standing on a crate and glaring at everyone counted as suspicious behavior, "They're big, tough and hairy"

"At least you've got the hairy" Jim cut in sardonically, giving Blair a small side long glance.

"Funny man, funny" Blair said, now looking at four shift workers stacking tuna onto large orange tarps, God there had to be at least a hundred there already and they were still going. Beside him Jim stiffened, stilling and Blair stopped automatically and looked at him, looking for what caught his attention, but Jim's face was blank his mind focused elsewhere,

"Jim?" Blair whispered, but Jim waved his hand at him angrily, shushing him and Blair stayed quiet. Long minutes passed and Blair tried not to fidget, shoving his cold hands in his pockets and watching the worker's closer to the wharf and hoping like hell the idiots manning the cranes didn't drop any crates God it was history repeating all over again. Finally Jim moved, turning and walking quickly back the way they came. Blair hurried after him, through the stacks and small mini markets that seemed to pop up in the quieter corners

"What'd you hear?" he asked, Jim slowed allowing Blair to come abreast with him,

"We need to head back to the station, I can drop you off on the way." Jim said.

"Jim man, seriously what did you hear?" Blair asked again, putting his hand on Jim's arm to gain his attention. Jim shook his head and Blair removed his arm feeling unaccountably rebuffed.

They hit the sidewalk the noise and bustle shifting to the crowded street noise of Cascade and scents of tar and pollution mixed with the fading wharf scents. Blair saw the truck and gratefully made his way to the passenger side wanting to be away from it all, inside Blair put his belt on and studiously avoided Jim's gaze as Jim did the same and started the truck. It wasn't until they'd pulled away and were heading east towards the station that Jim broke the silence

"There's a meet being organized for the 3rd at the Richard Hotel. Stoke's isn't our man, but the docks are being used to smuggle guns; the drugs are apparently from a local supplier. The diner on Sampson okay with you?"

Blair looked over at Jim, "Thanks man," he said.