Upon entering the city of Chicago, Blair Sandburg's heart fell. It hadn't occurred to him that he knew no-one in the city and that now that he was here, he realised that Chicago was a very big city. He wasn't a sentinel; he couldn't just extend his senses and look for a familiar heartbeat, a familiar smell or another part of a broken badge that was miles away. Sighing, he drove to the downtown area of the big city and parked the truck. He hadn't slept for over 24 hours but that wasn't important anymore. It was the beginning of a new day and Blair wasn't going to waste it by sleeping.

Pulling out Jim's picture, he wondered where he should start his search for his friend. Stopping at every shop, pub, restaurant, café and takeaway seemed like too big a job for one man and it would have taken forever. Blair saw flash of fur run past him and immediately began to run after it, after all, it had led him this far. After what seemed like miles, the wolf stopped in front of an establishment called 'Tony's Pizza' and Blair looked down at it.

"I hope your right, man." He said, before looking once more at the picture of Jim in his hand. Blair stopped the first man he saw coming out of the building and asked him if he had seen Jim. The dark-haired man, who continued heading out of the door, carrying several boxes of pizza, shrugged and shook his head at Blair. He apologised and suggested that Blair ask Tony because Tony was in the shop more of the time and maybe he'd seen Blair's friend.

The flicker of recognition that crossed Tony's face made hope flare through Blair's body. Hostile and suspicious eyes locked onto his moments later and the older man asked him, "What do you want with James?" In his excitement that he had finally had some kind of luck, Blair forgot that hostility and suspicion weren't good.

"You know him?"

"James Ellison is a good friend of mine," the other man growled, "and if you don't tell me what you want with him I'll call another good friend of mine, who works for the Police."

"Jim's my friend, he's my partner." Blair was starting to realise that this situation had the potential to be really good or really bad.

"Your partner? You're a cop?" Blair shook his head quickly, causing Tony to raise an eyebrow.

"No I'm a consultant to the Police," Blair quickly showed his ID.

"Okay, so why are you looking for James? He in some kind of trouble?" Blair nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly.

"I think he's been kidnapped. I found this next to a wall in the alley where he was last seen and he left a note on the wall in a restroom just outside of Illinois saying 'Chicago'." Blair showed the piece of metal to Tony, he felt sure he could trust this man but he didn't know why. Maybe it was because he had known Jim's name and had seemed very protective of him?

Tony cursed when he saw the piece of metal and muttered, "They're back." Tony turned away from Blair and pulled out his cell phone. "Ray, it's Tony," he spoke urgently into the phone. "I need your help. You better bring the Mountie too." Tony turned to look at Blair, his expression showing Blair everything he really didn't want to hear. Jim was in trouble, big time.

"I've called my friend from the Police. He's a good man and we're going to need his help if we want to find Jim alive."

"We? You're going to help me?" Tony looked at Blair with the kind of pity that is usually reserved for idiots and shook his head.

"James is my friend," he said slowly, "you think I'm just going to ignore that he's in trouble?" Blair shook his head and noticed the chair in the corner of the room. He slumped tiredly into it, finally someone believed him and he was no longer alone.

He must have drifted to sleep for a moment because when he opened his eyes there were two men talking to Tony. Both were about the same height, although the skinnier one was maybe slightly taller, it was hard to tell as he was slouched and his companion was stood ramrod straight. The guy was talking animatedly, his blonde spiky hair matching his wild mannerisms. There was something about him that made Blair feel that this man could be a cop or a bad guy with equal ease. His companion was a different matter. The bright red tunic and the odd shaped pants told Blair that he was a member of the RCMP. His posture screamed 'COP!!' and Blair would be willing to bet that the man stood this straight regardless of whether he was wearing the uniform or not.

More times than Jim cared to count his captors had switched from attacking his eyes and ears with lights and whistles to attacking his nose and mouth with air so foul bacteria would avoid it. He had almost reached the point where he just wanted to hold his breath until he passed out, never to wake again.

A black panther lay next to his curled up form, seen only by Jim. It made him think of Sandburg and how the kid would have him doing exercises where he would concentrate one sense to block out another. Only he couldn't do that here. All of his senses were being attacked, sight, sound, smell and taste by the continuous bombardment of stimuli and touch from the earlier beating. His body kept flinching at the attacks on his other senses, causing the rapidly swelling bruises to protest loudly.

The panther pawed at his upper arm and his mind transported him back in time. He was standing in a living room; it was the living room of the house where he had been protecting that singer. What was her name again? Sandburg would know, just like he knew how to deal with Jim's senses. He could hear Blair talking to him, his voice was calming, comforting. He was telling Jim to imagine a dial and use it to dial down his sense of touch. It had worked. Jim remembered that it had worked really well. If one dial worked on one sense, maybe he could imagine something with 5 dials and control all of his senses?

The police scanner from his truck came to mind and he smiled inside, something familiar was just what he needed. All of the dials except one were flitting about around their maximum setting, the one that wasn't was set at half. He guessed that that one was touch and dialled it down further to just under ¼. The other dials he moved to their lowest setting, effectively switching his senses off, after he calling out "Hey dickheads! Did I come at a bad time?" in his best John McClane impersonation.

Other than the press of the ground against his side, Jim felt nothing. He was no longer aware of anything else in the world. All he had was the solidity of the ground, he was keeping a little of his sense of touch only so he would know if he was moved, and his mind, his memories. The blue haze of the Sentinel spirit plane filled his mind. He made his way through the odd-coloured jungle to a familiar temple, where he knew it was safe for him to wait.

Blair listened silently as the spiky-haired detective, Ray Vecchio, told him about a Canadian militia group that had recently resurfaced in Chicago. Tony informed them that the militia were a rogue unit which had been involved in a joint covert ops mission between the US and Canada over ten years ago. The mission had gone wrong and the Canadian Unit had disappeared, only to reappear a week later to try and sabotage Jim, Tony and two other men's later attempts to rescue the hostages and get back to friendly territory safely. The two other men had been killed but somehow Jim and Tony had managed to complete their mission. The Canadians had sworn that they would be back for Tony and Jim and that they had better watch their backs.

The detective snorted and turned to the Mountie, "you have mercenaries in Canada? What do they do? Chase shopping carts with wonky wheels?" Blair felt his temper flare, he didn't like this detective's sense of humour. Canadian mercenaries had kidnapped his friend and all this detective could do was make jokes. Years as the son of Naomi, however, had taught him to control his temper, and not to lash out at people whose help he might need.

He didn't understand how Tony could just sit there like that and take it. Something must have given a clue to the Mountie though because he whispered something to the detective, whose eyes flicked over to Blair before he nodded briefly at his partner.

A wet muzzle pressed into his hand and, for a moment, Blair was confused. His animal spirit was normally greyer, wasn't he? Absently he ran his fingers through the wolf's fur, as it laid its head on his thigh and looked up at him with soulful eyes.

The jungle looked beautiful in this shade of blue. Jim had never noticed before because he was usually too focussed on what his spirit guide was trying to tell him. It really was though, the way the water had the clear blue colouring of a postcard from paradise and the air had fresh morning haze, it all was so pretty, so mesmerising. Striding out of the temple where he had spent the night, Jim took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the clean air. A force within him was compelling him to head east.

Walking was easy on the ready-made trail but soon Jim found himself in a place that filled so many of his nightmares. There were no children in sight, just a burnt down building. Scrambling over the rubble, he headed for where he knew his friend should be.

"Mancorak!" The sound escaped his lips with a whimper. Digging furiously in the blackened ashes, Jim began to shake. His fingers were so burnt that there was no skin left on the tips of them. Finally a body began to appear and Jim's digging intensified with a renewed fury. His heart was pounding in his chest and his breath kept catching in his throat, choking him. Gently he brushed the remaining ashes off his friend's face, murmuring "I'm sorry, Mancorak." as he did so.

As the face came into view Jim couldn't bite back the roar of pain that filled his lungs and then the air. The young face before him was contorted in an expression of pure agony. Long, curly brown hair was blackened and burnt. Dead, blue eyes stared out, seeing through a cloud of fear for ever more. Jim clutched his friend's body to his chest, pressing his cheek against his friend's head. Tears streamed down his face as he rocked backwards and forwards, sobbing out his friend's name in between choking breaths. "Blair," he cried over and over again.

Then suddenly the world was spinning and the blue glow of the jungle was gone. All there was, was darkness. He was aware only of a hard, cold surface pressed up against his side and cold air blowing on the wet streaks on his face.