As a cop, Jim Ellison had always had the ability to step outside circumstances and see the bigger picture, with fresh eyes and a renewed sense of perspective. Sometimes, it was a damned lucky skill to have. Sometimes, it kicked in at the least opportune moment possible. Like in the middle of chasing down a dangerous fugitive, an extremely disturbed mental patient escaped from the Conover facility. Still, he couldn't help thinking the whole operation was a study in overkill. Half the Cascade PD were in pursuit, and there was enough firepower to win a minor military skirmish trained on one desperate, terrified, seemingly unarmed woman. How was that right?

//Jesus, Ellison, get a hold of yourself. You're beginning to sympathize with the other team.//

It was just that she didn't look like a deranged lunatic who'd pickaxed her husband.

Still.

He knew people weren't always what they appeared. He'd learned that the first year on the job. You thought you knew what evil looked like. You assumed it conformed to all your prejudices, that you'd just know it when you'd see it. But nothing could be more untrue. You quickly found that evil came in a variety of packages, some more outwardly expressive of the inner hideousness than others, but all of it evil, just the same.

He'd been taught that lesson by a cold-blooded killer, his first child murder case, never far from his nightmares. The whole time they'd been investigating the series of sickening crimes involving the abduction, torture and drowning of grade school kids he'd imagined the killer's face--reptilian eyes beading with malice, greasy hair, contorted features, disgusting, pasty flesh, Beelzebub incarnated. The person they ended up apprehending looked like he'd just stepped out of a Hollywood movie, the all-American boy, blond, clean cut, big innocent blue eyes. He'd used those wholesome good looks and his mild-mannered demeanor to gain the children's trust and lure them to their deaths.

After they'd handcuffed the guy and Jim was putting him in the back of the patrol car, the perp had flashed him the most beatific expression he'd ever seen, a knockout of a grin, the perfect features lighting up with the power of a thousand suns, a million-dollar smile. And then Jim's mind had flashed on images of the children's bodies, blue and bloated and icy as the grave. He'd shoved the bastard the rest of the way into the car, not worrying whether he banged his head, wanting to throw up. It had been a lesson well-taught, and he'd never forgotten it.

He tried to tell himself that's what was going on here. A small, pretty blond woman didn't fit his notion of a crazed ax murderer. //But she *did* hack her husband to death. Don't forget that. And she was cunning enough to escape. And another attractive blond woman nearly ended your world, so never underestimate them.//

Still.

They had her cornered on the roof of the Lorden Towers, a high-rise office building in downtown Cascade. There was no telling why she'd been drawn there. Most likely there was no rational explanation. According to Dr. Smith, who had been in charge of her treatment at Conover and had reported her disappearance, she was delusional and disoriented, prone to violent psychotic breaks with reality. Of course, she'd had enough sense to find street clothes somewhere. And she'd managed to make it this far, bypassing security to get up to the roof which was supposed to have restricted access. //Crazy doesn't mean stupid.//

The woman was trying to hide behind an air conditioning duct on the far side of the roof. The cops were hanging back at a safe distance, for the moment, taking precautions in case she had a concealed weapon, giving negotiation a chance before moving in with force. She was too far away for anybody else to see her clearly, but Jim could monitor her with his Sentinel sight. He could see she was shaking. He narrowed his vision and focused on her face. Her pupils were dilated, and she appeared to be under the effect of some kind of drug.

"I'd like to be the one to talk to her, Captain. I've been working with her for a while. I might be able to get through to her," Dr. Smith said.

Simon nodded. "Go ahead. We've got you covered."

"If this doesn't work, I'm afraid...you have to understand, Captain, she's far too volatile and potentially dangerous to leave this roof not in custody."

"Why don't you leave it to us, Doctor? We'll bring her in one way or another, but we don't make it a habit of shooting unarmed women. Not when there are other options." Jim couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. There was just something about this guy that irked him. He had the kind of cool, detached smugness that Jim always associated with psychiatrists and didn't like one little bit.

"She seems more scared than anything else," Blair ventured quietly.

"If you'd seen the photographs of what she did to her husband, you'd think differently," the doctor said snidely.

Simon cleared his throat. "Are you ready, Doctor?"

He nodded and took a couple of steps forward. "Elizabeth? It's Dr. Smith. I want to talk to you. I know you've been making progress lately, but you still need to be at the hospital, getting treatment. Remember what happened to your husband? I know you're sorry about it and would never want to do anything like that again. But you're not well enough yet to be sure you won't. Are you, Elizabeth? Think about your husband. We don't want a repeat of that, do we?"

Jim watched her face contort at the doctor's words. Absolute horror. She fled to the edge of the building and over the side.

"Shit! Nice fucking technique, Doctor," Jim shouted at the man, pushing him out of the way.

He ran to the spot where she'd gone over and looked down. Thankfully, she was huddled on a narrow ledge a few feet below, eyes closed, tears streaming down her face, rocking very slightly, talking to herself in desperate, broken phrases.

"How could I...I didn't mean to, I couldn't have, oh God...but I did, I did it. I'm so, so sorry. God help me. My poor, poor Sam. Oh God, how could I?"

"Is she..." Blair asked, voice anxious and Sentinel soft, from a few yards behind him.

He turned around. "She seems to be okay. She landed on a ledge just a little ways down. I can reach her. But I don't want to scare her and make her fall. I'm going to try to talk to her and see if I can get her to trust me. Maybe I can get her to let me pull her back up."

Blair nodded, inching forward a little, eyes peeled on Jim, watching for any signs of a zone out, the last thing they'd need under the circumstances.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, can you hear me?" he asked.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her face was filled with agony and remorse, and it was like staring into a mirror. He knew that look, recognized those feelings, the very same ones he'd had for three months, ever since he'd found Blair in that fountain, dead, if only for a few moments, and all of it his fault.

"He gave me everything," she said. "And I...oh God...look how I repaid him. I don't know how I could have. I loved him so much. I really did. He was a good man. And he saved me. He gave me my life back and my sanity and a reason to go on. He trusted me. But I didn't deserve it. And I don't deserve to live either, not after I did such a terrible, terrible thing. I can still see the blood. On my hands. His blood. To remind me I'm guilty. That's why it doesn't come off. Can you see it?"

She held her hands up for him to see, staring at them herself, both mesmerized and repelled.

"It never, never comes off."

"I don't think you meant to hurt him, Elizabeth," he said in his most gentle voice.

"But I did hurt him. Very badly. I...killed him."

"I don't think you meant to."

She shook her head so violently he worried she was going to topple off. "How could you know?"

"Because I can hear how sorry you are."

She sobbed, "I *am* sorry. Very, very sorry. I don't *think* I meant to do it. It gets hard to remember. But he's still...and I'm so sad."

"I can see that too. And you know what? *I* think you deserve forgiveness."

She became agitated. "No! It was a bad, bad, horrible thing I did. There's no forgiveness. Not for that."

"But you're sorry. I can see how sorry you are. And I know you wouldn't have done it if your judgment hadn't been clouded. If you had been thinking clearly."

Her face twisted with concentration, trying to make sense of it. "My mind hurts when I try to think about it. There's just the blood. See? It's on my hands."

"You see, Elizabeth? It's unclear in your own head. That's why I don't think you ever meant to hurt him. It was more like an accident, a terrible accident. And now you're really, really sorry about it. And people who are really sorry deserve forgiveness."

"Do you forgive me?" she asked in a broken, shaky voice that anyone else would not have heard.

"Yes, Elizabeth, I do. And I'd like you to come back to the roof and go on living and get better and try to forgive yourself. Because I'm sure that's what your husband would have wanted."

She nodded. "Sam would have wanted that. He was such a good man. I guess I could try. For him."

"Okay, Elizabeth, that's great. Now, all I need you to do is give me your hand, and I'll help you back up. Okay? Do it for your husband. Just give me your hand."

She blinked at him, still slightly dazed, but slowly understanding what he wanted her to do. She reached out tentatively with her hand.

"That's right, Elizabeth. I've got you now. I'm going to pull you up. Just hold on."

He almost had her over the wall when the doctor moved between them and reached out for her hand.

"Let me help you, Elizabeth."

"NOOOOOO!!!!" It was the most bloodcurdling scream Jim had ever heard.

She pulled away violently and fell backwards, barely catching the edge of the ledge, nearly plunging to her death. He watched her struggle to pull herself back up to safety. Once there, she lay completely still, face down, only her back rising and falling with her labored breath. He could hear her muttering disjointedly to herself.

"Not going back there. Not going back there. It's a bad place. Makes my head crazy. Can't make me do bad things. Can't make me. Can't make me. Rather die. Rather die."

He slammed the doctor into a nearby wall and got in his face. "You fucker, you asshole! What the hell do you think you're doing? I told you this is a police matter, and we'll handle it. Our way. You got that Doctor?"

"Jim!" he felt a light touch on his arm, his Guide's warm, gentle hand.

He let go of the doctor. "Ramsey, get this idiot out of here and make sure he stays back."

The uniformed officer came forward and took the doctor unceremoniously by the collar, manhandling him back behind the police lines.

"Are you okay, man? You seem a little involved here. What's going on with you, Jim?"

He only shook his head, unsure how to answer. How could he tell his Guide that he understood this kind of pain all too well, that he empathized with this woman who'd destroyed the one thing she most treasured. How could he tell his Guide how sorry he was and have him really believe it?

"No matter what she's done, Chief, I just...I don't want to see this end badly."

Blair nodded. "I'm down with that. Do you think you can reach her again?"

He shrugged wearily. "I don't know. But I've got to try."

"Okay, man. I'm with you."

She lay in the same position, unmoving, whispering the same disconnected thoughts like a chant.

"Elizabeth? I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry he scared you. I promise he's gone now. He's not going to come back. I won't let him. I'd still like to help you get out of this. Will you let me? Will you give me your hand again?"

No response. She lay still as an inanimate object.

"Elizabeth. Please. Let me help you. Elizabeth..."

"Beth! Beth!" A desperate voice, barely audible to anyone but a Sentinel, called from the other side of the roof.

The woman looked up for a moment, a mixture of shock, disbelief and hope on her face. Jim felt his gut wrench.

"Not another dream," she whispered and lay her head back down.

"You have to let me through." Jim could hear the man's voice rising, a slight Southern accent, arguing with Ramsey. "You have to let me talk to her. I can get her off that ledge. Look, I'm her husband. She'll listen to me."

"Buddy, that woman killed her husband. That's why the doctor and all the rest of us are out here. So if you don't want any trouble, then I'd advise you to go back where you came from. Hey, Patterson, can you give me a hand with this jerk?"

Jim could see the dark-haired man struggle as the officer began "helping" him toward the door.

"You don't understand! I *am* her husband. She didn't kill anyone. That's just what that pig wants you to think," he screamed, pointing at Dr. Smith. "Why don't you check his credentials? Call wherever he claims he's from. He's not who he says he is. If you want to arrest someone, arrest that bastard for what he's done to my wife."

"Chief, I need you to keep an eye on her for me. See if you can get her talking again. Call for help if it looks like she's going to jump. I'll be right back."

Blair nodded and moved over to the edge of the building. Jim could hear the low, soothing patter of his partner's words, as Blair unconsciously switched into Guide mode to try to reach the distraught woman. Jim quickly crossed the roof and intervened between Patterson and the man claiming to be her husband.

"I can handle it from here," he assured his fellow officer.

"He says he's the nut case's husband."

"Okay. Thanks Patterson. Good work. I'll get it sorted out. They could probably use some more help keeping people off the roof if this guy managed to slip past."

Patterson hesitated slightly, ready to have it out with the persistent pest. But Jim was his superior, and he finally just nodded and took up a position by the entrance.

"So you want to tell me what this is all about? How do you know the fugitive?" Jim asked.

Anger flashed through the man's dark eyes. "She's *not* a fugitive! That's just some bullshit story they made up, so you'd do their dirty work for them. That bastard and whoever he's working with kidnapped my wife and held her against her will for the past month. I've been searching for her all this time, and I finally tracked her to Cascade. Actually, I was here in the building meeting with a private investigator I hired to help me find her. Somehow, she must have managed to escape, and now they're trying to cover up their crime. You can be damned sure they don't want her to make it off this roof alive. The *doctor* is here to make sure she jumps or you people shoot her. He'll tell you any lie to see that happens. But I swear to you. It's *all* lies. She's completely innocent."

Throughout the tirade, Jim monitored his vital signs. He was agitated, pumped up with adrenaline, angry, but telling the truth. He had known there was something wrong with the doctor earlier, something rotten about this whole situation, another flash of intuition he hadn't paid close enough attention to.

And then there was the why of it all, why this woman had been taken. The part that scared him.

"So could you enlighten me as to why these people are after your wife?" he asked.

The man looked away. "Who knows why people do the terrible things they do?"

Jim heard the slight flutter in the heart beat, and he could smell the anxiety. The man was lying, as Jim suspected he would. And he pretty much knew why. Damn it! It was just about the last thing he ever wanted to deal with again.

"Please, Detective, let me talk to Beth. She's in bad shape, and she really needs me," the man pleaded softly.

Jim jerked his head toward the other side of the building, and the man followed him.

As they passed by, Simon grabbed his arm. "Jim? What's going on?"

"Simon, I think we may have been mislead here. This man claims to be her husband. He wants to try to talk her off the ledge."

His commanding officer gave the man the once over and shot Jim a questioning look.

"I think we should give him a chance and sort it out after we have her safely back on the roof," Jim said.

Simon nodded. "I'll order everyone to stand down. But if this doesn't work..."

"Understood, sir."

He motioned to the man, and they joined Blair in his vigil by the side of the roof.

"She's not responding," Blair said, sounding worried.

He put a hand on his partner's shoulder and maneuvered him back from the wall. "Let him try, Chief."

Blair looked puzzled but followed his lead. The man stepped up to the edge of the building.

"Beth? Sweetheart, it's Sam. It's really me, sweetie. Listen to my voice. You know it's true, baby. I'm not dead. You didn't kill me. You never hurt anybody in your life. Whatever they made you believe, it was all lies, Beth. See? I'm here, and I'm not going to let anybody hurt you ever again. Okay? So please, please don't hurt yourself, sweetheart. Come on back, love. Let me help you back up here. We'll get this mess cleared up, and then I'll take you home. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Jim tried not to flinch. He recognized the honey silk texture of that tone so well. It was so much like the voice that had lead him out of the darkness a hundred times.

"Yes, I want to go home," came Elizabeth's answer on a choked sob.

"Good, sweetie, good. Now can you sit up for me. Be careful! That's a girl. Now give me your hand. Reach it out to me, sweetheart. I'm going to pull you up. Okay? You just hang on. That's my girl. Here we go."

Jim helped him, and together they managed to pull her up from the ledge, over the low wall and onto the safety of the roof. She collapsed into a heap on the blacktop, weeping. Her husband knelt beside her, taking her in his arms, cradling and rocking her, stroking her hair, murmuring reassuring words, broken phrases of comfort. She clung to him, clutching handfuls of his shirt, trying to get out words between the sobs, struggling to make sense of it all.

"But they told me...oh God, and I remember it. I still see it whenever I close my eyes. How can I see it if I didn't...oh God, I really thought I had. I'm sorry, Sam. Oh God, I'm so, so sorry. I can see you lying there on the ground. And there's blood everywhere. And it's on my hands, and it doesn't come off. And it was me who did that to you. At least, I thought it was. Oh God, I thought I killed you."

He kissed her head and rubbed her back. "Shh. Shh. Hush now. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't hurt anybody. You have nothing to be sorry for. I know it's hard, baby, but you have to let go of those images in your head. None of it ever happened. It's just what they wanted you to *think* happened. They planted all that crap in your mind. They're not real memories. Can you think back and try to remember what really happened?"

The sobs were beginning to subside, and she frowned, trying to concentrate. "Maybe. It's hard. Wait. Yes. They had on ski masks. And they wore black. All black. They broke into the office."

He held her tighter. "That's so good, Beth. You're remembering. You had a few late patients that day. You stayed late to get caught up on some paperwork. The people in black broke in. Can you remember anything else? Do you know where they took you?"

She shook her head. "It's all fuzzy."

"That's okay," he soothed her. "We'll figure it out when you're ready. How do you feel? Are you all right?"

"My head feels weird. Heavy. And everything looks...it's like it's all behind gauze. And far away."

"They probably drugged you. We'll find out at the hospital. Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Uh-uh."

"That's good, baby. I was really, really worried about you. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you..." he broke off, pulling her closer.

"I'm so glad you're...oh God, I'm so relieved. Thank God, Sam. Thank God. I love you so much."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Jim watched his partner stare at the reunited couple, taking in the scene of resurrection and redemption, a tangle of emotions playing over his naked face. And he longed to hold Blair, as the man held his wife. He wanted nothing more than to stroke the wind-tangled curls, to whisper gentle reassurances into his ear, to tell him how relieved he was, how glad, how much he...

//Not now, Ellison, not now. Gotta keep it professional, keep your mind focused on the job. Besides, you lost the right to say all those things to him when you failed to protect him. When you treated him like shit and kicked him out of his own home like the asshole you are. And left him undefended for that bitch to...shit! Not gonna go there. You know he's never really forgiven you and probably never will. And it's all your own doing. And you'll just have to live with it. At least, he's still alive and for whatever crazy reason, still lets you be part of his life. For now anyway. Thank God, thank God for that at least.//

A thought jolted through his misery.

"Shit!" he whirled around, not really expecting to find what he was looking for.

"What, Jim?" Blair asked, his eyes wide.

"That asshole doctor. Or whoever he was. Where the hell did he go?"

Blair helped him look. Together, they searched the roof, checked with the other officers, including Ramsey, who'd been keeping an eye on him. Unfortunately, during all the excitement, Ramsey had gotten distracted, and the doctor was now nowhere to be found.

"It's beginning to look more and more like our 'fugitive' is actually the victim here," Simon said. "I called for an ambulance. Let's get her to the hospital, and then work on confirming her identity and her story. I'll put some men on the mysterious doctor's trail, but I'm sure we all know how much good that will do."

"Damn it!" Jim cursed. "I can't believe I let that weasel get away. I knew there was something off about him the minute I saw him. Something wrong with this whole situation. I have got to learn to trust this...whatever this thing is."

Blair put a reassuring hand on his arm. "Don't you think you're being a little hard on yourself, big guy? You're not the only one on duty here. And it's not like anybody else noticed him slipping away."

Jim rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was beginning to get a headache. He lowered his voice. "But I am the only one here who's a Sentinel, Chief. When I don't listen to this intuition, people get hurt. And that's not okay."

Blair blinked at him, recognition dawning that they weren't really talking about the case at hand. Words formed on his lips but went unsaid, as they did far too often these days.

Jim sighed and put a hand on his partner's back. "Let's get her off to the hospital and then head down to the station to start figuring out what happened here today, huh, Chief?"

Blair just nodded, lapsing back into the now familiar silence.

It took some convincing, but they finally managed to get Elizabeth to agree to the hospital visit. When she first saw the EMTs, she let out a terrified scream and tried to lunge back toward the side of the building. Fortunately, her husband had a firm grasp on her and was able to calm her down and explain they were only trying to help, that they weren't the same people who had kidnapped her. After some minutes of soothing and reassurance, she let them put her on the gurney, although she kept a tight hold on her husband's hand. Together, they left in the ambulance for the hospital, accompanied by several uniformed officers. Elizabeth was under protective custody until they sorted out the whole mess and just in case the kidnappers came looking for her again.

Only a few hours later they had all the confirmation they needed that Sam and Elizabeth had been telling the truth. A quick call to Conover told them that Elizabeth had never been committed there, and they had no Dr. Smith on staff. They took fingerprints from the couple, and the computer came back with a match from DMV records in California. They were exactly who they claimed to be, Dr. Elizabeth Knowlton and her husband, Sam Crawford. Jim called an old friend at the San Francisco PD and learned that Mr. Crawford had reported his wife missing a little over a month ago. Dr. Knowlton was well-known in the city, had a thriving psychiatry practice and even did some consulting for the state parole board, making recommendations at parole hearings. Given Dr. Knowlton's ties to the criminal justice community, the police had put some real time into the case but had come up with no solid leads. They didn't consider her the type to run off, so they were treating her disappearance as suspicious. Her husband had an airtight alibi and was not considered a suspect. They'd pretty much had to reconcile themselves to waiting for the body to turn up, figuring she was already dead if there'd been no word from her and no ransom demand.

"I'm glad to hear it turned out happier than we expected," his friend said before they hung up.

"Yeah, me too," Jim agreed. "Look, I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one, Jimbo. But who's counting? Take care of yourself."

"You too."

Blair looked at him expectantly.

"SFPD confirmed the husband's story. It's just like they said."

"Geez, and to think what could have happened to her up on that roof," Blair shivered.

Jim patted his shoulder. "Yeah. I know what you mean, Chief. I'm gonna go update Simon. You wanna come?"

Blair shook his head. "Nah, man. You can handle it. I'm gonna start on this paperwork."

"Okay, Chief. Whatever you want."

There was a time when Blair would not have let him go into Simon's office to discuss the weather without him. Nowadays, he hung back more and more often. Jim just wondered how long it would be before he stopped working with him altogether. And then moved out of the loft and left Cascade and fell out of his life completely.

//Don't go there, Ellison. It'll come soon enough. No need to anticipate it. Try to hang on to him as long as possible. Try to enjoy him while you can. Try not to think about the sadness in his eyes and who put it there.//

He knocked on the captain's door and waited for the bellow that invited him in.

"What've you got, Ellison?"

"Their story checks out, sir. Here's the information on the victim, Dr. Elizabeth Knowlton. I'd like to go down to the hospital and see if I can get a statement from her. If that's okay with you. I assume we'll want to investigate it as a kidnapping, cooperate with SFPD on it."

"And let's nail the 'doctor' for impersonating a state official while we're at it."

"I'll get right on it, Simon," he said, reaching for the door.

"Wait a second, Jim."

"Yeah, Captain?"

"How's Sandburg doing? I mean, *really* doing. Not the official story you tell your supervisor, but the truth, for someone who's a friend. Because from where I'm sitting he doesn't seem any closer to being over it than he was three months ago. Hell, he hasn't even once lectured me on the dynamics of a closed society. He'll go a whole day and barely say three words. And that's the most un-Sandburg like thing I can imagine. I gotta tell you, Jim, I'm concerned here."

Jim sighed and sat down. "Me too, Simon. But I don't know what to do for him. I suggested that maybe he should go talk to somebody, and he gave me the silent treatment for two days afterwards. I can't tell you how hard that was to take coming from Blair."

"Does he at least talk to you about it?"

He shook his head.

"Never? Not even right after it happened? You mean you didn't even talk out the stuff that happened with you guys before...didn't you at least make it right between the two of you?"

"He said he forgave me, but..."

"You don't think he did?"

Jim shook his head sadly.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to try talking to him again, instead of just letting it fester? It's obviously not doing either one of you any good."

"I don't know how to Simon. I always relied on him to...do this kind of thing. Now that he's not talking..."

"Well, Jim, you're just going to have to figure it out, because I can't let this go on much longer. If Blair's not a hundred percent, he could be in danger out there. He could put you at risk. I can't have that. Listen, you know the *last* thing I want to do is yank the kid's credentials, but if things don't improve, I won't have any choice."

"I'm afraid that may not be an issue much longer anyway, Simon."

"You mean, you think he's gonna quit?"

"I have to badger him into coming to work with me as it is. It's pretty much the last thing he wants to do. And yeah, I don't think he's gonna keep it up much longer."

"Geez, Jim, I didn't know it was that bad. You really do need to sit down and have a serious talk with him. He needs to know that you still want him around here, that we all do. Tell him how valuable he is to the department. Let him know how much you need him. As a partner. And with the Sentinel thing. And as a friend, if you have any sense at all."

He shook his head and felt a heaviness settle in his chest. "I think I already missed the boat on that. I just took him for granted once too often. I don't know what I expected. That I could act like a prick whenever I felt like it and he'd always just forgive me. But I said some things...well, I guess there are just some words you can't take back."

"I really hope that's not true, Jim."

"You and me both, Simon. You and me both."

"Let me know how it goes. With Sandburg. And Dr. Knowlton."

"Will do, Captain."

He closed the door behind him and rejoined Sandburg at his desk.

"Hey Chief, you up for coming with me to the hospital to talk to Dr. Knowlton and Mr. Crawford?"

"Well, I've still got all this..."

"Come on, Chief," he coaxed. "I could really use your help down there."

He hesitated a moment. "Okay, man. Let me get my coat."

The truck ride over to the hospital was silent, as it tended to be these days. Jim watched Blair out of the corner of his eye, but his partner just stared out the window the whole way.

Once at the hospital, they checked in with Elizabeth's doctor and found that she had been admitted.

"We're still doing tests," Dr. Langtree told them. "But she's definitely been drugged. My best guess is a combination of psychoactive drugs that were used to induce hallucination and extreme suggestibility. We've begun some basic detox. Once we know exactly what we're dealing with, we'll be able to prescribe better treatment."

"Can we talk to her?" Jim asked.

"I'm afraid she's not likely to be of much help right now. She's pretty out of it. Fading in and out of consciousness."

"We'd like to try anyway, if that's okay with you."

The doctor shrugged. "Sure. She's not in any imminent danger. Her husband's with her. If it's okay with him, it's okay with me. She's in Room 317."

"Great. Thanks."

They took the elevator up to the third floor and found Elizabeth's room.

"I'll wait for you out here. She's probably not in any shape to have a lot of people crowding her."

"Okay, Chief. I'll be back in a few," he said, pushing open the door.

Somehow in the safe, orderly environment of the hospital, Elizabeth Knowlton looked even more worn and fragile than she had up on the roof. She lay curled near the edge of the bed, sleeping, close to her husband, who was stroking her hair and holding her hand. She had large dark circles beneath her eyes, chapped, cracked lips and an unhealthy pallor. The very set of her body suggested extreme exhaustion. It was clear she'd been through hell.

Jim was about to clear his throat and get their attention when he heard the murmuring, low and gentle, Sam quietly comforting his wife. Too quietly. He watched her snuggle closer, seeking solace in her husband's physical presence and his sweet words. Jim felt the room spin, the edge of his vision shimmering and sparkly. He had to close his eyes to keep from becoming violently ill. He should have been prepared for it. He had more than suspected it up on the roof, but to have final confirmation...that threw him. It had been his fervent hope never to run into another Sentinel again as long as he lived. But here she was. No other explanation.

He opened his eyes and found her watching him, eyes still a little clouded from the drugs but filled with understanding. A moment, a look, a sign--something as old as time--passed between them. He knew what she was. She knew what he was. It was the mutual recognition of two Sentinels and all the questions that went along with it.

She closed her eyes again and fell asleep once more, pale and weak. Not a threat, it ocurred to him. //That must be why I don't have the same sense of danger that I did with...the other one. But what about when she gets well? How will I react to her then? What will she try to do?// Warring impulses tore through him, the Sentinel and the cop unusually at odds. The Sentinel wanted to grab his Guide and get him to safety and keep him there until this woman left his city. The cop, on the other hand, understood that he had a sworn responsibility to protect this couple who were still most likely in grave danger.

The cop won, but the Sentinel remained on high alert.

He went back outside. Blair looked at him expectantly, but he simply laid a hand on his partner's shoulder and took out his cell phone.

"Banks."

"It's Ellison, Captain. Look, we've something of a situation down here at the hosptial. Dr. Knowlton and Mr. Crawford are in more serious danger than we thought. We need to double the guards and arrange for a safe house for them once she's well enough to be released from the hospital."

"Why, Jim?" Simon asked.

Blair's expression repeated the question.

"Because she's a Sentinel. That's why they took her. And they can't afford not to finish the job."

"Oh lord, not another one."

Blair only gasped and then went sickly pale.

"Yeah, I know, Simon. I'm no more happy about it than you are. Look, I'll be back at the station in about an hour. I want to get Sandburg home."

"Take care of him, Jim."

"Don't worry, Simon. That's exactly what I intend to do."

Jim wrapped a protective arm around his partner's shoulders and led him out of the hospital.

Blair said nothing on the ride home, which didn't come as much of a shock, but when they got to the loft, he slunk off to his room, without a word, banging the door behind him, which did surprise Jim. //Oh, great! It's going to be one of *those* spells.// Blair seemed to have two moods these days: depression and fury. In three years of living together, he could count on one hand the times Blair had gotten *really* pissed with him, overlooking occasions when even Jim realized he was being an asshole. Now Blair's flashes of anger were an almost everyday occurrence, and for the life of him, Jim could never figure out what he'd done to trigger them. Sometimes it was something as small as getting the wrong kind of takeout food. Sometimes even Blair didn't seem to know what had caused it.

He could hear Blair toss himself onto his bed, shifting restlessly, the springs squeaking with each movement. He knocked softly on the door. "Hey Chief? Can we talk?"

Blair let out his breath in a long sigh. "What is it, Jim?"

v"I'd rather not do this through the door."

"Well, come in then."

He opened the door and found Blair regarding him with irritated impatience. "What do you want, Jim?"

"I want to know why you're mad at me all of a sudden."

"Oh believe me, it is *not* all of a sudden."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you treat me like I'm some kind of baby who can't make a decision for himself, and you have since we began this partnership. If I can even call it that. What'd you even come in here for, Jim? Forget to wipe my butt?"

//I'd like to *kick* your butt about now.// Jim counted to ten and then back down again. "You know it's not like that, Chief. You're not exactly being fair. I'm just concerned about you."

"Well, back off, man. I do not need a damned babysitter. I can decide what my limits are and when I need to go home. And when I *don't*."

He sighed. "You know finding another Sentinel upset you."

"Yes, it did. Since the last one tried to *kill* me, I think I'm entitled to that. But you at least might have *asked* if I *wanted* to go home. Instead of treating me like some invalid or a basket case."

"That's not what I did, Chief. It's certainly not what I *meant*."

Some of Blair's anger began to drain away. The outbursts never went on for very long. "Yeah, well...that's how it felt."

"I'm sorry then."

'Yeah, okay. Just don't do it again."

"I won't, Chief. Promise. I'll ask first."

"Okay. Good. Thanks."

"I was going to heat up some soup for lunch. You want some?"

Blair shook his head. "I'm not hungry. You go ahead. I have some reading to do."

If they hadn't just had a fight, Jim would have insisted. Blair was not eating well, and the effects were beginning to show. "Okay. Let me know if you change your mind."

Blair nodded distractedly. He settled back onto his bed, opening a book, curling up in a way that made him look so young and vulnerable it nearly broke Jim's heart. He left his partner to his reading, closing the door quietly behind him. //I am so tired of this. Sometimes I really wish he would just come out and say it. That it's all my fault, that he *doesn't* forgive me, that he...hates me. As awful as that would be, at least it would be out in the open.// God, he missed Blair, the old Blair. And the old days, the way things used to be. But the days when the two of them had companionably shared a meal or just hung out together on the weekends seemed like a dream. Nowadays, it was either silence or an explosion. That's how they related to one another. Jim ate lunch and was just finishing up the dishes when his cell phone rang, the station calling him back down with developments on another case he was working.

He knocked on Blair's door. When there wasn't any answer, he opened it and peeked in. Blair was still in the same position, concentrating intently on the page he was reading.

"Chief?" he called, as quietly as possible. But not quietly enough. Blair jerked with a violent start.

"God, Jim, give me a heart attack."

"Sorry, Chief. Didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't *scare* me," his partner insisted defiantly.

He sighed. "Then I'm sorry I interrupted you. There's been a break in the First Fidelity robbery. You want to come along?"

Blair froze, looking both stricken and guilty for not wanting to go. //This is why it's just easier to make some decisions for you, Chief. You may know your limits, but you're not very good at respecting them.//

"You don't have to," Jim said gently. "It's nothing earth shattering. I can handle it on my own."

"Well, if you really think so..." he said, his voice filled with relief.

"I think so. I'll see you tonight."

"Okay, Jim. See you tonight. Oh, and Jim?"

He turned back around.

"I'm really..." Blair stopped, but his face said everything.

"It's all right, Chief. I understand."

His reward was a brief, tremulous smile. It was the most Blair could manage these days. "Thanks, man."