And couldn't hide the smile on his face as two pairs of bleary eyes widened in surprise when they awoke to find a full breakfast waiting for them, with a wide-awake Jim Ellison standing over it proudly and urging the two over before it got cold. Eggs, bacon, fruit, milk, orange juice. The works. He even had fresh bisquits, though whether they were actually from scratch or a product of that Pillsbury dough-boy, he'd never tell. "What's the occasion, Jim?" Blair asked, sitting himself down and eyeing the food.

Jim glowered down at him. "Why does their have to be an occasion? I was up, I cooked. And what are you looking so surprised about, missy?" He eyed Angela, hoping against hope that she was in a good enough mood to recognize his joke.

She did, smiling back at him. "This just...doesn't fit with what Blair told me about you, Jim."

He smiled at her use of his first name, and sat himself down last. "Whatever he told you, I'll bet there are a hundred stories about him that could top it."

Angela glanced at Blair. "I don't doubt it."

Blair didn't smile so easily. "How are you feeling, An?"

She shrugged, turning her attention to the food as Jim nodded for them to start eating. "I'm okay. Thanks for letting me stay overnight."

"You can stay as long as you want, Angie. I told you that." Blair flashed Jim a look.

Jim ignored it, easily supplying the words Blair was urging him to say. "Really, An. We could use a new face around here. We've got enough space."

Blair noticed his easy sincerity and his brow furrowed.

Angela laughed. "Enough space if someone ruins their back sleeping on a sofa. No thanks, you guys. I do have my own home I'll have to go back to." Her smile faded slightly, but she tried to hide it, forcing a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

Blair reached out suddenly and put a hand over hers gently. "An, it's alright to need a little help." he said simply.

She tensed, and as fast as she could and still be considered polite she took her hand away from his. "I'm not used to asking for help, Blair. Besides, I need to get over this whole thing on my own."

"I just want to help," Blair remarked quietly.

She heard the hurt in his voice and almost winced. "I know, Blair, and I wish you could. But I can't think of anything you can do. Except...don't treat me like I'm about to break down, alright? I just..." She paused. "I don't know. I feel the need to get things as back to normal as possible."

Jim saw in her eyes that she meant what she was saying- even if Blair was convinced she needed something more, he was determined to give her exactly what she wanted. "Well, Chief, we've only got an hour before we have to be at the station, and you still need a shower, so hurry up, huh?" He looked over at Angela. "And what will you be doing today?"

She grinned suddenly, glancing at Blair. "So it isn't just you he smothers, it's anyone who stays here."

Blair relaxed finally, smiling slightly. "Yeah, well, I think it's an emotional problem with him or something. He's got a real mother hen complex."

Jim glowered across the table at his roommate. "Look who's talking, Sandburg. You couldn't be more of a mother hen if you laid eggs."

"Maybe with you, but c'mon. You give me a lot to worry about. This is a guy," he continued, looking to Angela for back-up. "Who would live on chili and fast-food greaseburgers if someone wasn't there to stop him. Who would do nothing but sit around and watch sports on tv and drink beer if someone wasn't there to get him up and out there, socializing. Who would still be a giant mass of tension and bad karma if I didn't exercise my calming influence in his life."

"You're full of it, Sandburg."

Blair gazed back at Jim. "I'm full of wisdom and integrity," he intoned seriously.

"I don't know what it is you're full of, but it's brown and it leaks out your ears. Especially when you're in the middle of your Jim-Ellison-should-bless-the-day-I-entered-his-life sermons."

Blair gave Angela a resigned, long-suffering look. "You see? Crude and ungrateful. This is what I put up with day to day."

"Would you stop being a martyr and go take a shower already?"

Angela was looking back and forth between the men, smiling her amusement at their patter. When Blair finally stood, she flashed Jim a grateful look, knowing he was the one who'd gotten Blair to relax and stop giving her the third degree over her feelings.

Jim returned the smile as he stood and started clearing the table.

Blair disappeared into the bathroom, and Angela stood. "Do you want some help?" she asked, grabbing her own dishes from the table.

He shrugged. "If you want."

"I'll dry," she replied, grabbing a dishtowel and going over to the sink.

Jim started the dishes in silence, reflecting to himself how relaxed he was- and how many reasons there were that he shouldn't be relaxed.

Angela didn't break the silence, her thoughts quickly going inward and staying there as they went through the mechanical actions of watching dishes.

When Jim broke the silence a minute later, it was a surprise to both of them. "Angie?"

"Hmmm?"

He hesitated. "I'm going to ask to be assigned to your case."

She stiffened, her hands stopping their movements.

"Is that alright?"

She sighed. "I don't know." She gazed over at him for a minute. "Blair says you're the best cop in the city."

He laughed. "I don't know about that, but I do get the job done."

"That's all I want," she replied, her voice losing some of it's gentleness.

He looked down at her steadily. "An, if I get assigned this case, I'll do everything within the law to find the men who attacked you and make sure they pay. And believe me, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that other cops don't have."

She saw his confidence in his eyes. "You have my blessing then. On one condition."

"Name it."

She paused. "I want to get on with my life, Jim. Blair's a good friend, and you're...a friend, too. I want to keep you as friends. Which means no cop-talk, especially about my case, when I'm with you. Don't bring it home. Is that okay?"

He nodded firmly. "Whatever you want."

"Good. I don't want to have to talk about this every time I see you from now on."

Jim didn't answer. He busied himself with the dishes in the sink, handing them off to Angela mechanically. His mind was going a mile a minute. He wondered if they would actually be able to catch these men- they would if had anything to say about it, that was for damn sure.

He wondered how exactly Blair would respond if they were assigned the case. On that note, he wondered exactly how close Blair and Angela were. Blair had said himself she wasn't officially a girlfriend, hadn't he?

Most of all, he wondered why Ann saying then words 'every time I see you from now on' had sent a happy feeling running over him, that didn't fade as they finished the mundane chore in silence.

Jim decided to leave Blair and Angela at the loft- Simon would be expecting both men to show up, but it wouldn't take much to convince the Captain that Blair's friend needed comforting. Simon was a soft touch regarding Sandburg these days, he wouldn't complain too hard. And Angela promised to drive Blair to the station before noon.

Angela. Hmmm. The more Jim thought about her, the more confused he got. Blair's girlfriend was a piece of work, all right. She wasn't Jim's type, not at all. And he wouldn't have thought, if he'd met her outside of Blair, that she was the younger man's type either. But there was something about her, he had to admit that. Something in that air of intelligence, the air of distance between herself and everyone else in the world. In anyone else, that would seem like alofness or conceit. But in her he found it almost indearing- almost like she was waiting for someone to lead her into the stream of society.

And Blair was just the person for that. Yep, the two of them would probably end up being real good together. Blair would cheer her up, she could probably calm him down...well, one could hope. Yeah, they'd be good.

He was working very hard to convince himself that Angela and Blair were a great couple, when he was interrupted at his desk by Simon's shout.

"Ellison, get in here!"

He sighed and stood, mentally reviewing his actions in the last few days, making sure he hadn't done anything to warrant being yelled at by the captain. He ventured over to the office, nodding hello at a very cheerful-looking Joel Taggart. "Morning, Simon."

"Sit down, Ellison."

Jim sat obediently. "What's up?"

"You want Sandburg's girlfriend's case, don't you?"

The protest that she wasn't officially Sandburg's girlfriend rose to his lips, but he immediately pushed it back down. "Yes, sir. She's a friend."

Simon eyed him. "And you realize that's exactly the reason why I shouldn't give you the case."

"Simon, come on. You know the only time I get so personally involved that I might mess up is when Sandburg's involved."

"Sandburg is involved here, Jim. I saw him yesterday. If I let you two have this case, he'll be right on top of you, gung-ho to put these guys in a prison. Or a morgue."

"Simon, Sandburg would never-"

"Doesn't matter. I've made sure the case will be handled by Major Crimes, but I'm giving it to Henri and Rafe."

Jim blinked, sat up. Blinked again. Made sure his voice was nice and level. "Why?"

"I just told you why! You two are involved. Sandburg's going to want to see these guys fry, and if this turns out like most rape cases, we're never going to find the guys anyway, and if we do we'll never have enough to arrest them. You two will handle that stress better on the sidelines." SImon saw the rising protest in Jim;s eyes and held up a hand. His face grew less severe. "Besides, she's not going to really want a friend of hers looking into this, is she?"

"She gave us her blessing, sir."

SImon frowned. "You told her you were going to take the case?"

"I said we would if it was offered. Captain, I'm a good cop. If anyone can find these guys, it's me. I know, I'm involved, but not so deep I'll trip up. Come on, Simon."

"I've already sent them out. Forget it, Ellison." He paused, looking over at Jim thoughtfully. He could easily make out the signs on his best cop's face- Jim wanted these guys, and there really wasn't anything Simon could do that would make that go away. Of course, he hadn't planned on roping the Sentinel and his partner in completely..... "You won't officially handle this case. If you want to help out in your spare time, there's nothing I can do to stop you."

Jim opened his mouth to retort, but something about Simon's expression made him shut it again. He took a moment to mull over what Simon just said. Simon could easily order him no where near this case, but he didn't. Instead, he had just knowingly given Jim full unofficial permission to do what he could, off the record.

Simon gave him a slight nod. "I'm keeping your case load light for a few days, give you two time to get over what's happened to your friend."

Jim almost grinned. And now Simon was giving him all the 'spare time' he needed. On the record, two uninvolved officers were handling this case. Off the record, Jim and Blair had just been given full, if implied, permission to nab these bastards.

Dutifully, he sighed and looked resigned. "Alright, Simon. I guess I see your point. Sorry to argue."

Simon almost laughed. Jim understood exactly what he was saying. No way he would have gotten an actual apology from the man if he was still angry. "Alright then, why don't you get the hell out of my office and get some work done."

"Right," Jim jumped up and went to the door.

"Oh, where is Sandburg, anyway?"

Jim glanced back at him. "Still at the loft. Angela...um, Miss Mallory showed up last night. She was too scared to go home."

Simon frowned. "I can understand that. Is he going to-"

The door to his office was suddenly opened, and Joel Taggart peeked his face in. He looked ten times more tense than when Jim had seen him less than five minutes ago. "Uh, sorry to interrupt. Jim?"

"What? What's wrong?"

"They just got a report in of some shots fired."

Jim saw the dark look in the man's eyes. "Where?"

"852 Prospect," Joel answered simply.

"Shit," Jim raced out of the office without waiting for Simon's okay, grabbed his jacket and keys, and flung himself down the staircase.

Jesus, what was it this time? Every time he turned around, something bad was happening to him or his Guide. Or someone they knew.

He dove into the truck and pulled out of the lot less than two minutes after Joel gave him the news. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he recklessly navigated the familiar turns between the station and their home. Blair had better damned well be alright, he thought grimly. He forced himself to bury the fear that always rose within him when his Guide was in danger, swallow the what-ifs that always lodged in his mind whenever Blair's fate was uncertain, and concentrated on the grim anger that kept him functioning. He was getting rel tired of this. Tired of people attacking Blair because of his position in the Sentinel's life, tired of never being allowed to go a week without some dire emergency threatening one of their lives.

He heard the familiar sound of sirens long before he saw the cars gathered around his apartment building. Cop cars. An ambulance. The truck screeched to a stop and he jumped out, not even remembering to shut the door behind him as he went towards the door.

There were uniformed officers standing by the door, blocking the curious onlookers. One of them recognized Jim and waved him through.

He went up the stairs at a run, heading straight for his apartment. It didn't even occur to him to think that perhaps this was an unrelated emergency- there were other people living here, any one of them could be in trouble. No, he went straight to his floor, his door. And sure enough, the door was standing open. He could make out the splintered wood behind the few more uniforms that were gathered around.

Jim went up to one familiar face. "Pete. What the hell's going on here?"

Peter Stabler gave him a frown. "Jim, this is your place? I knew I recognized the address from somewhere." He saw the urgency in the larger man's eyes and quickly went on. "Right, we got a call from a neighbor, said she heard the sounds of an unknown number of men forcing entrance into the apartment, and a few minutes later heard gunshots. Didn't see any faces. We've got one body, unidentified."

A rush of fear filling him, Jim scanned the apartment for a familiar heartbeat. He filtered out the slower beats of the cops around him, and that left one rapid beat. He knew it wasn't Blair's. He knew Blair's heartbeat like he knew the sound of his voice. Which meant that if Blair was in the apartment, his heart wasn't beating. One body, unidentified. "Oh, Sandburg," Jim almost wavered as he stood. "Where is he?" he demanded, his eyes blinking so he could see Stabler through the moist sheen that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Jim, hey, relax. I said unidentified. I know Blair, remember? It's not him." The younger man, frightened by the look on Jim's face, grabbed his arm. "It's not Sandburg, Jim. Blair isn't here."

Jim blinked. Not Sandburg.

A wave of relief slammed over him as he took in the officer's words. Sandburg wasn't dead. God. It had only taken a second for Jim to convince himself his second half had been killed, now, another second later, he hadn't been killed.

Jim shook the cobwebs out of his head with a small, almost hysterical laugh. With the amount of crises and drama that they went through every day, why was Jim so quick to turn everything into something fatal?

Oh, shit. Sandburg wasn't there. "Then where the hell is he?" he demanded, his temporary relief vanishing.

Stabler frowned. "We were hoping he hadn't been here. We've got one person, some lady, she's hurt pretty bad, almost in shock. She hasn't given us a name yet. Maybe you know her?"

"Angela! Where is she?"

Stabler pointed over to the open door of Blair's room, where an officer stood in the doorway, back to Jim.

Ellison went over without another word, passing a man's body sprawled face-down on the staircase without looking at it too hard. One of the perps. Dead. Good.

He tapped the officer on the shoulder. She turned and raised her eyebrows at him. "And you are?"

"Detective Jim Ellison. This is my house. I know her. Get the hell out of my way," Jim growled it, not in the mood to deal with diplomacy right now.

The woman hurriedly went out into the rest of the apartment, and Jim looked in to see Angela, being looked over by a medic. She was on the floor by the bed, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. Jim probably could have heard her heart racing without advanced senses. He came closer, seeing the blood that was pooled under her on the ground, the same blood that coated the clothes that had been cut away by the paramedics, the same blood that was seeping through the bandages the medic held pressed into her side tightly.

Jim stood for a moment, shocked, looking down at her pale face and unblinking eyes, before he was unceremoniously pushed out of the doorway. He saw as two more medics came in with a stretcher. He heard from a distance as the fist one confirmed she was safe to move, and watched as they loaded her up and carried her out of the room without even a nod in his direction. It wasn't until they were all gone and he was alone for a moment, his eyes on the blood staining the floor of Blair's room, that he jerked out of the haze he was in and went out to the living room. Not a zone-out, he'd been watching and listening to everything, no one sense had overtaken him. He shook the haze away and went over to the woman who'd been by the door. "Did she say anything?" he demanded.

Hostility at his lack of basic politeness filled her eyes, but she gritted her teeth and nodded. "'Blair.' Over and over. The medic said she went into shock, she didn't say anything else."

Jim cursed under his breath. He glanced around at the ruins of their apartment, and saw the outline being drawn around the body on the staircase. He went to Stabler, who was talking with another officer. "So who's this?"

"No ID," Stabler shrugged. "Had to be one of the perps, unless you know the guy."

Jim reached down and grabbed the back of a head of dark hair, pulling it up, examined the brown eyes and almost comical surprise on the corpse's face, and let it drop. "Never seen him before. What killed him?"

"Gunshot in the chest. Over in a few minutes."

"Someone shot him?" Jim reflected on that. Blair wouldn't have, not unless he had absolutely no other choice. Maybe the whole thing had gone sour and he'd been shot by another one of the perps.

He had to find out what happened.

"I have to catch that ambulance." he decided, speaking more to himself than to the other officer. Without another word he was out the door again, leaving the remains of the crime scene to the cops, knowing the most important thing to do now was talk to Angela and figure out what the hell had happened here. That is, if Angela could talk.

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