Please READ-Author's Note: The Sentinel end of this story is very smarmy. That's a term that means two same-sex individuals (mostly men) who love (non-sexual) each other so much that they are willing to die for the other. It is very emotional and 'physically' (not sex) orientated. Jim is a Sentinel, he's also grown up with a lack of emotional support from his family—so his emotions are very 'touch' oriented. For example, if he's mad, he'll grab your shirt and throw you against a wall. Jim and Blair are NOT gay. They do not have a sexual relationship. But they do love each other—deeper than brotherly love. If this bothers you, please don't read it.

As for Angel/Cordy, everyone knows how I feel about them. I think that they are meant to be together. Me—I personally think that from the moment that they met at the Bronze, it was obvious. She was the only person on the show to ever make him laugh. And that's powerful. I truly think that his relationship with Buffy was boring. He was a rock, no emotions (unless he was dying) around her. He might have loved her, but in that case, it wasn't enough. Cordy, she belongs with him. They complement each other. She gives him humanity and he gives her a devoted friendship. If you knew the Sunnydale Cordy, she never had a true friend. One that KNEW the real her before. And Angel never had anyone who loved him so much that she'd be willing to die for him. Even Buffy never did that. That's why I think they should be together.

Oh, and since Det. Lockley seemed to have disappeared in Season Two of Angel, let's pretend that she still works with the police and that her fellow officers still treat her like she's crazy.

Chapter Three:

I never thought that it be easy. That I knew for a fact. I just didn't realize how hard it really was going to be to get information from people.

The new privacy/protection HIPAA Act prevented anyone at the hospital from divulging any personal information on the young woman that they treated. The only information they gave was that the information was collected a year ago. A YEAR AGO! I was starting to lose hope; what if she'd moved away? What if—God forbid—she was dead? What if my search was a dead-end?

Sitting quietly in the car that Jim had rented us, I couldn't help but fall into a deep well of depression that not even Jim's corny jokes could shake me from. I just stared out the window as the streets, people, and buildings flew by--barely listening to my friend's attempt at levity. I didn't want to smile; not when I felt like this.

"Chief," Jim's voice called out, "Chief, are you listening?"

Turning my head so that I could look at him, "Sorry, Jim. What did you say?"

He gave me a look of understanding, "That's alright, chief. I just said that I've got an idea. I had a friend that used to work at the LAPD. I was just saying that if there might be a police report on the incident. The article mentioned that she was brought to the hospital via ambulance. In Cascade, one of the police officers on patrol will always, at the very least check out the situation before the ambulance arrives, even if it's just to administer first aid and then he or she will decide whether to call it in. Then they are required to report it in the log. I was just thinking that it might be the same in LA. There might be a police report on the incident."

Leaning my head back against the headrest, I asked, "This friend that you know…would he give you the information? Because Jim, I have to say this; I'm starting to think that this was just a waste of time and money."

Closing my eyes, I didn't want to see my friend's face. I know that this 'mission' of ours has become important to him. Maybe more important to him than me.

Me, all I'm losing is my life; slowly, gradually my brain is shutting down with every vision that I have. The doctor's are surprised that I've lived this long. When I was first 'diagnosed' as having a neurodegenerative disorder, the doctors were shocked at how quickly the disease had progressed and they gave me less than six months to live. Hey, I figure I'm up them an extra six months, surprising the hell out of them by living with 'less than 50 of normal brain activity' for this long.

But Jim—He's not just losing his best friend, he's losing his guide. And I'm more afraid for him than of myself dying. I'm afraid that one day; he'll take a gun to his brain and follow me to the next world; whether it is heaven or hell. I'm afraid that he'll lose control over his senses, even though I trained his captain, Simon Banks in how to guide him. I'm afraid that he'll go back to where I found him; on the edge of insanity; and I'm afraid he'll fall over that edge.

I feel the car slow down and stop. I don't bother to open my eyes. I can hear Jim shut the car off, and then turn in the seat to most likely face me. "Blair," he never calls me by my name, "Blair? What's going on?"

I just breathe because right now, that's all I can do. I feel his hand on my knee, his thumb rubbing little circles on it in comfort. "Chief, look at me!"

His voice was harsh, not comforting as it has been lately. That's why my eyes fly open of their own accord. I open my eyes as he commands, but I still won't look him in the eye. I want to stay in control.

He grabs my chin in his hand, gently but forcibly catching my gaze. He won't let me look down, pressing his thumb against my cheek when I try. "I've never seen you like this, Blair. You can't give up."

My chin quivers in his hand, I can feel it. Swallowing hard, I blurt it all out, "Yes, I can. Jim, I think Incacha made a mistake. Maybe I'm not meant to be your guide. I mean, he had the visions all his life from what you've told me and he NEVER suffered like I did. What if—Jim, what if I'm just deluding myself into thinking that I'm supposed to help you? What if I took something that was meant to be with your real guide? I don't think that I'm supposed to have these visions…" I trail off, watching as Jim's face falls stricken at my words. It's only for a second, as the Rangers trained him, his face becomes unreadable. I hate that about him. Everyone knows exactly how I feel—I'm an open book, while he becomes stone cold and undistinguishable.

His hand moves to my throat, tightening. No one was as surprised but me when he openhanded slapped me; it shocked me more than it hurt. "Don't you ever—EVER," he shakes me slightly, "SAY THAT AGAIN! You are where you belong, by my side. And that's where you are going to stay! I need you." His voice softened, "Chief, you'll see. We'll find her. If I have to search this entire world I will, even for the slightest hope that she can help you."

A tear slips down my slackened face, Jim wipes it away. I just nod.

"Alright, well, Trevor was stationed in the 23rd Precinct," he turns the car on again, looking both ways before continuing to drive. "If he's still there, I know that I can get him to give us the information."

"How?" I ask, my voice still shaky.

"He owes me one. I saved his life once."

"Oh…yeah, that'll do it." I smile. It wasn't a big one, but I tried.

Jim smiles back, then laughs lightly. "Yeah, I guess it will, huh?"

23rd Precinct

It was strange to walk into a police station with no knowledge of who anyone was. Jim stopped by the desk to ask where Lockley was. The woman pointed to a desk in the center of the room. It faced away towards the window.

We both walked up to the desk. Jim smiled, then leaning towards the person sitting in the chair, whispered, "I guess you still haven't learned your lesson about turning your back on your enemies, huh, Lockley?"

The chair whipped around quickly, a woman standing up, hand against her holster. "What did you just say to me? Who are you?"

Jim backed up, putting himself in front of me. "I'm—I'm sorry, officer. I just thought that this was Officer Lockley's desk."

"IT IS! I'm Lockley. What do you want?" Her aggression was still evident.

Jim looked puzzled, thinking; suddenly he smiled, "Katie? Is that you? OH, my god. It's been years! You're a police officer now? Like your Dad? Congratulations. I can't believe that he didn't tell me."

She looked at him, eyes wide as she finally recognized him, "Uncle Jim?" She laughed. "Oh, my god. It's so good to see you." She flung herself into his arms, hugging him quickly. "It's been at least ten years, Uncle Jim. Where have you been?"

He smiled at her widely, "I live in Cascade Washington. Sorry, short-stuff. I was busy and to be honest, I wasn't really ready to look up old army buddies and their families. So how are you? How's your dad? Retired yet?"

Directing both of them to the chairs in front of her desk, I couldn't help but notice she'd made detective, as her badge indicated, at a young age. Jim introduced the both of us as we sat down. "Well, I'm a detective now. It's um—it's going okay, I guess." She shot a look at her fellow co-workers who were staring. "As for dad, I'm sorry Uncle Jim, he died a year an a half ago. He was murdered."

We both rubbed our jaws, "Oh, man. I'm so sorry Katie. I didn't know." Jim mumbled.

She rubbed her forehead, "That's okay. Now, did you want something Uncle Jim? Why were you looking for my dad?"

I straightened, "Yeah, um, we were hoping that he—you might be willing to look up a police report for us. It would've been a year ago. A young woman—I don't know her name unfortunately—she had a psychotic break; The only thing that we know is that an ambulance would've been called to take her to the hospital." I cut out that she claims to have had "visions".

"Why do you want to find her?" Kate asked. That made us both freeze. It wasn't the question; it was how she said it. Like she knew exactly what we were talking about.

"You know her." It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Her entire body language spoke of her tension.

Jim sat up on his heels, "Katie. Please, please. We just need to talk to her."

Her face was guarded, "Uncle Jim. I'm sorry. The young woman in question is protected by a va—by someone who you definitely do not want to cross. It is dangerous to get involved with them. Innocent people have died around them. Trust me, the group of people that she works with—well, let's just say they think they are above the law. I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

I lean in, my eyes pleading with her, "Det. Lockley. Please, just a name."

Her eyes darted around the room, trying to figure out what to do. "Fine. I'll tell you where you can find her." She pulled out an old business card from her desk. It was starting to turn brown. The card had a strange butterfly on it. 'We help the hopeless' was typed out, plus a phone number.

"What is this?" Jim asks.

"That's where she works. Angel Investigations. Listen Uncle Jim, please. Just be careful. It's really dangerous. Dad—well, you don't want to get involved with their business." With that, she stood up and walked away, leaving the both of us to stare at the business card, then each other.

I licked my lips, "Jim. Did we just find her?"

"Yeah." He said this simply.

"Jim?"

"Hmm?"

"Why would a twenty year old girl be dangerous?"

To Be Continued…

So, what do you think? Getting more interesting?