Blair was definitely feeling better by the next morning, getting up with Sonata's help and moving around the little room, taking care of his own personal needs. For the first time, he went past the curtain and discovered that the next room was large, with a few smaller rooms like his branching off of it. The interior looked like a space age room, all stainless steel except for the concrete floor. A big pot of stew sat almost constantly on the back burner of the stove, it smelled wonderful as he sat at the long table and sipped the mint tea Hush had brewed.

Her four year old twins were playing with battered dolls on a braided rag rug, their small yellow heads bent close to each other, and Hush was sewing at the other end of the table. She didn't speak at all, except when she had offered him the tea in a whisper, but her gentle smile was warm and friendly. Fascinated, he watched as a small shirt took shape in her skilled hands, one straight seam after another.

When Charlie came in from one of the recesses, she smelled like sunshine and wind, and a leaf was caught on her long white braid. She went immediately to the stove and warmed her thin hands at the burner in use , then poured her own tea and added a generous dollop of honey to it. Carefully stepping around the little "house" the twins were creating, she sat down next to Blair and spoke to him in her honest, unvarnished manner. "I think the warm weather be aheadin' out, these next few days, Best be thinking on getting you back, don't want you getting sick from being hurt and drenched in that cold rain we get."

"If Sonata will agree, I think so too." Jazz said from the entrance of another room. "We can't wait much longer, Blair."

He nodded, and Charlie smiled her gap toothed grin at him. "Sounds more harsh-like than we mean it, boy. Yer welcome, an' we don't regret you being here one bit. I'll miss seeing ya in there, an' talking with ya, but you got other people missin' ya too."

Putting his cup aside, and moving slowly because of his wound, Blair hugged the elderly woman, which pleased her greatly. He could tell, because she stood up and ruffled his hair, then headed back out without a word. In only a few days, he had learned that Charlie disliked sentiment, and had no patience with obfuscation of any kind. She was very much an Elder in her family.

"We'll need to arrange a meeting place with your friend, because Sonata's going to want you to go to a doctor first thing. I don't want you to have to walk too far, if Jim can pick you up." She Jazz groaned. "Which means I'll have to call him again. I don't know if I can do it." And she leaned against the table in exaggerated distress.

Blair got a mischievious glint in his eye. "Call him at home. He won't be expecting that."

"You think?"

"Jim really is Mr. Routine. If you've been calling him at work, I'll bet he won't have bothered to set up a home tap. Even if he has.."

"I won't be on long enough for it to matter." She gave him a speculative look. "You're helping me catch him off guard."

Blair shrugged eloquently. "It's good for him. And, I feel like I need to watch out for you too."

"You're a good friend, Blair Sandburg. I hope Jim Ellison appreciates you."

"After this? I'll bet the House Rules are relaxed for a month." Blair realized as he said it that, as charming as these people were, he wanted to be back at the loft. He wanted to be back with Jim. To go home.

"Great. We'll get Sonata to give the okay, call your partner with the plan, and get you the hell out of here." and the pair shook hands solemnly. Then Jazz helped him back to his couch.

Jim sat alone in the loft, staring at a ball game he wasn't watching and holding a beer that had gone warm in the bottle. Simon had ordered him home, or at least out of the squadroom, for at least twenty-four hours. When the phone rang, it took four rings for him to answer it.

"Yeah, Ellison."

"Detective, this is Jenn."

Jim sat up straight on the couch, phone clamped to his ear. "Jenn?"

"Detective...Jim. We need a truce here. Sonata is willing to let us move Blair, but not too far. He wants to get back to his life, and we want to help him do that."

"I'm listening."

"Okay, then." He heard her take a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Blair says that he'd trust you with his life. He's asking me to trust you with mine. Please...tomorrow evening, seven p.m. Do you know where Martin's cafe is? "

Jim nodded, then smiled to himself as he answered, "Martin's with the outside patio?"

"That's the one. We'll meet you there, Blair and I. Please come alone." She hesitated a minute."I KNOW you're going to set a trap, call the other members of your team and have them waiting to arrest me. Blair says that you won't. He can't walk there by himself, Jim. One of us has to be there." And then she sighed. "So I guess it will be me. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

"Jenn, wait!" He wanted to respond to the lack of hope in her voice, to the fear he heard underneath it, but words had never been his strength. Still, he tried to put it all into his voice. "Thank you."

"For helping him?"

"For not leaving me hanging, even after the traced call."

"What can I say, Detective? I'm too nice for my own good."

And the connection broke, was replaced by a buzzing sound. Jim punched the off button decisively, and tossed the phone onto the couch. He had plans to make.

Jazz returned to find the whole family gathered in the large outer room, lamps and candles burning all around. The twins were drowsing in Sonata's and their mother's laps, and BeBop was playing Bach on his guitar. Blair was sitting behind the long table, his eyes dark blue in the dim light, tiny echoes of flame shining gold in them. The triplets rippled from the street man's flashing fingers on the strings, and Blair was nodding in time to the music, a dreamy smile on his face.

With a smile of her own, Jazz slipped her recorder free of the loop on her braided belt and came in with the melody of the piece being played. She stood in the doorway and the soft piping slid along the waves of sound. When they had finished, Retro took over the guitar, and Hush handed Allegra to Jazz, took up her flute. Charlie told a handful of tall tales when they were tired, and Sonata spelled her with poetry, some recited from memory, some read aloud from a well thumbed volume.

Blair shook his head when Sonata paused. "I wish...I can't sing outside of the shower, and I don't play anything but drums. I know a couple of chants, I picked them up when I was on a study on Borneo. There's this village, where.." The others encouraged him with questions, and the anthropologist found himself contributing after all. Not with chants, but with the stories of his travels, the stories of the people he had met. Great respect and humour touched his tales, and he told them with endearing charm and enthusiasm. His listeners were fascinated, and it was late before they ended the evening and went to bed.

Blair was relieved when they finally stood in a vacant lot, back out in the fresh air. The sun was just setting, and even the overgrown weeds had a richness to them as he looked around, his wound on fire.

Sonata was checking the bandages, shaking her head over the fresh blood seeping through. "You tore this open again, climbing the ladder. You should have let the boys carry you, Blair. Your friend is to take you to a hospital first thing. Do you understand me?"

Blair had NOT wanted to be carried up the escape hatch ladder of the abandoned bomb shelter, and he didn't want to delay his return. "I promise, right to the doctor." And he leaned forward, carefully hugged the older woman. "I don't know how to thank you, Sonata. You saved my life."

"You go on, child. You live your life, and you take care of your family. That's all the thanks anyone needs." She pushed the dark curls off his face for the last time. "Go on now."

"Jazz, I'll take him back." BeBop, then Retro stepped forward. She frowned. "Don't be stupid. He's already seen me, and I don't think I have any current warrants out on me. Just because I'm a damn fool, I don't want you guys to be fools too. We're going."

Blair shook hands with BeBop and Retro, and Cha Cha kissed his cheek, then rubbed her scarlet lipstick off his skin with her thumb. Jazz stood waiting, and when he turned to go, he leaned heavily on her, his arm around her waist. He took a deep breath, and she grinned at him.

"You ready?" She asked, and he nodded.

"Not too fast, okay?"

"No problem. I'm not looking forward to this myself."

Jim heard Blair before he saw him come around the corner in the fast falling twilight. He felt his Guide heading toward him, heard his heartbeat, and he was on his feet and moving toward Blair on pure instinct.

Sandburg looked good. He was clean, wearing an unfamiliar sweatshirt and his own jeans. He was obviously in pain as he moved slowly down the sidewalk, the slight figure beside him supporting his weight. But the big, open smile on his face was pure Blair. "Jim!"

"Chief." And the older man was there, his hands skimming over his partner's face and head, his shoulders, stopping at the bandage that smelled of fresh blood. He couldn't stop the grin that stretched across his own face when Blair grasped both of his forearms in a familiar "hey man, slow down" gesture.

"You gonna be okay from here, Blair?" Jazz asked her question quietly, observing the reunion with a smile of her own. There was love here, and commitment, and the kind of trust she only had with her own family. It was good to see.

Both men looked at her, and she met Jim's gaze squarely. "I kept my word, Jim. Our doctor told me to tell you, he needs to go to the hospital tonight. You don't want to risk any kind of infection on this sort of hurt."

"Jazz..." The young man and woman stared at each other for a long minute, then leaned in for a long embrace. "I.."

"Me too, Blair. I'll see you around." and her gray eyes flashed a question at Jim. To her surprise, and Blair's, the big man gently put an arm around her shoulders. He couldn't give her a proper hug without letting go of his Guide, and he had no intention of doing that. Still, a two armed hug might not have been as appropriate as the light embrace he gave her.

"Thank you, Jenn." The detective's voice was soft, and she responded with a smile of her own, a real smile.

"I'll see you around too, Jim."

Jim shifted Blair's weight onto his own shoulders, and she was gone, fading into the twilight.

A month later, Jim and Blair pulled up in front of St Anne's church. The Guide was almost back to normal, and his Sentinel was just starting to let up on his hovering protective stance.

"A bomb shelter, Chief? Under a church?"

"They don't know it's there anymore. Jazz told me that it was bricked up and behind plaster on the church side. There's an old bolt hole that they use to get in." He stared up at the stately old building. "I haven't seen any of them on the quad, Jim. Do you think they're still there?"

"I think they trusted you, Chief. They may be a bit less visible for a while, but they're there. I've got a good feeling about it."

And Jim pulled back out into traffic, and they went home.

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