Tugging his gloves on, he crouched in the bushes, patiently waiting for the signal. He quickly ran through his mental checklist, assuring himself he had all the items he would need to complete his mission. His blue eyes took in every detail of his surroundings, making sure nothing had changed in the ten minutes he had been waiting. He heard a door to the darkened building open, and a figure stepped outside. A match flared in the post midnight blackness, briefly illuminating the guard's face. Once the match sputtered out, only the faint red glow from the end of his cigarette betrayed his presence.

Damn. The microphone in his ear came to life. "Okay, babe, taking control of security cams in three, two, one. We have control."

"Drea, I've got problems," he answered. "Asshole's taking a smoke break at my entrance. Standing down until further notice."

"Roger that."

There was silence between the partners for five long minutes. Finally the guard flipped his butt into the night and re-entered the museum. "Give me a couple to make sure he's gone, then tell me when. . ." He counted the seconds down silently.

"All clear, go for it, babe."

He ran across the lawn in a low crouch, his dark clothing easily blending with the shadows as he made it to the building's wall. His pick and sensitive touch made quick work of the lock on the alarm cover. Pulling a couple of alligator leads from his belt pouch, he jumped the proper connections, then slid the cover closed. "Alarm's bypassed. Heading in."

"Enter on my command. Setting off gas canisters now."

He slipped around the side of the museum and into the doorway, picking the lock as he waited for the go ahead. His partner's confident voice came through his earpiece again. "Guards are down. Think you can make it in under ten?" she teased.

"I'm not trying to beat your record," he answered back, slipping a small gas mask over his nose and mouth. "Entering perimeter." Cracking the door open, he eased inside. He took a few seconds to reacquaint himself with the familiar layout of the building, then headed directly for the room he wanted, the display of Chinitez relics.

Entering the darkened room, he began to cross to the dimly lit display case. So intent was he on the prize, a priceless gold and turquoise ceremonial mask, that he never noticed the body on the floor. Snagging his toe on the unconscious man's leg, he pitched over the body onto his hands and knees. "Shit!"

"Problem?"

"Don't know, I just tripped over something. . . somebody. . . I have a bad feeling about this." He leaned over the man, his penlight illuminating his face. Recognition was a fist in the gut. "Oh, damn it. . . " he breathed.

Drea's voice was anxious. "What is it, babe?"

"Jim, oh my god, it's Jim."

"Get a hold of yourself. We knew this was a possibility; let it go, complete the mission."

Drawing in a shuddering breath, he said, "The mission, yeah, the mission. . . " He had started to rise when a choking sound from the man on the floor stopped him. Bending down again, he could hear the sentinel's labored breathing. "Oh, shit. . . shit! Drea! He's having a reaction to the gas; he can't breathe! I've got to . . . " God, what should he do, what could he do?

The voice in his ear was gentle, yet commanding. "Abort, babe, abort. Can you get him outside?"

Grabbing the tall man by the ankles, he started to drag him toward the exit he'd come in. "Yeah, yeah, heading for the exit now."

"I'm coming to get you."

"No, no, Drea, stay put, I'll let you know if I need you." Pushing the door open with his back, he hauled the cop out onto the sidewalk. "Come on, man, don't do this to me. Breathe, damn you!"

His curses were rewarded by a cough from the other man, who then moaned, and tried to sit up. "Take it easy, Jim, take some slow deep breaths for me. In for three, and out for three. . . "

Jim Ellison's head was pounding, his lungs were on fire, his throat raw . . . and for not the first time in a year, he was imagining his guide's voice. Forcing his eyes open, he found himself staring into a familiar face, bearded now, the hair hidden under a dark cap, and the face blackened, but the eyes were the ones he saw in his dreams. "Blair?" This couldn't be happening.

The younger man rocked back on his heels, muscles tensing for the dash to the van. "Gotta go, man." He started to rise, and the sentinel grabbed his arm. Panicking, Blair tried to pull away.

"Let him go, Detective." Drea, god, Drea, why couldn't you stay in the truck?

Jim knew that voice, heard it every time he closed his eyes, she was his only nightmare. In one swift move, he pulled his gun and fired in the direction of her voice.

"Nooooo!" his guide's scream ripped through his skull, as his fist slammed into his face. Everything went black.

Shaking off the cop's now limp grasp, Blair sprinted across the grass, dropping to his knees beside the crumpled form of his partner. "Drea, honey, Drea, can you hear me?"

"Chest hurts. . . babe. . . help me. . . " Her frightened blue eyes looked up at him. "It's bad, Blair, it's bad . . . oh!" Gasping, she clutched at her swollen abdomen. "No, no, not now . . ."

Holding on to his love with one hand, Blair yanked out his cell phone, pressed 9-1-1 and send. "Operator, I need an ambulance at the back of Rainier University Museum of Anthropology. I have a pregnant woman down with a gunshot wound to the chest . . ." Tucking the phone between his head and shoulder he put both hands over the heavily bleeding wound. "Hurry, please, hurry . . ."

Rainier Campus
Hargrove Hall
One year ago

Blair sat at his desk waiting. He would come, he knew he would. What they had was too important for Jim not to get past the pain Blair had caused him. Not telling Jim about Alex right away had been wrong, he knew now. But how was he to know she was a criminal? He'd only been trying to help her. He looked up as his office door opened. "Alex . . ."

She stood there for a moment, a gun in her hand, her expression unreadable. Finally she pointed it at him, and his hands automatically came up in a show of compliance. "If it hadn't been for you, I never would have understood what I really am. I owe you that . . ." She paused, then continued, "You wanna know how I really got the sentinel senses? Solitary confinement in prison. Thought I was going crazy. It wasn't until I met you, I realized what I'd become . . ." Her voice was sad, almost resigned.

"And look how you used this gift . . . what a waste." he breathed, not knowing what else to say, how to sway her from whatever decision she'd made.

A look of determination crossed her face, but her voice was filled with soft regret. "This is the one thing I really didn't want to do, but I can't leave you alive." Pulling back the slide on the gun, she chambered a cartridge. "Come on, Blair, get up."

He rose to his feet shakily, his heart in his throat making it difficult to breathe. "Alex . . ." he began as he walked past her into the hallway.

"Just shut up, okay?" She marched him down the corridor, gun shoved tight against his back. Up the stairs and out of the building they went, across the drive to the fountain.

The anthropologist came to a halt, his knees against the low wall surrounding the pool, his back to her. For a long moment, he waited, feeling her presence behind him, yet she made no move to kill him. "Oh, come on, Alex, if you're gonna shoot me, shoot me already!"

Her hand darted up to grasp the back of his neck, shoving him forward, into the water. He struggled as his face went under, but her grip was too strong, and he couldn't break free. Just as Blair felt like his lungs were going to explode, he was yanked out of the water by his hair. Coughing and gagging, he leaned against the low stone bench for support, feeling the hold on his head turn into a half caress. When he finally looked to the side, he found Alex kneeling next to him, her eyes wet with tears and full of pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . .I shouldn't have, I don't know what I was thinking . . ." She stood, gesturing with the ever-present gun. "Get up, Blair."

He was so damn tired of all this being jerked back and forth between one sentinel and the other. "Please, Alex, please, just kill me, okay? I can't take much more of this shit . . ."

Shaking her head, she grabbed him under the arm and lifted him off the ground. "Come on, Blair, we have to get out of here!" Hauling him across the parking lot to her car, she shoved him in the passenger side and forced him to slide across the seat until he was behind the wheel. Tossing the keys at him, she commanded, "Drive!"

He shook his head, droplets of water pelting them both. "Alex, it's over. Give yourself up, give back the nerve gas."

"I can't! Damn you, just drive!" She poked him with the gun, and he reluctantly stuck the keys in the ignition, and started the engine. Putting the car into drive, he pulled out of the parking lot just as the first rays of dawn were beginning to peek over the horizon.

The '69 blue and white Ford pickup slid to a halt in front of Hargrove Hall, several police cars right behind it. Jim leapt out of the truck, and was dashing up the steps to the building, when something poked at his subconscious. Turn around, it said, and he followed the order, but saw only a peaceful fountain bubbling away merrily, the rising sun glittering on its surface. Shrugging off the feeling of déjà vu, he entered the building, followed by most of Major Crimes. Clattering down the stairs to his partner's office, he called out, "Sandburg!" There was no answer.

Flinging the door to the office open, he found nothing out of the ordinary. No signs of a struggle, no papers out of place, the chair pushed back from the desk slightly, as if the anthropologist had just gotten up. Yet there was something, not something he could see or hear but . . . .Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly, separating the individual scents in the room. Dust, mold, books, wood, leather, stale coffee, Blair, fear . . . . His eyes snapped open and he gasped. Whose fear? Blair's, his mind immediately answered. Fear of what? He concentrated again, finding underneath the layers of everyday living the musky odor he'd come to associate with Alex, and the familiar mixture of gun oil and sulfur.

The vision hit him like the head rush one got when standing up too quickly. Alex, in the office, pointing a gun at his partner shifted violently to Blair's terrified expression as his head was held under water. Shaking off the images, Ellison pushed past his captain and Connor and raced up the stairs. Plunging through the door, he stood once again in the sunshine of what promised to be a beautiful day in Cascade.

Slowly he crossed the driveway to the fountain, looking for a sign, a clue, anything that might prove or disprove his vision. Reaching the edge of the fountain, Jim looked down into the shallow water. Amid the jumble of coins and leafy debris, a silver ring winked at him. Scooping it out with his fingers, he examined it, immediately recognizing it as one of Blair's earrings. He had been here; he had been in the water. But where was he now? And was he still alive?

"Where to?" Blair asked, as he pulled out into the suburbs surrounding Rainier's campus.

Alex stared at him for a moment, then said, "You're wet."

"Um, yeah, from the little impromptu swim I took in the fountain, remember?"

She rubbed her brow. Her head hurt. "Where's your stuff?"

"My what?"

"Your stuff. You said your roommate kicked you out and you were staying at a hotel. What hotel?" At his blank expression she leaned over him, checking his pockets.

"Hey, whoa, ow. I'm trying to drive, Alex!"

She sat back up, her efforts rewarded with one hotel key and a pocketknife. She tossed the knife up in the air and caught it. "Naughty, naughty. You were holding out on me. But I'll over look it this time." Dangling the key in front of his nose, she said, "Drive. Here."

Fifteen minutes later, Blair parked outside room 17 at the Friendship Inn. Alex gazed up at the sign thoughtfully. "Were you hoping it would bring you luck?" she finally asked softly. His grip on the steering wheel tightened enough to turn his knuckles white, but he remained silent. Opening the door, she climbed out of the car. "Come on, out this side. Don't want you to get any ideas about running away."

Dutifully he slid over and out. She handed him the key and he unlocked the door, flipping on the lights. She forced him to enter in front of her. "Sit down on the bed, on your hands. Thank you," she said as he complied. Opening the door to the bathroom, Alex peered inside the small, windowless room. "Okay, go get dried off and put some other clothes on. Then gather all your stuff up." Crossing back to the room's only exit, she leaned against the door, folding her arms over her chest, the gun held loosely in her left hand.

Grabbing a change of clothes from his duffle bag, Blair entered the bathroom, closing the door partway behind him. Stripping out of his soaked jacket, shirt and jeans, he toweled off rapidly and redressed, wondering the whole time what in the hell Alex was thinking. She didn't need a hostage, and he would only slow her down. He grinned at himself in the mirror, yep, that was an idea. Maybe he could stall long enough for Jim to get here. Only Jim didn't know there was anything wrong. Jim just wanted Blair's sorry ass out of his life. Turning on the faucet, he splashed water on his face, feeling the stinging behind his eyelids ease a little.

"Come on, Blair, we don't have all day." Grabbing his toiletry things from the counter, he re-entered the bedroom and dumped them in his bag. "Call the front desk." She pointed at the phone. "Tell them you're checking out."

He did as he was told, then picked up his bag and left the hotel room in front of her, then turned to shut the door. They crossed the few steps to the car, and his stuff was thrown into the backseat. Once again, he got in the passenger side of the car and slid across into the driver's seat. Alex climbed in a few seconds later, having retrieved something from her bag on the floor of the rear seat. She handed him the keys, which he stuck in the ignition, then Blair put both hands back on the wheel in plain sight.

Snik-snik. Alex straightened back up and tucked her gun into the glovebox. "There, that should be a little easier on both of us, hmm?"

Blair glanced down at the handcuffs connecting his wrist to the steering wheel, fear doing a clog dance in his stomach. "Well, come on, start the car. We've got a long drive ahead of us. Head for the interstate." After a moment's brief hesitation, when nothing vaguely resembling an escape plan came to mind, Blair turned the car on and pulled out of the parking lot.

Simon Banks watched anxiously as his best friend went over the cheap hotel room with his senses. He kept his eyes on Jim, but his ears were listening intently to the questions Connor was asking the night manager.

"About what time did Mr. Sandburg return last night?"

The man took the noxious cigar out of his mouth and gestured with it. "Didn't come back last night."

Megan cocked an eyebrow at him. "Then who took Mr. Sandburg's things?"

"He did, when he checked out this morning." The cigar went back in his mouth, and he puffed smoke in the Inspector's direction.

Sighing, Megan tried again. "And what time, this morning, was that?"

"I'd say 'bout 5:30, give or take 15 minutes. Didn't bring the key up to the desk, just called from his room, said he was checking out, and to leave the charge on his credit card."

She waved a cloud of smoke away. "Was he alone, do you know? Anyone with him? What kind of car did he leave in?"

The manager scratched the fringe of hair covering his scalp. "I looked out when I heard a car start up. It was Mr. Sandburg in one of those big trucks everyone's driving nowadays. There was a blond lady with him."

Finally! Megan pulled out the mug shot of Alex Barnes. "Could this be the woman you saw?"

"Yep, that's her." Megan continued to question the man as Simon went inside to share the bad news with Jim. He found him in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"The manager says Alex was with Sandburg."

Drawing in a long, shuddering breath, Jim slowly turned his head to meet his captain's eyes. "I didn't even know where he was staying. If Blair hadn't given you the name and address of this place, we'd still be trying to find it. And even with that info, we were too late!" He swept his hand across the countertop, knocking the cellophane wrapped plastic drinking cups to the floor. "Damn it, Simon, this is all my fault!"

"Jim, you had no idea she would go after Sandburg . . . " Simon began.

"That's just it, Simon, I did know, I just didn't recognize what I was seeing." He swore again. "Shit, that whole thing at the foundry was a setup, to draw me out, to kill me so she could take Blair. When that didn't work, she took him anyway."

"To help her with her senses?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't know, I don't know. Maybe, or maybe she just thinks he knows too much about her and wants to get rid of him. . . "

Connor appeared behind Captain Banks. "Sir, the manager says they turned right when they left the parking lot. They could be headed to the airport."

"Or the freeway, or the docks, or to Canada . . . Airport security is already on the lookout for them." Simon's radio crackled. "Jim, I've got to take this. You gonna be okay here?"

Jim nodded, and Connor and Simon walked outside the hotel room. Taking a seat on the side of the tub, Jim leaned his head in his hands. "God, Blair, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . ." He looked down at the plastic cup on the floor, the hotel's logo taunting him. 'Friendship Inn, the Friendly Place to Stay in Cascade'. "Some kind of friend I've been to you, huh, Blair . . ." Grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes, he stood up and headed outside to go over the manager's story one more time.

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