Thanks once again to Carol for Beta’ing my work for me.

Special Note:  I can’t recall which one of the many TSFF writers out there was the first to give Detective Rafe a first name, but I liked it and have decided to use it.  To whomever you are… Thank you.   I’ve always liked the name Brian.

Spoilers:  None that I can think of, but this continues the story of Alicia Andreson who first appeared in Land of Nye, (and the subsequent sequel Nye Until Dark) so that means that Blair’s a cop and this is set a year, maybe more, after the events that took place in TSbyBS.

Alicia sighed as she pulled into the small parking area.  Five days.  A very long five days, spent in the desert country around Las Vegas, and she was feeling very worn out.  At least the phone calls back to Cascade, touching base with Bernie and Blair had made the trip somewhat manageable.  But her arrival back 'home' had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She'd been looking forward to some serious 'down' time, catching up on her sleep, but Bernie's arrival at the airfield had crushed all those hopes.

~ Two Hours Earlier ~

Exiting the hangar, she heard her name being called and turned to find the person approaching her.

"Alicia!"

"Bernie?  What the devil?"  She dropped her flight bag and embraced the woman.  "You didn't have to meet me, I did bring the car this time."  Looking in the older woman's amber eyes, barely visible in the sodium lights, she saw something. "Bernice?"

"Al, I'm sorry.  I just found out myself, or I would've have warned you." Bernie held on to her smaller friend's shoulders.

She shrugged off the embrace. "Warned me about what?"

"He's coming in earlier than we expected.  He'll be here by Wednesday afternoon."

Anger coursed through her body, transforming her voice into a low growl. "Shit!  Damn!  God Damn him!"  Snatching up her flight bag, she strode purposely towards her car, leaving Bernie behind.

~ Present ~

Shutting off her car's engine, the anger having been defused by the long drive back to Cascade, she hauled her weary body out of the driver's seat and grabbed her duffel bag from the cargo space.  Slamming the hatch back down, she trudged into the building that was now her home.

Knowing that she'd arrive back in Cascade in the early morning hours, she had neglected to completely change her clothing.  After all, who would be up and about at three am on a Sunday?  Taking the lift to the second floor, she opened the door to her apartment and let herself in.  Dropping her bag to the floor, she made for the kitchen, looking for anything that she might have left in there that had caffeine in it.  Her search of the fridge was rewarded with a bottle of ice tea that was tucked behind a pitcher of water.  Leaning against the counter, sipping her tea, she realized that something was wrong. Saint Germaine hadn't come out of his room to greet her.  Placing her bottle on the counter, she walked through the apartment softly calling and whistling for the kitten.  He didn't respond.  Prowling back to the living room, she found a note on the top of her computer:

Alicia,
Don't be alarmed when you come in on Sunday and you can't find little Gee. He's been spending a lot of time with Jim and me upstairs.  In fact, that is where he is right now.  I left him there with Jim when I came down here to leave the note.  I'll look for you later, to return Gee to your care and drop off your key.
Blair

Reading the note, Alicia was relieved and confused.  "Gee?  Spending time with Jim?  Blair, I could see, but Jim?  I didn't think that Gee was all that fond of him."  Shrugging out of her camouflage shirt, she walked into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed before she could shuck the rest of her 'uniform.'

Jim sat up in his bed, wondering what had woken him from a sound sleep.  From below, he heard the sound of something being dropped to the floor and smiled.  'Alicia must have just gotten home.'  He lay back on the mattress, listening to the woman move around in her apartment along with the one sided conversation she was having.  Looking down towards the foot of his bed, he spotted Saint Gee curled up on the dark blue comforter.  Filtering out the sounds coming from the kitten's owner, and focusing on Blair's heartbeat and breathing, he drifted back to sleep.

Blair was surprised that he had managed to wake up before Jim, but took advantage of the situation to grab a quick shower before coaxing Saint Gee to following him out of the loft and back down to his home.  It was just after six am as he used the key that Alicia had entrusted to him and opened the door to her apartment.

He nearly tripped over the olive drab duffel bag that lay on the floor just inside the door, only catching himself by bringing his foot forward.  Hard. Saint Gee streaked past him into the apartment and down the hall.  Blair wasn't sure exactly what happened next, but he did recall moving.  Fast. Dropping low, he ducked behind a wall that would remove himself from Alicia's line of fire.

She wasn't even aware of what had pulled her from sleep, but she slid her hand under her pillow and rolled out of bed in one smooth motion.  Engaging the laser sight on her Glock 29, she swung out into the hallway that would lead to the living area.  Targeting by sound alone, she moved the sight along the walls, seeking her target... There!  By the door! Movement!

Alicia's heart thudded in her chest as she heard the familiar voice call out to her.  "Alicia!  It's Blair!"

"Blair?  Oh, dear God!"  Her voice sounded confused, disoriented. The laser sight that had been tracking him abruptly faded from view.

Dropping her right hand, keeping the gun handy but no longer 'at ready' she walked into the living area cautiously.  The barely rising sun dimly lighted the room.  Approaching the corner, she jumped at the soft voice wafting up to her from near her knees.

"A little jumpy this morning?"

Spinning on her heel, she dropped to her knees, placing the weapon on the floor.  "Blair!  I'm so sorry!  I wasn't expecting anyone..."

Getting to his feet and holding out a hand to assist her to her own feet, he said, "That's all right, Alicia.  I didn't even realize you were home until I tripped over your bag."  He pointed in the general direction of the door.

Walking quietly over to the offending object, she kicked it against the wall, moving it out of the way.  Grimacing sheepishly, she flipped on the overhead lights and turned back to him.  "I usually don't set traps, I was just too tired to think clearly."

Bending over to retrieve her gun, Blair walked over to her, handing the Glock back.  "No harm done.  But I thought you weren't due in until this evening?"

She raked her left hand through her hair. "Change of plans."  Looking down at what she was wearing, she swore. "Crap!  I need to change clothes."  She headed down the hall to her bedroom, calling out over her shoulder, "Stay for a few minutes, will you, Blair?"

"Yeah, sure."  He walked over to the couch and sat down, only to be joined by Saint Gee.  "And why didn't you tell her I was friendly, Gee?"  The only response he got was a loud purring as the kitten settled onto his lap. Alicia's last comments had caused Blair to think.  She had been dressed in mottled tan and brown camouflage pants and a light tan tee shirt, her dark blond hair mused from sleep.  Not what one would call 'normal' sleepwear.

"Thanks for watching him for me.  I missed waking up to a friendly face." Alicia's soft words pulled him back to the present.  She'd changed into a pair of deep maroon shorts and a heather gray cropped tee shirt.  She leaned over the back of the couch to pet her kitten as he lay in Blair's lap.

Realizing that she was talking about Saint Gee, Blair pushed aside the mental images that his mind had insisted on putting on display.   "Not a problem."

 "So, did he behave?"

"Purrfectly."  He managed to 'trill' the word, just like a cat. "Gee even brought Jim a 'gift' or two."

Alicia heard the 'purr' in Blair's voice and laughter overcame her composure.  "Oh, my.  I...  Oh, my."  Fighting to regain control of herself, she leaned over and thumped her head on the couch cushions.  "Oh, dear lord!  Blair!  Do not make me laugh when I haven't had my daily allotted caffeine intake!"  Her laughter settling, she wandered out to the kitchen and started to make a pot of strong coffee.

Following her, Blair realized that she wasn't fully awake.  He hadn't thought his comment had warranted that kind of response.  "Alicia?  What time did you get in this morning?"

"A little after three, I think."  Turning the coffee maker on, she found her tea bottle on the counter and, grimacing, dumped the rancid leftovers into the sink, throwing the bottle away.  "Hey, I need to get cleaned up a bit, but could I entice you into going out to breakfast?  I'm buying."

Knowing that he didn't have any plans, Blair nodded.  "Sure.  Why not?"

"Good.  Give me an hour and tell Jim he's invited too, and you two can show me the best place for morning eats around here."

"Okay.  One hour then.  Meet you down here or in the parking lot?"  Blair started to walk towards the door.

"Parking lot, I think."

Nodding his head in agreement, Blair scooted out of the door and returned to the loft to found his roommate up and about.  "Hey, Jim!  Glad you're up. Alicia's home and has invited us to go out to breakfast."

Looking up from where he sat in the armchair, reading the Sunday paper and drinking his first cup of coffee, Jim smiled.  "I know.  She got in about three o'clock."

Raking a hand through his hair, Blair snorted.  "You heard her come in, didn't you?"

"Yeah.  What did she drop on the floor?"

"Her duffel bag, right by the door.  Tripped over it when I let myself and Gee in."  Entering the kitchen, Blair reached up into a cabinet and pulled down a coffee mug for himself, filling it with the fragrant brew from the carafe.  Walking back into the living area, he sat down on the couch across from Jim and placed the mug on the coffee table.  "I'm not sure, but I think that Alicia may have been 'reactivated' while she was away on her trip."

Looking up from the sports page, Jim pinned his friend with a curious stare. "What makes you say that?"

"I woke her up, and believe me - that isn't something you want to do.  She's really jumpy in the mornings."  He opted not to tell Jim about her pulling 'target' practice on him, and continued.  "Anyway, she must have fallen asleep in her clothes, she was wearing these camouflage pants, not green but tan and brown, and a light tan tee shirt.  Looked good on her too, but it reminded me of a uniform."

Folding the newspaper up and dropping it to the floor beside the chair, Jim stood up and stretched.  "Maybe, Chief.  After all, she was in Vegas, close to Nellis Air Base, she may just have had to report for a debriefing."

Blair looked up at his roommate in surprise.  "You're not the least bit curious about this?  After all the digging into her background that you've done over the past week?"

Carrying his coffee mug back into the kitchen, Jim explained.  "I am curious, Chief.  But I'm also tired of running into stonewalls.  I've decided that if there was anything that I, or you for that matter, need to know about her, we'd ask Alicia."

Joining Jim in the kitchen, Blair had to agree.  The two of them had run across so many dead ends during their 'routine' background investigation of Alicia Andreson, that it looked as though the only way they'd ever get anything back about her was to ask the source herself.  Even Jim's military contacts had dried up.  "So?  We drop it?"

"Have to.  Serena got back to me about the tests I asked her to run on the original letter that tipped us off to Phelps.  She couldn't come up with anything that would warrant us bringing anyone in for questioning."

"Dead end.  We know that she sent the letter, but can't prove it - in court anyway. So it's a no go.  Right?"

Smiling down into his partner's face, "Right.  Now, since we were invited to breakfast with her, I'd better go shower and clean up."

Alicia met them in the parking lot, and after a little debating, the three of them piled into her Subaru, Blair in the back seat and Jim riding shot gun. All of them were dressed very casually.  Jim directed her to a restaurant near the Interstate, a family operated business that was famous for its hospitality, and its amazingly huge pancakes.

They were seated in a booth, fairly close to the door, enjoying each other's company and their breakfasts as Alicia regaled them with the tale of her investigation in Vegas.

"... It was quite funny.  You see, this poor bloke had had an accident while out in the back of beyond north of town and tried to make it out as though he'd been 'abducted' by aliens, just because he couldn't remember where he'd left his company truck."  She let out a titter of laughter, "His blood alcohol level was so high when the state patrol found him, I'm not surprised that he couldn't remember anything.  Anyway, Brian had been trying to get this fella to 'fess up to what actually happened for two weeks..." Her voice trailed off as she glanced towards the entrance.

Looking over his shoulder to see what had drawn her attention, Jim spotted a tall, lanky, dark haired man approaching their table.

" Alicia?  Alicia Andreson, it is you!"

Standing up, Alicia hugged the younger man to her. "Bill!  Oh god, it has been so long!"

"I wasn't even aware that you'd come back Stateside until I spotted you, girlfriend!  Shame on you for not telling me sooner!"  The flamboyant man mockingly aimed a punch at the smaller woman's shoulder.

"Do it, Bill, and you'll end up on the floor.  Again."  Turning to face her two friends, she made introductions.  "Jim, Blair, this is William Earle.
Bill, this is Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, my neighbors."

William looked at the two men seated together and fairly drooled.  "You are so damn lucky, Al!  First it was that Gunter fellow in Vienna, Jean-Pierre in Paris, then that sinfully gorgeous Spaniard Sergei!  Where do you find them all?" He twitched an eyebrow at her, his eyes twinkling in merriment.

Alicia tried to hide her smile, but failed miserably. "Bill, enough!"  She sat back down on her side of the table, moving over as William squeezed in next to her.

Placing his chin in his hand, his elbow on the table, he looked at his friend's men.  "So, tell me, guys.  How did the Capt...  Ouch!  Al, that
hurt."  He leaned over to rub his shin where Alicia had kicked him.

"Sorry, leg spasm.  Have you eaten yet, Bill?"

Neither Jim or Blair took Alicia's explanation as fact; the sentinel had heard her heart rate increase dramatically when her friend had slipped, almost calling her 'captain,' not to mention having heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh under the table.  She'd purposely kicked her friend's leg to shut him up, a split second too late.

"'Sorry', she says.  Damn, you know I'm a fair and tender delicate creature. I'm going to bruise." He fairly whined that last statement, as if bruising was something to be feared.  Looking up from the table, he stood up again. "Well, I have to be going.  Carl and I are going for a Sunday drive up the coast.  I'm stationed at McChord now, Alicia, try to stay in touch, will you, darling?"  He reached over and planted a kiss on her forehead.  Then, waving at a tall, good looking blond man by the door, he hurried off before she could respond.

Rubbing her forehead, Alicia looked at her two guests.  "Sorry about that. Bill can be a real handful."

Blair smiled at her as he put his coffee cup back on the table.  He'd picked it up to hide a giggle as he realized why the man had just accosted Alicia in the manner he had.  "I bet.  He's 'family' isn't he?"

"Yeah." She looked off, grinning lopsidedly, towards the window where she could see her old friend climbing into a sporty black BMW with the blond he'd waved at.  "He only acts that way when off duty and away from the base. Other wise, you'd never guess."

Jim's glance bounced between his shaman and their neighbor. "You lost me. 'Family'?"

Blair launched into an explanation of the gay community, the social structure, the need to sometimes hide your sexual orientation, which gave Alicia a chance to finish the fresh fruit that she had ordered for breakfast, in place of the hash browns that would've normally been served with her bacon and mushroom omelet.  During his lecture, she started to rethink her previous opinion about the two men.  After all, if the two men were homosexual, would Jim be ignorant of the terms used by the gay community?

The drive back to their apartments was filled with laughter as Jim finally caught on to some of the more obscure slang used by the gay community and relayed a couple of amusing stories about his time in Cascade's Vice Squad.

They parted company in the elevator when the lift stopped on the second floor.  Alicia heading to her place and the men continuing onto theirs and the weekly chores of cleaning the loft and washing clothes.

Monday morning dawned bright and clear, making the upcoming day that much more of a hassle for the two detectives.  Standard Operating Procedures for Cascade's entire police department stated that: '...If a plain clothes officer, you will appear in court in a suit.  Barring that, you shall appear before the court in your dress blues.'

And they had a court appearance this morning. Well, not really a court appearance - but meeting with the City's new Prosecuting Attorney to go over a case.  Two cases actually: Stuart Phelps and Kinny Hackett.

Kinny Hackett case: Attempted Armed Robbery of The Garden Spot, thwarted by the team of detectives James Ellison and Blair Sandburg.

Stuart Phelps Case: AKA The Convenience Store Clown.  The former security guard had already signed a full confession stating that he was the one behind the robberies, but when confronted with a murder charge, he stated that it had not been him, that he hadn't killed or hurt anyone.  His attorney had gotten the confession overturned, since there had been nothing said about murder charges until his client had already signed the confession.  The Judge had agreed with the defense counsel and threw the case back at the PA's office, and the arresting officers.

Now it looked like the arresting officers would have to work on building a case to prove that Phelps was not only the killer of Claiborne, but a thief and a liar as well.

Jim could hear his roommate muttering in the downstairs bedroom as he dressed in his gray dress slacks, white shirt, a maroon tie and topped it off with his navy blazer.  On mornings like this, it was fun to be able to hear the mumbled, one sided, conversation of his partner.  Easing his foot into his dress shoe, Jim focused his hearing.

"I do not believe this!  I washed this shirt three damn times, and I still can't get all the fur off of it!"  Blair Sandburg exited his room, going
straight to the kitchen.  Searching through the many drawers there, he was finally rewarded with his sought after prize.  "Ah-ha!  Duct tape!  That should do the trick!"

The sound of tape hitting, then pulling away from fabric, was more than Jim could stand.  Getting to his feet, he wandered down the stairs to join his guide.  Raising an eyebrow over the other man's antics, he said, "Problem, Chief?"

Blair jumped.  "Argh!  Don't do that, Jim!  Make some noise or something, will you?"

Brushing past the agitated man, Jim reached for the coffee mug he'd left on the kitchen counter earlier.  "Sorry."  Refilling the cup, he turned to see what progress his partner was making.  "Blair?"

He looked up from his 'taping' job, "Yeah?"

"You missed a spot."  Grinning like a fool, he side-stepped the friendly tap that was aimed in his direction.  "Watch it.  You almost made me spill my coffee."

Shaking his head in disgust, Blair laughed.  "And that would be a crime, because?"

Walking over to the dining table where the morning's newspaper lay, Jim shot his remark over his shoulder, "Because, you're going to be the one stuck in the courts building with me.  All morning.  Without letting me get my full daily dose of coffee in my system first."

Shuddering in exaggeration, Blair replied, "Ooo, not a pretty picture you're painting."  Taking another strip of tape off the roll, Blair continued to remove fine, silky, black cat hair from his white shirt.  Giving up in frustration, he rolled the used tape into a ball, threw it out and put the
duct tape back in the drawer he'd found it in.  Walking over to his friend, who was reading the sports section while standing at the table, he asked, "So, did I get enough of it off, or do you think the new PA will notice?"

Looking up from the page he was reading, Jim looked his friend's shirt over. Understanding the need to make a good impression on the newest member of the legal system, one that they would have contact with in the future, he said, "Well, unless PA Crawford has suddenly developed sentinel sight, she won't notice the fur that Gee left behind."

"Great!  Let me go grab my jacket and I guess I'll be ready."  Turning on his heel, Blair zipped back into his room, only to return a few moments later, carrying his light gray suit jacket and struggling with his light blue tie.

The jacket was part of a matched set: Gray jacket, gray dress slacks and a matching vest which, due to the expected summer heat, Blair had opted not to wear.  The suit, and the pale blue, silk, tie had been a gift from Jim when Blair had made detective rank eight months ago.  Glancing at his watch, Jim realized that they were running a few minutes behind schedule.  Grabbing up his coffee mug, he drained it on the way to the kitchen, placed it in the sink and headed for the door.

"Come on, Chief.  Fix the tie on the way, we're late."  Snatching up his keys out of the basket, Jim opened the door and left the loft.

Hurrying to catch up, Blair slipped into his jacket, leaving the tie hanging loose around his neck.  After making sure that the loft's door was firmly closed and locked, he sped up his pace.  "Jim!  Man, wait up!"  Catching up to his partner at the elevator, he attempted to tie the tie again as the lift's door closed.

Seeing the problem, Jim batted his partner's fumbling hands away from the tie.  Reaching up, he straightened the collar of Blair's shirt, and was tying the slipknot on the tie as the elevator doors opened onto the second floor.

"Morning, fellas."  Alicia smiled as she stepped into the lift, dressed in her normal office wear: Navy Blazer with the double world globe emblazoned on the breast, bright white shirt and, for this morning, a navy blue skirt.

"Morning, Alicia."  Blair knocked Jim's hands away as he greeted their neighbor with a smile.  He noticed that his roommate merely nodded his greeting.

Looking both men over, she wondered if she had judged them wrong yesterday. Again.  She had caught them in what appeared to be an embrace.  "Going to court?"  She pointedly checked out their attire.

" Nah, just an informal meeting with the PA."

She quirked an eyebrow, "Ah, the dress codes must be more stringent than I ever had to work with.  This over that case that you broke before I left for Nevada?"  The lift stopped and she proceeded the men out of the car and down the hall to the parking area.

The three walked over to where their vehicles were parked side by side.  Jim, his curiosity getting the better of him, asked, "How do you know so much about prosecutorial proceedings, Alicia?"

Opening the driver's side of her Subaru, she flashed a smile at the tall detective.  "Oh?  Didn't I tell you?  I used to be a security officer in the Air Force.  Got dragged into JAG court quite a bit."  She climbed into her car, slammed the door, and once the engine was started, waved and pulled out.

Jim stared after her, puzzlement on his face.  "Damn!"  He forcibly opened
his truck's door, slamming it after he was in.

"What?"  Blair asked as he settled into the passenger's seat.

"She actually gave that up."  He started the pickup.

"Gave what up?"

Backing the truck out of the spot, he had to wait for traffic to clear before pulling onto Prospect.  "That she's prior Air Force Security."

"Uh, Jim?  We knew that already.  Remember?"

"Yeah, I know.  I just didn't expect her to admit to it, that's all, Chief."

Blair closed his eyes and shook his head, "I don't get it.  Why shouldn't she admit to her military training?  You do."

"True.  But then I could hardly avoid it after my 'rescue' had been plastered all over the national news."

Prosecuting Attorney Deborah Crawford was running late, and flew into her office to find detectives Ellison and Sandburg already there waiting on her.

"Sorry, gentlemen.  Judge Danvers was in a foul mood this morning."  Walking around her desk, she dropped a stack of case files on the surface, then picked up another folder. "Okay, lets get down to it.  Phelps' attorney is disputing the video evidence from the Claiborne shooting."  She opened up the file, "Stating, and I quote, 'The evidence presented shows no direct tie between my client and this horrendous crime.' Unquote."  Throwing the file onto her already overflowing desk, she turned back to the detectives.  "And I hate to admit this, but he's right.  I cannot use that tape in court, the 'clown' in the video never spoke, never showed his face, and while he is the same general height and build of Mr. Phelps - there is no way to prove that it is, indeed, him."

Jim straightened in his chair. "Deborah, we'll get that tie in.  We, Sandburg actually, confiscated Phelps' gun when he arrested him, we're just waiting for the results of the ballistics testing."

Deborah shook her head. "Sorry, Jim.  Got that this morning.  No match."

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, Blair.  But the test was conclusive.  The bullet that was removed from Claiborne, and the rounds fired through the 9mm that you took off of Phelps upon his arrest, they don't match."  She sat down behind the desk, looking at the two men.

Jim sat in silence for a few minutes. "May I see the report?"

Deborah shook her head as she slid a copy of the ballistics report over to the older detective. "Here, read for yourself.  Hell, you'll probably
understand it better than I do."

Reading over the report, Jim let out a frustrated sigh. "Damn, a Berretta 9mm.  There seem to be a lot of those hitting the streets these days."

Deborah frowned. "I thought you were on the stakeout with your partner, Ellison.  You didn't know the make of the gun Phelps was using that night until now?"

Seeing Jim's discomfort, Blair jumped in. "Jim was, incapacitated, when the robbery went down and well into the night.  Sudden flu bug, right Jim?"

The sentinel smiled at his friends fast thinking, "Yeah, I was, uh, puking my guts up at the time."

Deborah held up her hand. "That is more than I needed to know, thank you."

"Semi-automatic handguns have another notorious attribute, Counselor." Jim added.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"The barrels can be easily replaced, thus changing the rifling pattern."

Sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms, she scowled at the detective.  After a few moments of intense silence, she said, "Can you prove that?  Or better yet, find the barrel that matches the patterns left on the slug that ended Claiborne's life?"

Blair pulled out his ever present notebook. "Maybe, yeah, here it is.  Phelps reportedly bought his gun at Cascade Rod and Field, ten months ago.  The serial numbers matched up with the store records..."

"Okay.  Good.  Now, I have to be in Family Court in ten minutes, so what I want from you two," she gathered up the files she needed and walked them to the door, "Is a complete investigation, or Phelps may just walk on the murder rap."  Closing the office door behind herself and them, she hurried off.

Blair stared after her, then turned to his partner.  "He could really walk on that?"

Jim let out a sigh. "Yeah, he could.  Come on, Chief."  He started walking at a fast pace, leaving his smaller counterpart to catch up.

"Wait up, Jim!  Where are we going?"

"Cascade Rod And Field."