Some formatting adjustments and one laptop crash later, here we go with Chapter Two! ; )

****

Blair arrived at the station an hour later, shoulder-length hair loose, and wearing a jacket over a black shirt tucked into his blue jeans. The young man was greeted by the gang with the usual warmth and enthusiasm, as he made his way over to Jim's desk. First Rafe and Joel came up to him, and then Henri wrapped up his phone conversation and walked the rest of the way with Blair to Jim's desk.

"Hairboy! Man, oh thank God you're back!" Brown smiled broadly and slapped Blair lightly on his back. "What on earth did you do to get Jim to snap him out of that funk he's been in?"

Blair shrugged vaguely and murmured a low key, "Nothing."

Henri kept smiling, but his eyes darkened slightly when he got a good look at Blair. Though Sandburg greeted everyone warmly, he looked wan and tired. Even the jacket he wore did not entirely disguise the amount of weight he had lost; and his weariness showed in his face and his eyes...well, his eyes normally sparkling with good humor, were subdued, Henri thought.

Jim was at his desk, watching Blair walk through the gauntlet of well-wishers. He was smiling at his partner, though he inwardly frowned at the way Sandburg looked. 'We're gonna have a talk real soon, Chief.' Nothing else existed for Jim at that moment, just the sight of his best friend and partner walking towards him. The shape and colors seemed to blur for a moment, until suddenly, Blair was there standing right in front of him.

"Hey, Jim." Blair said softly in greeting. He looked down at his partner and felt a measure of relief sweep through him at the sight of Jim sitting there, open, smiling, obviously glad to see him.

"Hey yourself, Chief." Jim cleared his throat and said, "Thanks so much for coming down. I really want to make things right again, starting here and now." Those words covered everything and nothing at the same time but, nonetheless, a ghost of a smile appeared on Blair's face. Sandburg sat down in the chair next to Jim, and gestured at the mountain of paper work threatening to over run Ellison's desk.

"Yeah, well how 'bout we start right in with that pile of reports taking over your desk? I think you need some major help here." Blair smirked good-naturedly.

Blair and Jim worked on the stack of reports for well over two hours before Jim called a break, citing a sudden urge to consume something with lard and icing from the vending machine. Immediately, the others chimed in and rose to head down to the snack room with Jim. Blair shooed them all off and kept on working. He was alone in the bullpen, as Simon was still in the same meeting he had been attending when Blair first arrived at the station. The young man was so intent on his task that he didn't at first notice that someone had come into the bullpen and was now standing in front of the desk, calling his name. His brain finally registered the sound, and he looked up with wide blue eyes to find an extremely athletic, tall, blond haired man in his late twenties before him.

"Blair Sandburg? Are you Blair Sandburg?" the casually dressed man asked.

"I'm Blair Sandburg, how can I--" Blair never got the words out. All he saw was a meaty fist coming towards him a mere nanosecond before it brutally connected with his face. The force of the punch made Blair fly backwards and topple out of his chair. His right eye exploded with bright lights and heated pain.

He was stunned. The young police observer only had a moment to collect his wits when he felt himself being bodily heaved off the floor by his shirt. "Who are you?" Blair gasped out as he struggled to get away from his assailant.

"I'm Jason Sewell, Janet Myers fiancé, you hippie son of a bitch!" the man screamed at Blair as he smacked him across the face again. The world stopped for Blair. The hollow, sick feeling in his stomach began to fill up and spill over with the potency of his guilt and grief. He put his hands down and stood stock-still. Jason continued to scream at Blair, "You killed her, you killed Janet!" Each accusation was punctuated by a fist that Blair made no move to deflect. "Janet left that old life behind, and you dragged her back and talked her into sticking her nose where it didn't belong! She's dead! She's dead because of you! Fight me damn it!" Jason howled in frustration.

****

Jim and the other detectives in the break room were joking, laughing, and enjoying their snacks. Suddenly, Jim's eyes narrowed, and with a snarl of rage, he ran out, back towards the bullpen. In an instant Rafe, Henri and Joel exchanged, 'What the hell looks?' dropped everything, and ran behind Jim.

They were astounded at the scene in the bullpen. Blair looked like a rag doll being held up and punched by a man who was screaming furiously. They saw the man repeatedly hit the young man, while Blair made no effort to defend himself. With a snarl of rage, Jim seized the man and drew down on him, intent on stopping the man who had dared attack and hurt his partner. Jim's blue eyes were ice-cold, predatory and his companions mentally thanked God that Jim was on their side. Sensing the danger, Rafe and Henri grabbed the screaming man by the arms, while Joel urged Jim to put his weapon away. Blair sagged bonelessly to the floor as his assailant was forced to let go the moment Jim jumped the screaming man from behind. The man was shaking with rage and grief, though he was no longer struggling with the tight grip that the MC detectives had on his arms.

"Why? Why d'you do it?" Jason continued his litany of grief, as he was lead out of the bullpen and down to a holding cell in handcuffs.

Jim looked down at Blair's battered face. His right eye was swollen shut and turning a spectacular shade of purple and black. Blood dripped from a cut above his eye and his upper lip was split and bleeding.

"We need a medic over here, NOW!" Jim yelled as he bent over Blair who was staring at Jim with his good eye and grimacing in pain.

"You're gonna be okay, Blair; I'll get Joel to bring my car around so we can leave for the Emergency Room after the medic patches those cuts," Jim said in a soothing tone.

Hearing that, Blair sat up a little straighter and stated firmly, "I'm okay, Jim. I don't need to go the hospital, just let the medic here patch me up, okay?" he grunted groggily.

"Uh uh, no way, buddy. You could have a concussion and those cuts may need stitches," Jim replied, while his hands ghosted over his partner's body, checking and rechecking for hidden injuries.

Sandburg fought to maintain the upper hand in the negotiations concerning his future whereabouts by quickly making a counter offer, "Let's just wait and see what the medic says, all right?" Blair really didn't want to go to the hospital and spend countless, uncomfortable hours in the ER. What he wanted was to go home and have a nice quiet breakdown all by himself.

Jim merely pursed his lips and stood out of the way when the medic arrived to treat Blair. The man swiftly attended his patient and, after awhile, he stood up seemingly satisfied with the patch-up job on Blair's face and asking him twenty questions. He had given Blair a cold ice-pack to apply to his right eye, and he now was preparing to return to his station, having given up advising the injured man to go the ER. Having seen the futility of his request, he instead urged Blair to rest and take it easy at home for a while.

Blair eschewed Jim's helping hand and instead rose to his feet slowly and shakily on his own. He felt numb and strangely discombobulated but he knew what he had to do with a driving certainty. With Jason's cruel words echoing in his ears, Blair began to make his way out of the bullpen on unsteady but determined feet. Rafe, Joel and Henri all made motions forward as if to halt Blair's progress, but Sandburg held up both hands, clearly communicating for them to back off. Jim started after his partner, still stunned by the unexpected and sudden violence that had descended on Blair in his absence.

With a backwards glance over his shoulder, Jim firmly told his friends that he'd handle Sandburg. "Where are you going, Chief?"

"To see about getting Jason released," came the curt reply.

"WHAT?" Jim's response was loud and explosive. "Look Chief, I don't know what's going on here, but you aren't thinking clearly." They were now in the elevator headed towards the lower floors of the police station where bookings took place. Blair leaned wearily against the car wall before pushing his wild curls out of his face to look over at the big detective.

"I know what I'm doing, Jim," he said wearily, "I'm not pressing charges, and I want him released. And Jim," Blair paused to give Jim his most penetrating stare, "if you really meant what you said earlier about wanting to get things back on track with me, then do me a favor and just support me a little this once, or was that just a load of BS you were shoveling out?"

Jim's lips thinned and the corners of his mouth turned down. He didn't need his sentinel abilities to feel for himself how the space in the elevator had grown decisively smaller and chillier. 'Support him just this once?' Jim wondered about that. Something was happening here, and Jim had caught a glimpse of something in Sandburg's eyes - something darkly seething. Jim made his decision: he would acquiesce to his Guide's demand and not do or say anything to hamper him while he was on his mission of mercy, however ridiculous he felt it was.

The elevator stopped on the first floor, and Jim and Blair walked out.

"It wasn't BS, Chief." Jim's voice was painfully earnest, and he was completely ignoring the curious stares he and his partner where receiving from the uniformed cops, assorted suspects, cuffed perpetrators and citizens.

Blair looked evenly at Jim before giving a short, "Okay then." He motioned for Jim to stay put and wait for him. "I'm gonna take care of this, and then we can get out of here." Jim watched his partner walk off and, as he did so, the Sentinel reflected on Sandburg's elevated heart rate and the barely detectible quaver in his voice. The Sentinel crossed his arms and prepared to wait.

*****

Thirty minutes later, Jim's battered and tired Guide walked up to him and signaled that his mission was concluded. They departed the first floor together and rode the elevator back upstairs in silence.

Now that the crisis was over and Jim knew that Blair was going to be alright, he turned his attention to something that had bothered him almost as much as seeing the sight of Jason beating Blair: the sight of Sandburg refusing to defend himself. He was concerned, but he also he felt the stirrings of annoyance at Blair, because he had allowed the man to continue to punch him without fighting back. The Sentinel felt conflicted. He wanted to put his arm around his injured Guide, but he also was also hard-pressed to resist the urge to shake him and demand a swift explanation for his behavior.

"We have to talk, Chief. Now!" Jim grabbed Blair by the arm and practically dragged him around the corner and into an empty conference room. Blair made no outward protest as he went with Jim, still holding the bag of ice over his swollen, blackened right eye.

"For God's sake, Blair, why didn't you at least try and defend yourself?" Jim practically hissed. "Damn it, did you enjoy being his punching bag?"

'Not like you haven't used me as your emotional punching bag here, Jim.' Blair was a hair's breath away from muttering aloud his thought, but like he had done so many other times that week, he tightened his precarious, desperate hold on the lid keeping his swirling dark emotions contained.

There was strained quiet for a moment before Blair looked up at Jim and gave voice to what he thought was the only reasonable response: the truth. "Because he's not in his right mind. He's grieving the loss of somebody who was supposed to be spending the rest of her life with him. Someone he loved dearly. Somebody who was brutally murdered without any kind of warning. You know all about that last part don't you Jim? How it makes you kind of crazy?" Blair asked softly.

Jim's heart sank to his toes. "Yeah, I guess I do," he replied in a low voice. A feeling of shame washed over him as he recalled every unkind thing he had said to Sandburg during the last two weeks, every thoughtless act he had done to Blair, all in the name of grieving Incacha's death.

"Look, Jim, I'm tired. I know I don't look good, and I sure as hell don't feel good right now. I'm gonna head home. I'll see you later."

"Why don't I give you a ride home, Chief?" Jim asked, concerned about how well Blair could really see.

"I'll be fine, Jim. Besides, I need my car in the morning."

"We can come by the station early tomorrow, and you can pick it up and be on your way."

Blair's face was a closed book, his expression remote. Finally, he said, "Okay, let's get going then." He didn't stand around waiting for any further comments from Jim. Ellison hastily scribbled a message for Simon, and then he and Blair went down to the garage and to the truck. After dropping Blair off at the loft, Jim returned to the station.

Late that afternoon, when Blair was napping on the sofa, he had a nightmare wherein he dreamed of fists like hammers knocking him down again and again, while he cried out in pain and the corpse of Janet looked on approvingly.

****

It was much later in the evening when the detective finally returned to the loft, bone-weary from the events of the day. His throbbing headache made him loath to turn on the lights in the darkened home. The darkness and the stillness gave the illusion that the loft was unoccupied, but the Sentinel knew that his Guide was home. He could hear Blair's heart beating; it's soothing rhythm, like a beacon, guided Jim to the doorway of his friend's room. Sandburg lay in bed, asleep on his stomach, one arm flung above his head, the other hanging off the side. The young man was softly snoring. Clearly, Blair was exhausted and in no shape to have a long, serious discussion. Jim watched him for a moment longer and then turned, and silently headed up the stairs to his own bed.

The next morning, Jim and Blair got up at the same time and shuffled through their respective morning routines. They came together again at the breakfast table; Blair was down at one end of the table taking small sips from his algae shake while Jim, seated at the other end, observed his partner surreptitiously over his own plate of steaming eggs. Sandburg's colorful face looked a lot worse that morning than it had after yesterday's beating. He looked tired, as if he hadn't slept well, and his clothes hung off him in a way Jim wasn't used to seeing. His hair was tied back neatly, which only accentuated the damage to his face.

"How are you feeling, Chief?" Jim finally asked solicitously.

"Fine," came the cryptic reply. In truth he still felt exhausted. It wasn't Jason's violent attack that was so upsetting to Blair; it was the words Jason had shouted at him that had done the most damage. The heartfelt, angry words that the grieving Jason had hurled at him had served to confirm everything that Blair believed about his culpability in Janet's death. Blair knew enough to realize that now more than ever he needed a lifeline. He needed his Sentinel. He needed Jim. He desperately wanted to talk to him, let him know how he was feeling, but there simply wasn't time that morning. Jim would be testifying in court all day, he knew that, and he also knew that he had a marathon study group session to attend.

Jim was feeling frustrated. He knew that he had been too wrapped up in his own inability to deal well with Incacha's death to notice that Blair was not doing very well himself. Clearly, Sandburg had been, and probably still was, depressed. There was a niggling suspicion growing in the back of Jim's mind that Blair's decision to not defend himself against Jason's attack did not stem from some misguided, compassionate, empathetic impulse, but rather a belief the he deserved to be beaten. Ellison knew he had not yet even begun to clear the air with Blair, but he knew he couldn't do it right then. Right now he needed to drop Blair off at the station, so his partner could pick up his car before he himself drove over to the courthouse.

"You ready to go, Chief?"

"Yeah, I'm ready, Jim. Uh, thanks for the ride man." Blair's smile of gratitude was genuine and, small as it was, it warmed Jim's heart.

The two men arrived at the station in short order, and Jim quickly drove up next to Blair's blue Corvair. Blair grabbed his backpack and, after giving a short wave to Jim, got in his car and attempted to start it. But his car, ever temperamental, had other ideas that morning and refused to start. "Aw c'mon!" Blair yelled in frustration, as he tried again and again to start his car without success.

Jim hadn't drove off the moment Blair exited his car. Fortunately, he had waited and, when it became apparent that Sandburg wasn't going to be able to get his ride started, he rolled down the window and called for Blair to get back in his truck so that he could drop him off at the University.

"I'm really sor -."

"Don't worry about it, Chief; I have plenty of time to drop you off.'' Jim quickly cut Sandburg off from his attempted apology. He meant it. Jim knew how stressful it was on his roommate whenever he had unexpected car repair bills to deal with, considering his limited budget. Besides, Ellison was glad of one more immediate, tangible way he could do something to let Blair know he cared.

Jim drove Blair to the Rainer campus and let him off in front of Hargrove Hall, and the two men said good -bye for the second time that morning. Before he took off, Blair leaned through the window of the passenger's side to solidify the plans for the rest of the day.

"Uh, can you also give me a ride home?" Blair asked.

"What time, Chief?"

"It's gonna be late, Jim."

"What time, Sandburg?" Jim asked patiently.

"Around eight o'clock?"

"Yeah, that'll work. I'll see you at eight."

Blair really didn't think that after a tough day in court Jim would want to head back out to Rainer to pick him up, so he was mildly surprised and pleased when Jim readily agreed. Jim gave the young man a friendly nod and drove off. This time it was Blair who stayed watching as the car moved out of sight.

TBC