It had happened so fast. Blair hadn't been expecting that. One second, the tire went flat, right on cue, the next second, a powerful arm snaked around his waist and another pressed a sweet-smelling cloth against his face. He'd managed, or thought he had, to yell for help once before the warm drowsiness had overtaken him. Although he didn't think he'd ever completely lost consciousness, he'd had trouble keeping his eyes open. He remembered feeling himself being slung over the killer's shoulder and carried somewhere.

"This is when Jim and the guys come to the rescue," he thought, but it seemed to be taking a long time. Too long. Where were they? "You won't be more than 50 yards from help at any time." That's what they'd said. So where in the hell were they? The killer was a big man, and Blair hadn't even been able to put up a good struggle. Now he heard a scraping noise and opened his eyes just in time to see the gaping hole below him before he was dropped down into it. Even through the chloroform, he felt the pain of the landing. His eyes drifted shut again, and he heard the manhole cover being pulled back and sound of the man's boots on the rungs of the ladder. He struggled to open his eyes. If he was going to be killed, he wanted to see the man's face. His body wouldn't cooperate and he felt the man messing with his ear piece just as Jim's voice came through. "Hold on, Blair. We're coming." His wire was ripped from his ear, then he was lifted again and slung over the man's back. There were noises in the distance, shouts. They were looking for him. Everything would be fine. He'd put on enough cologne to choke a horse. Even someone with no enhanced senses should be able to follow his trail.

His abductor spoke for the first time, letting loose a string of expletives under his breath. Suddenly, the world tilted and Blair was face down in thick water. A hand on the back of his head pushed his face roughly down into the silt and filth at the bottom of the pool and then was gone. Oh, God, he couldn't move, he couldn't lift his head. He felt water enter his nose and mouth, but he couldn't even muster the strength to hold his breath. "I didn't want to do this. Why did I do this? Jim said I shouldn't, now I'm drowning to death in a storm drain." Instinctively, his body tried to draw in air, and only succeeded in pulling more filthy water into his lungs. "Jim, please, help me." He struggled one last time to lift his head before the world went dark.

A familiar voice interrupted the blackness, and he felt his body convulse and shudder. Slowly he swam to the surface.

"Wake up Blair. You're OK."

A hand on his face and a familiar voice drew him awake. Mustering all of his energy, he lifted his eyelids. Jim's was looming over him, smiling reassuringly. "Jim." Did he say that out loud? Relief washed over him, along with the need to close his eyes again. His stomach was doing somersaults, and he didn't want to be awake right now.

"Take it easy, Chief. Get some rest."

"OK, Jim." He knew Jim hadn't heard him, but it was OK. He was safe now. Everything was OK. He let himself drift away.

Things were blurry after that. Two officers were helping him walk. He was pretty sure one was McKetrick. One of them was saying something to him, and his hands were placed on a ladder. Was he supposed to climb? He tried to lift his leg onto the bottom rung, but his knees felt like jello. He heard a lot of yelling, and realized he was no longer on the ladder, but sitting next to it, staring at the dirt floor. He wished he could find the energy to lift his head. This whole situation was getting old really fast. Not to mention the fact that he was starting to feel a little queasy and he had a nasty, gritty, taste in his mouth. He was pulled to his feet again, and someone was lifting him, holding his arms up above his head, then there were hands on his wrists and he was weightless. As he was pulled up into the chill night air, the nausea hit him full force, and the last thing he remembered before he blacked out again was throwing up on Captain Banks.

The next time he woke up he felt cold. The wind was blowing, and he was wet. Someone had stuffed something soft under his head and had placed a large Cascade PD windbreaker over him. There was activity everywhere. Red and white lights were flashing, lighting up the trees. The park. Blair felt the sudden urge to vomit and struggled to turn over. Two massive hands helped him, holding his soaking hair back until he was done.

"Thanks, Joel." He muttered weakly. Joel put his hands under Blair's arms and gently pulled him a short distance from the mess he'd just made.

"Ambulance is on the way, kid. You'll be fine."

"I feel like shit. Where's Jim?"

"It's no wonder. He's gone after the sonofabitch."

Blair struggled to sit, but the world started tilting again. "Alone?"

Joel lowered him gently to the ground again. "No, not alone. Of course not. He's got Brown with him, and a couple of the uniforms just went down after them. Take it easy."

Simon was standing in the midst of a small group of men, barking out orders. He saw Blair and hastened over. "Did you get a look at him?"

"I'm fine Simon. Thanks for the concern." Except he wasn't fine. Bile rose in his throat, and he leaned on his side and closed his eyes, willing the nausea to pass. It did, but instead of feeling better he was wracked with violent coughs. He refused to think about the things that had been living in the water he'd inhaled. When he caught his breath again, he noticed that his whole body was trembling with the cold. He felt very tired again. "No Sir, I didn't. He came up behind me. All I know is that he was a big guy. Strong." He rolled onto his back again trying to speak through chattering teeth. "I'm sorry. I couldn't open my eyes."

"It's not your fault, Blair."

"He's going into shock, Captain." Joel snuggled the jacket around Blair's shoulders, trying to give him more warmth.

"No, I'm just cold, man." Another gust of wind blew over him. His nose was starting to feel numb. "Where were you? I thought you were supposed to be close?" Blair tried to sound angry.

"We screwed up, man. I'm sorry. We thought we had all the exits covered." Joel patted him on the shoulder.

Simon had disappeared, and Blair heard him yelling at someone, wanting to know where in the hell the ambulance was. "Have you ever been dropped down a manhole?"

"Can't say that I have."

"It hurts."

A pained and guilty expression crossed the big captain's face, and he squeezed Blair's shoulder. "Yeah, I bet it does. I really am sorry."

"I forgive you." Blair smiled. He was about to make a smart ass comment when the nausea hit him full force again, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach. He had nothing left to bring up, and the dry heaves were making his throat raw. "You know, a stomach pump sounds really attractive right now."

"Hold on kid. I see the ambulance."

Blair didn't roll onto his back this time. He was finding some relief curled up on his side, and didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he woke up in the ambulance. An IV had been attached to his hand and he felt noticeably warmer. Joel was just shutting the doors. "Hey, Joel!"

"Yeah?"

"Have you heard from Jim?"

"Yeah, man. He's on his way back. He's fine. Just relax and enjoy the ride."

"Yeah, right."

Joel smiled at him and started to shut the doors again. They immediately flew open and Jim hopped in.

Detective Brown stuck his head in the door. "Hey, Hairboy. How you doin'?"

"I'll probably live."

"Sorry we blew it. Don't worry, we'll get him." Blair heard Simon yelling from somewhere outside, and Brown yanked his head out of the door like he'd been stung by a bee.

The medic asked impThe medic asked impatiently. "Can we go?"

"Yep." As the ambulance slowly pulled out, Jim smiled. "Must not be fatal, eh Chief?"

Blair looked at him quizzically.

"No sirens." Jim had rested his hand on Blair's upper arm and had squeezed it reassuringly. If Blair's aroma bothered him, he was doing an excellent job of hiding it. Something the medic wasn't able to do.

"So you didn't catch him?" Nothing was ever that simple.

"No. Sorry."

"That makes it official."

"What?"

"Everyone in the department has apologized to me now. Except for Simon, but he was too busy busting balls."

"They should have. We screwed up. We didn't secure the situation properly. I should never have let you do this." There he went again, Jim was in big brother mode.

"I do have a brain of my own."

"And it's my job to protect it."

"Hey, I thought it was my job to feel guilty." Blair had a fuzzy memory that was trying to get out. It seemed important. Something about the killer standing over him... "Oh, God. It is my fault that you lost him."

"What are you talking about?"

"He took my wire. He probably heard every word you said when you were chasing him."

"Take it easy. You could only hear me on that thing, and I wasn't doing a lot of talking." Jim began to feel a little queasy himself as he remembered what he had said over the radio. If the killer had been listening, he now knew the name of his victim.