Before he could formulate an answer, a curtain moved and a large woman entered.

"How's our patient?" The stranger asked in a rich voice. As she came closer, Blair saw that her skin was a dark, dark brown, her eyes liquid ebony, and her hair was a startling silver-blonde cloud around her face.

Jazz stepped back, saying "Blair, this is Sonata, our doctor. Sonata, you were right, he remembered without a problem when he woke up."

The older woman nodded and smiled down at the anthropologist. Her soft hands were deftly checking the bandage on his side, and suddenly he realized that, although he was shirtless, he was comfortably warm.

"Are we subterranean?" he asked, peering around and Sonata raised a brow.

"Very good, young man." Her hands slipped up to his head, searching among the soft dark hair for the bruising she'd examined earlier. "Your brain hasn't suffered an injury from that hard knock, it would seem. Ah, that lump has gone down nicely." Finished, she touched his cheek gently, and brushed a few stray strands of hair off his forehead. "One of my boys had those pretty curls, too." Sonata said softly, and Blair saw that she was older than he had believed.

"Jazz, he needs to drink a lot of fluids, juice, herbal tea, water. Nothing with caffeine. I want you to sleep, Blair. It will heal you faster than anything I can do. We have some painkillers, but I'd prefer not to give you anything stronger than aspirin, if you can sleep without it."

His ears had perked up at 'herbal teas'. "Do you have willowbark tea? I'd just as soon have that as aspirin."

The doctor gazed at him thoughtfully, and, he thought, approvingly, for a long minute. "We have willowbark available. I'll send you a cup of it when it's ready. Are you an herbalist?"

"I'm an anthropologist, and a grad student at the U, and, oh MAN! How long have I been here?" Blair tried to sit up in his panic and nearly passed out. His face had gone chalk white as Jazz helped him ease back toward the quilted pillows.

She looked over at Sonata, worried, but the older woman calmly recrossed the room and took his wrist in her strong fingers. She counted silently, and nodded to herself, then smiled at Jazz. "He'll be fine. I'll get that tea." And she left the room.

Jazz turned back to their guest. "Blair, what is it? Your family?"

He nodded. "My roommate. My partner. I'm a consultant for the Cascade Police Department and my partner's gonna be frantic."

"A cop?" Jazz caught her lower lip in her teeth, thinking. "Maybe I could call him for you. Let him know that you're okay. Would that help?"

Blair sighed deeply, wincing as it hurt his side. "A little. He's still going to freak, Jim has some major protective issues, but if you give him a message he'll know is from me...His business card is in my wallet, if you can give me my backpack."

Jazz examined the thin white card with it's stark printing. "James Ellison, Detective. Major Crimes Unit." She took a last look around through the scarred acrylic walls of the pay-phone booth, shivered, then resolutely took the receiver off the hook and dropped coins into the slot. One cold finger punched in the number, a woman answered for the Cascade Police department in a pleasant voice, and Jazz asked for Detective James Ellison. A moment of music, and then "Ellison." She couldn't speak.

"Detective Ellison. Hello?" The male voice barked.

"Um, hi, detective." Jazz's voice wavered and she took a deep breath. "I'm calling for a friend of mine, of yours, really. His name is Blair Sandburg?"

Something slammed down hard on the other end of the phone. "Sandburg? Where is he?"

"He's okay, really, he's fine. There was this..a kind of fight and he got involved. He got hurt, but he's gonna be okay. We just didn't have time to get him to a regular doctor.."

"Where is he?!" Jim's stern voice rose and Jazz faltered, almost hanging up.

Normally she avoided cops like the plague, especially angry cops. Steeling herself, she answered, "He's safe. He's in a safe place, with a good doctor and people watching out for him."

The soft voice quavered and Jim forced his anger and the fear for his Guide's well being down. If the woman hung up, he'd lose his only lead. "A doctor is taking care of him?" he asked carefully. "How badly hurt is he?"

"He sort of...got stabbed, but the guy fell on him, the knife caught him, Blair I mean, in the side. It was bleeding pretty badly, so we had to get him help fast. But, I swear, as soon as he can be moved, we'll bring him where ever he wants to go."

"Miss, who is 'we'?"

The same question Blair had asked, but Jazz didn't trust this cop nearly as much as her instincts told her to trust the grad student. "My family and I. That's all. Look, I told Blair I'd call because he was worried about you being worried about him. He gave me this goofy message for you, okay? He says he wants tongue for supper his first night back.." And Jazz made a face at the receiver.

Jim felt a small knot of worry loosen inside him. Okay, Sandburg WAS alive. But, her Family? Like a cult?"

"I appreciate you calling, Miss, I really do, but I'd feel better if I could check up on Sandburg myself. If he can't be moved, that's all right, I'll come to wherever you are. I won't be armed or anything,"

Jazz bit her lip. "I'm really sorry, sir, but..I can't. It's not a bad place, but it IS a secret, and people are counting on me, on us..I probably shouldn't have called. They're gonna be so pissed at me..We'll take good care of your friend, and I'll personally make sure he gets back to where he wants to go when he's feeling okay. I have to go now.."

"WAIT!" Jim shouted, hearing the finality in her voice, and desperately added, "Wait, please. Will you call back? Can I have your name, so they can put you through right away?"

The street girl surprised herself then. "I'll call back." She promised faintly. The guy sounded frantic, and Blair wouldn't want that. It sounded like they were pretty good friends. "I promise." and she hung up. Her fingerless gloves wiped the hard plastic free of any prints that might have lingered, just in case they had managed to trace the call. She did NOT trust cops, and this one probably thought she was some loon who had kidnapped his partner. Still, when she opened the door, it was another unseasonably beautiful day, and Jazz didn't let trouble fester in her mind. With a whirl to watch her patchworked skirt flare out over her knitted leggings and scuffed boots, she ran off to find some of the other street musicians. It was early yet, plenty of time to make some music and a few bucks before dark.

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