Five hours later, he was still awake, frustratingly so.  He'd finished reading his magazine, tried a couple of the new fly-tie techniques and liked the results, and even though his body felt leaden, his mind wouldn't slow down long enough for him to get to sleep.  Knowing that his roommate had gone to bed about an hour ago, and was now sleeping deeply if the snores were any indication, Jim sighed and got out of bed.  Changing into a pair of heavy sweats, he grabbed his running shoes and headed downstairs. Stopping by the closet, he pulled out his 'fanny' pack and placed his weapon, his ID, and loft keys inside and secured it about his waist.  Letting himself out of the loft, he padded down the stairwell, out into the cool night air.

Thinking that a little exercise might help slow down his mind, he took off in the direction of the park at a brisk, but comfortable, walk. Midnight in Cascade.  It was almost a magical time of night, nearly everyone was asleep, and those that weren't were heading home, or playing basketball.  The sound of young people playing on the basketball court drew Jim's attention and he wandered over to see what was going on.

He kept to the shadows, and watched as ten young men, teens really, played a spirited game of basketball.  After watching them play for thirty minutes, he realized that they weren't keeping score, just playing for the heck of it. Smiling, he thought back to when he was their age.  He'd been taking classes at Washington State, partying too hard on the weekends and not really sure what he wanted to do with his life.  Then he'd gone into the Army, trained as a Ranger, then entered Covert Ops, and his life hadn't been the same since.

Shaking off the mood that had descended on him, Jim moved away from his position and wandered back towards the loft.

A woman's whispering voice caught the attention of his sensitive ears before he could reach the door that would let him into the building. "Sanjee?  Sanjee, I know you're out here!  Come on, little one."  The voice was soft, feather soft, almost lost to the breeze that was kicking up from the bay.  It had a deep timbre to it, but not so deep as to be mistaken for a man's. There was a hint of worry to the tone that the woman was using. "Fine.  Play your game a little longer.  You know where home is for now."

There was sound of a window closing and the voice was cut off.  Rounding the corner to where the tenants parked, Jim could see that while he'd been out the newest neighbor had returned home, for the Subaru was back.  Curiosity overtook him and he walked over to lay a hand on the hood.  It was warm, and a slight 'ticking' reached his ears, telling him that the engine was still cooling off. Curiosity satisfied, he made his way into the building and back up to the loft.

Creeping stealthily into the loft, he kicked off his shoes by the door and, after getting a glass of tea from the refrigerator, made his way back over to the armchair and sat back down to finish reading the book he'd started the night before.

He hadn't even realized that he'd dozed off until the sound of something hitting the floor in the apartment below startled him.  As Jim concentrated on his hearing, convincing himself that he was just checking to make sure no one had been hurt, the noise of a radio talk show came through, loud and clear. "...We're talking a global conspiracy, people.  The Tri-lateral commission, the Illuminati, the real powers that be, folks.  And if everything I've gathered so far is correct, they are everywhere.  And now to Dee in Tucson on the phone. Welcome Dee, you're on AM Coast to Coast."

"Thanks, Art.  I know that you've been talking about the worldwide cover-ups that are going on, but what about the biggest one ever played out in the US? Area 51?  When is the Air Force going to come clean about that, huh?"

Bang. Thump.  "Damn!  Get it through your head, Dee.  They ain't ever going to tell the truth!"  The same voice from earlier drifted up through the floor below him.  But now that he'd tuned it in, he couldn't find the dial to tune it back out.  Frustration kicked in.  He bolted from his chair and headed out the door before he was fully aware of what he was doing.

He knocked on the door to apartment 207, hard.

"What?  That had better not be you, Bernie, or I'm going to hand your head to you..."  The door opened to reveal a disheveled, dark blond-haired woman wearing a cropped tee shirt and very short shorts.  "Oh!  Can I help you?"

Finding his tongue, he spoke to the barely five and a half foot tall woman withstrange hazel eyes. "I'm Jim, your upstairs neighbor.  Your radio's a bit loud and I've been hearing odd noises down here..."

He glanced into the apartment behind her to see that most of her stuff was still in boxes, except for a table with an up and running computer on it.  "Would you mind explaining why you're banging around at one o'clock in the morning?"

Leaving the door swinging wide open, the woman turned, and with hair flying, ran over to the stereo system and turned the volume down.  "Sorry about that.  I didn't mean to wake anyone."  She came back to the door. "I've just not had time to really get moved in."  Her smile was sincere, lighting up her eyes, which changed color from a grayish green to a more greenish gray.

"And you have to do it at this time of the morning?"  Jim realized he was sounding a bit peevish, but he had been asleep before being rudely awakened. The woman stepped back from the door, taking up what appeared to Jim to be a defensive posture.

"Actually, yes.  Sorry that I woke you, but I've been really busy since moving in."

"Just keep the noise to a minimum, would you?"

She shrugged, the movements causing the shirt to rise and reveal a very tight, lean stomach.   "Sure.  But I really didn't think the radio was that loud."

"It was, trust me."

"Whatever.  Look, as much as I'd love to chat a while longer with you, I've got to find something for work.  So if you don't mind?"  She closed the door in his face.

Jim stood there for a moment, wondering why his newest neighbor set off warning bells in his head.  Sure, she was cute, with dark honey blond hair cut in a short shag, and those strange hazel eyes.  He guessed her to be about five foot six inches tall, and well built.  Shaking his head, he wandered back upstairs, but not before hearing...

"Man, I was hoping to avoid neighbors this time around."

From the smells that greeted his nose when he woke up the next morning, Blair knew that Jim had passed another sleepless night.  Exiting his room, he realized he was right.  Jim sat in the armchair, reading Burton's book again, and was already dressed for work.

"Morning, Jim.  Did you get any sleep?"

Jim looked up from the last chapter he was reading through, "A little, before our new neighbor decided to listen to Art Bell and rearrange her furniture at one AM."

"You're kidding, right?"  Blair made his way out to the kitchen where a fresh pot of coffee was waiting and he opened the white bag on the counter to find fresh baked croissants and bagels.

"Chief?  Does this look like a face that would joke about something like that?" Jim had come into the kitchen to refresh his coffee, still carrying the book in his hand.  "This has been an interesting read, by the way."

Looking up into his partner's face, Blair could see the lines of tension had grown even more pronounced, the eyes were a bit more clouded.  "Oh, hell. You want to call in today?  I can handle the follow-ups myself you know."

"Do I look that bad?"

Blair nodded, "Yeah, you do.  Are you still reading Lake Regions?"

"Almost done.  Haven't found anything about watchers or sentinels though." Jim stifled a yawn.

"You won't.  He heard about them on that trip, but didn't really get into the research until his next trip to Africa and the subsequent trip to Brazil, years later."  Blair had noticed the yawn, but let it slide for the moment. "So?
What do you say?  Call in and try to sleep?  Or am I stuck with a sleepy partner all day?"

Jim smiled, "You're stuck.  Besides, while I might be yawning, I'm just not tired."

"Fine.  By the time you finish that chapter, I'll be ready to go." He headed off towards the bathroom to shower and get ready for his day.  He'd have to stick extra close to his partner today, knowing that exhaustion left the man wide open to zone outs.

Entering the Major Crimes bullpen that morning wasn't easy.  For some unknown reason, the elevators had broken down, stuck between floors, and they had had to use the stairs all the way up from the parking garage.  That had meant climbing eight levels of stairs, only to exit the stairwell and find themselves in a traffic jam of human bodies.

Spying a friendly face, Blair called out. "Rafe!  Hey, Rafe!  What the heck's going on?"

The tall, dark, good-looking detective turned to see Ellison and Sandburg trying to cut through the human logjam.  "Blair!  Jim.  Vice had a productive night." He pushed his way through to them and helped them cut a swath to the doors into the bullpen.  "Over one hundred and fifty arrests, most for solicitation, some for possession, and quite a few 'illegals'. They're taking over any and all free space to sort through the whole mess."

Closing the doors behind them, the three looked out onto the mass of bodies in the hallway.  "One-fifty?  That's got to be a record for them since I came up here."  Jim watched as he recognized many faces in the crowd, a few who noticed his attentiveness and waved to him, not using all their fingers. "Yeah, same to you too, Sal." He grinned as he returned the hooker's salute.

Turning away from the windows, Jim and Blair made their way to their desks, as did Rafe. They sat down to sift through the paperwork on the robberies. Just before eleven am, Blair found the note that Joel had left them, buried under stacks of reports from all the responding field officers on the eleven convenience store robberies.

It read:
Jim & Blair,
Take another look at that last tape.  Watch what happens when the 'clown' entered the store, and where the clerk had gone.  I think you'll see what I'm hinting at.
Joel

Locating the tape in question, Blair handed Jim the note, stood up and walked over to Captain Bank's office.  He knocked once and poked his head in.

"Captain? Can we use your VCR for a minute?"  He held up the tape, titling his head towards the man's VCR player and TV.

"We?  You got a mouse in your pocket, Sandburg?"  Simon started to chew on his unlit cigar.

Blair walked in, followed by Jim, who quipped, "Not a mouse, just a curious partner on his heels."

They watched the tape twice, then it was Simon who caught it. "Damn, it was accidental."

Jim sighed, leaning back in the chair he'd taken over. "Looks that way to me.

You agree, Chief?"

Blair dipped his head, pulling his glasses off and brushing back his hair from his face.  "Yeah.  The 'clown' came in,  and finding no one up front, helped himself to the register.  The clerk come out of the cooler, sees the 'clown' robbing the store, and jumps him.  The gun goes off, the clerk falls to the floor, and the 'clown' hesitates, then takes off with what he was able to get out of the register."

"I'll take this over to the DA's office, let Hidlemier look it over. Maybe, when you catch this guy, we can still pin a murder rap on him."  Simon stood up, ejected the tape and placed in back in its cover.  Turning back to his
detectives, he noticed just how haggard Jim looked. "You coming down with a cold or something, Ellison?"

"Or 'something'.  Just a bit tired, Simon.  Nothing to worry about."  Jim stood up and stretched, his shoulders and back popping loud enough to be heard by all.

"Okay, if you say so."  Simon left his office, leaving Blair and Jim to their own devices.

"You should've asked for some down time, Jim."  Blair followed his partner back to their desks.  "He would've understood."

"Later, Chief, after we put this case down.  Then I'll ask for a week's leave, okay?"  He sat back down at his desk and started reorganizing his notes on the case in question. He was looking for some connection, other than the clown, in the case, something that might lead them to the reasoning behind the robber's actions, his modus operandi for choosing the stores he'd robbed. There was no real pattern to the days or nights that he'd struck, and he'd never repeated a store.

"Promise?"

"What?"

"The leave time, you promise you'll ask for it and take it?"   Blair looked at him over the desktops.

"Promise."

Standing up, Blair reached into his pocket for his car keys.  They had opted to bring his Volvo into work, as Jim still wasn't walking very well.  "I'm going to go get us some lunch and stop by and talk with an herbalist I know. Any preferences?"

Jim shook his head, still trying to make sense of his notes. "Nah, anything will do.  Wait a minute, a herbalist?"

Slipping on his lightweight jacket, Blair nodded, "Yeah, I want to ask Autumn about what herbs can help a person to sleep, without the side effects of those over the counter sleep aids."

"Whatever.  As tired as I am now, I'll probably be able to sleep like a baby tonight."  Jim sat back and smiled tiredly up at his partner.

"Maybe.  But I'd rather make sure of it."

Blair had stopped by the loft on the way back to the station house from the herbalist's shop, not wanting to explain to Jim in the bullpen, just what he had bought. Coming back out to his car, he noticed that the owner of the Subaru was bent over next to her front left tire, cursing at the car.

"Damn you!  I cannot afford to be late to this meeting and you just have to go flat and then have nuts so damn tight it would take fifty elephants to break you loose!"

Putting on his friendliest face, Blair walked over to her. "Need some help?"

The woman jumped up to her full height, which was some three or more inches shorter than Blair, and blushed.  "Oh!  Hi.  You wouldn't happen to have an elephant or two handy would you?"

Blair noticed how pretty the woman's eyes were, how they were set in her face at just the right height to emphasize her high cheekbones. She wore hiking boots, snug, faded blue jeans, a teal-green, mock turtleneck with the sleeves pushed up to her forearms, and an oversized blue and green flannel shirt, an ensemble which showed off her attractive build.

"Flat tire?"  He came around the front end of the car to look for himself. The tire was sitting on its rim.

"Oh, yeah.  That's flat all right." Holding out his hand he greeting her formally. "Blair Sandburg, one of your neighbors."

She smiled, and shook his hand. "Alicia Andreson.  Nice to meet you."  She nodded down towards the tire. "So?  Think you could help me out here?"

"Let's see."  He knelt down and grabbed the tire iron, gave a couple of experimental tugs.   "Damn, you weren't kidding.  These nuts are rather tight aren't they?"

After a couple of minutes flew by, they had gotten the last of the nuts off the tire by working together, and were putting the new tire in place, when a cell phone chirped. "Damn, probably my boss wanting to know where I'm at." Alicia produced a slim cell phone from her back pocket and looked at her helper. "Do you mind, Blair?"

"Go ahead, I'll finish up here."  He tightened the next to the last bolt as she stepped away to take the call.  He was just finishing up the last bolt, when her raised voice caused his attention, and the tire iron, to slip and he suffered a severe gash on his knuckles on the undercarriage of the wheel well.

"No, damnit!  I'm trying, but you haven't given me much leeway." She paused. "The local authorities are looking into it, but ... Yes, I know.  Cut me some slack here.  I have never failed you before and I'm not about to start now!"

Blair sat back on his heels, holding his burning hand, listening as the conversation got stranger.

"No!  I don't need help!  I need you to let me call the damn shots!  I've been close, was really close the other night. If you hadn't called when you did, this whole matter would be resolved."

Blair pulled a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and wrapped his hand, then started to put the car back down using the jack.

"Fine.  Three more days, that's all I'm asking here.  Then you can send in the whole damn Army for all I care!"  Alicia snapped the phone shut and walked back over to her car.  "Thanks, Blair.  I really appreciate the help."  Her voice was back down to its earlier warm tone.

"No problem."  He picked up the jack and walked back to the rear of the car and the open hatchback.  Laying the jack and tire iron on the floor of the Subaru, he closed the hatch and found her right behind him, holding out his wallet.

"You must have dropped this, here."  She handed it to him.  "I couldn't help but notice, you're a cop?"

Realizing that the wallet must have opened on hitting the pavement, he smiled, "Yeah, Detective actually.  Your boss very mad?"

"Uh?"  Alicia shook her head, "No, no.  But he's turning the pressure up on me. I've got three days to get this assignment done, or he's threatening to send in the rest of the investigative unit."

Blair looked at her. "You're an investigator?"

"Insurance.  Just got assigned to the Northwest Corridor."

Not having anything else to say, he said, "Well, it was nice meeting you, Alicia. Good luck."

She shook hands with him, and noticed the bloodied handkerchief, "Oh, did that happen while I was on the phone?  I'm so sorry."

"It's nothing, really."

"You sure?  Maybe you should come up and let me help you clean that up. Infections can be so nasty."

She held his hand and lifted the temporary bandage carefully to inspect the damage.  "Ouch.  Doesn't look real bad, but it is going to bruise."  She let go of his hand and smiled. " At least promise me you'll take care of that, put some ice on it when you get back to work.  That will keep the swelling down."

Blair smiled at the concern in her eyes. "Alicia, I'll be fine, promise. In fact, I'll run upstairs right now to clean it.  You probably need to get to wherever it is you were going."

Alicia nodded. She didn't want to, but something inside her liked this man with his long hair and expressive blue eyes.  "You're right.  But, I'll be home later this evening. You have any problems with your hand, you come over to 207 and let me look at that again."

"Okay, it's a deal."

Impulsively she got up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "Great.  I'd better go now.  See you later?"  She climbed in behind the wheel of her car, started the engine and with a final wave, was gone.

"Yeah, later."  He walked back to the building and was just entering the loft when his own cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Chief, where the hell are you?"

Blair smiled as he tucked the phone under his ear, pinning it there with his shoulder, and proceeded to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.  "Home. Stopped by to drop off my herbs, met our new neighbor, helped her change a tire.  I'm heading back as soon as I get cleaned up."

Jim could hear the water running, the distance it took before hitting the sink. "Just make sure you clean up the kitchen sink when you're done.  I don't want to find car grease on my dishes."

"Already done, man."  Blair dried off his hands, giving the sink a good swipe with the towel.  "So, you still not picky about lunch?"

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem off a headache building behind his eyes.   "No.  Anything will do."

"Okay, I'll be back there in about twenty minutes."

Glancing at his watch, Jim realized that they'd have just enough time to eat before heading over to the police range.  "You still set on going through Hogan's Alley with me this afternoon?"

Still holding the phone to his ear, Blair exited the loft and walked down the stairs.  "Yeah.  We're scheduled for two-thirty, right?"

"Yes."  Jim sighed.

"You gonna make it?  You sound really beat."

Heaving another sigh, "I'll make it.  I have to.  Today's the last day I have to get requalified.  I don't make it,  I'm on administrative leave."

Reaching his car, Blair slid in behind the wheel, then leaned over to check the glove box to make sure he'd put his new firearm in there.  "Okay.  I'll let you go, so that I can get back with lunch in plenty of time."

"You do that, Junior."  Jim hung up the phone, and glared at his computer terminal, frowning when the letters typed on the screen blurred.  "Damn." Deciding that what he needed was more caffeine, he got up from his desk and went in search of either a strong cup of coffee, or a can of soda.  Which ever he ran across first wouldn't stand a chance against the bleary eyed sentinel.

Alicia drove her car onto the construction site, parked and climbed out of the Subaru, only to be greeted by a friendly security guard.

"Ma'am, this is a closed site.  You can't be here."

Smiling up at the well-built young man, she pulled her ID out of her shirt pocket.  "Yes, I can.  My company is the owner of this building and I was informed that my new office is just about finished."  She glanced at the
nametag on the man's chest. "So, McFadden, I need to get in there and make sure that the electricians set everything up according to my specs."  She handed him her ID and her business card.

McFadden looked over the ID, her company badge complete with photo, and her business card.  "Hallstatt Trust, International?  Well, okay.  I guess I can let you on site, but I'll have to escort you to your office."  He handed the badge and card back to her. "What floor is it on, Ms. Anderson?"

"Andreson.  The sixth."  She grinned at him.

He smiled back.  "Let's go talk to the site boss, grab a couple of hard hats, and I'll take you on up."

Alicia followed him to the construction trailer, which also served as the security shack. McFadden explained who she was and why she was here. The site boss, a crusty old man in his late fifties, handed her a reasonably clean hard hat and, with barely a word to her, left to go yell at a group of seven men who were dallying near the huge crane.

Taking the construction lift to the sixth floor, she noticed that the construction crew seemed to be concentrating on finalizing the seventh floor.

'Which is good, as they only have two more weeks to go before their contract expires.  Then the building will be complete. Well, almost.'  Walking to the open doorway down the hall to where her office was to be, she stepped in.

McFadden followed, whistling as he caught site of the large open space where a picture window would be installed.  The view of the bay was breath taking. "If you don't mind my saying so, that is some site.  You must be an executive for this company of yours."

Taking off the hard hat, Alicia ran her fingers through her hair.  "No, just a troubleshooter."

"Probably the best, right?"

"Maybe."  She shrugged.  Walking around the large office space, she started to take note of all the electrical outlets.  Turning back to face the security guard, she said, "Look, McFadden, I'll probably be up here all afternoon, making trips out to the car and such.  You don't have to stay with me."

"You sure?"  She nodded. "Well, then.  I'll leave you to your work.  If you don't finish up before four, just make sure you tell the guard on duty that you've left."

"I'll do that.  Thanks."  She waited until he left and she couldn't hear the lift operating any more before pulling a small computer pad out of her left back pocket.  "Okay, let's see if you did your jobs right, people."

At two-fifteen, Blair pulled up to the building on outskirts of town that housed the Cascade Police Firing Range.  Jim unfolded himself from the passenger seat and stretched, while Blair reached over and pulled his new handgun out of the glove compartment.  Holding it in his hand, he joined his partner on the sidewalk.

"What's that, Chief?"  Jim pointed at the gun that his partner was carrying. "I didn't realize that you had picked that up."

"Did it yesterday.  Alan, the owner of Cascade Rod & Field, gave the okay for me to take it out of layaway since I've paid for over half of it already. Said I could finish the payments later."  He held the gun out for his friend's
inspection.

Seeing that the clip wasn't engaged, Jim lifted the weapon out of Blair's hand and looked it over.  "A Para-Ordanance P12-.45?  Chief, not that it's not good gun, cause it is, but I thought you had decided that the department issued SIG- Sauer P220 was enough."  He handed the weapon back.

"That's what I thought, until I had a chance to squeeze off a few rounds in that puppy."  Weapon in one hand, he raked his windblown hair back with the other.

"This may sound a little 'weird' to you, but the P12-.45 felt, well, right."

Jim chuckled, "For someone who doesn't like to handle guns, you sure have gotten it hard by the 'gun-bug', Chief."

"Don't I know it.  Can you imagine Naomi's reaction when she sees my sharpshooter's badge?"  He shuddered, already hearing his mother chanting in his head. 'I'm letting this go, I'm letting this go...' "Besides, the AMT .45DAO is a nice off duty weapon, or a backup, but for duty?"

Walking around the building they approached the firing range, where the firearms instructor, Ron Gardner, met them.

"About time you got your ass in here, Ellison.  Sandburg, new toy?"  The man held his hand out to Blair, who gently placed the weapon into it. "Sweet. Good choice for you.  You going try to qualify with it today?  I'll sign off for you if you make it."  He handed the weapon back.

"Yeah, if you don't mind.  Then maybe Captain Banks will sign off and I can carry it for my duty piece."

Gardner snickered. "Ellison, watch it.  This partner of yours is aiming to take your place as the best shot on the force.  Come on back you two, let's get you loaded up and on the line."

After collecting their ammunition, safety glasses and silhouette targets, the two partners lined up on the firing line and went through the regular qualifying routine.  After three hundred rounds had gone down field, Gardner totaled up the scores and signed off on Ellison's 898, and Sandburg's 888, high enough scores to let them keep their expert and sharpshooter qualifications.  Looking up at the two of them, he smiled.

"So, Sandburg, you going to run the Alley with Ellison, or do I need to call in one of the other instructors to pair with him?"

Blair shook his head. "Nuh uh.  We're partners.  We go through Hogan's Alley together."

"Great!  The way it should be done!  Okay, head on over to the ready room and get your gear on, I'll go set up the course."  He paused, looking at the handgun that Sandburg was going to use. "You got a holster for that yet, Sandburg? No?Okay, let me go scrounge up a temporary and I'll meet you both at the starting line." He trotted off, leaving the two men alone.

"You sure, Chief?  I can always go through the Alley with one of the instructors.  They're used to me not having anyone to run the course with me." They entered the ready room where they were to put on flak jackets and other safety gear that had them looking like swat team members when they were done.

"That was before.  Now, you have me as your official partner and partners should run this course together." Pulling his hair back into a short ponytail, Blair placed the riot helmet on his head. "Besides, as tired as you are, I'm afraid you'll zone on something and I'll be stuck with the robbery case by myself."

Jim let out a hearty laugh.  "Not going to happen, I'm wide awake after hearing that rocket launcher of yours on the line."  He jerked his head to the right. "Let's go before Gardner comes looking for us."

Ron met them at the starting line, handing Blair a nylon drop holster. "Sorry about that, but that's the best I could find.  A little unorthodox, but anything is better than nothing."  He assisted the young detective in securing the drop holster to the web gear belt and strapping it to his thigh.  The P12-.45 fit the holster, barely.  But with the security strap in place, at least it wouldn't bounce out while he ran the course.

Hogan's Alley is a standard combat course.  Several scenarios are thrown at the officers running the course, never the same twice, forcing them to act and react to each situation according to the 'threat' level.  Hostage situations, barricaded subjects, and innocent bystanders popping into the line of fire made it very nerve racking, and done right, it took anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour to run the full course.  Which is what Ellison had to do, Sandburg was basically just along for the ride.  Gardner started them on the course at the
time of four p.m.

Five p.m. found the two tired and sweaty partners seated on the grass under a huge oak tree waiting for Gardner to tally up their scores. "How you feeling, Jim?"

"Worn out.  At least I didn't zone, much."

"Only twice, both times when the sun glinted off a target and caught you unawares."  Blair sipped from a water bottle, then handed it to his friend. "And you came back out of them fast."

Sipping the cool water, Jim nodded. "Guess we know for certain now.  A tired sentinel is more susceptible to the zone out factor."  He dropped his head onto his raised knees, the bottle dangling from his lax hands.

Rescuing the bottle from dropping to the ground, Blair noticed that Gardner was on his way over to them. "Jim?  Gardner's back."  He stood up, then reached an hand out to assist Jim to his feet.

Ron smiled at the sight of the smaller Sandburg helping Ellison to his feet. "Good news!  You both qualified."  Turning to Jim he added, "But, Ellison, your score dropped 20 points from your last time out.  You off your feed or something?"  Jim didn't answer, just nodded.  Shrugging, Ron turned to face Blair. "And Sandburg, you surprised me and the other instructors. We all signed off on your card, here.  Take that to Captain Banks, I'm sure he'll sign off on it for you to carry that P-12.  And if you ever tire of running about town with Major Crimes, come talk to me.  I could use another firearms instructor." Handing the coveted firearms qualification cards to the two men, Gardner shook hands and left.

Sighing, Blair tapped Jim on the arm, "Let's call it a day, guy.  I've got some Valerian and Catmint at the house if you can't get to sleep."

"Catmint?  That anything like cat nip?"  Jim didn't think he would want any of that.

"Nah, it's close though." He justified the lie by thinking that if Jim knew it was catnip, he'd never try it. "It's a mild sedative, and works wonders on relaxing the smooth muscles. Trust me, it won't, or shouldn't, do anything
other than relax you."  Blair waited until they were in the Volvo before adding, "Besides, your jaguar might like a taste."

Jim moaned, not even having the energy to whap his friend on the head in a soft cuff. "Play nice, Chief."

Webmaster: PJ Browning