DISCLAIMER: The Sentinel and its characters are the property of Paramount Television and Pet Fly Productions. No money has been or will be made from this work of fiction. This story belongs to the author. Permission is given to archive.

RATING: G

THANKS TO: The many friends, fans and writers in the Sentinel universe for friendship and inspiration. Special thanks to Barb, as always, for beta reading and all the rest.

This story was originally created as a February themefic for the Sentinelangst List. This one's for Mackie. Spoilers for Blind Man's Bluff.

Feedback is always welcome.

"Jim…Jim…yo, earth to Jim. The light's green already."

Jim shook his head and stepped on the gas, and pulled away slowly from the traffic light.

"Got it, Chief."

"Look, are you sure you don't want me to drive? You really look beat, and that's the second light that you practically zoned on."

"I'm fine," Jim said irritably. "Give it a rest."

Blair shook his head in disgust but said nothing else, looking out of the window in silence as the sun began to rise over the city of Cascade.

Jim yawned hugely and tried to focus on staying awake long enough to get them home. They had just finished their third straight night on an unsuccessful stakeout, the seventh night out of the last two weeks, and both were exhausted. Blair had been practicing his uncanny ability to fall asleep almost immediately and to make the most of his "power naps" as he called them. Even though Blair had encouraged him to do the same, Jim had never been able to quickly fall asleep the same way and awaken refreshed after such a short nap. Since nothing had been happening on the stakeout, he had let Blair sleep.

Now he was fighting to stay awake as they approached the old warehouse district on the way home. They had been there the previous week for several nights of stakeouts, until their suspect, Bruce Standis, had threatened harassment charges against the department. Standis had a legitimate chemicals business, but was suspected of obtaining chemical weapons from anyone who could make or steal them, and then selling them to terrorists and third world countries as offensive weapons.

He was also suspected of illegally purchasing a number of controlled substances that he had his chemists make into the newest designer drug on the streets of Cascade. It was referred to as "G2," considered to be the next generation of the drug "Golden" that had already swept through the area, only more potent and addictive. There had already been numerous episodes of violence, suicide, and overdose attributed to the drug. Unfortunately, Standis was quite wealthy and had powerful connections, as well as numerous properties all around the city. Hundreds of man-hours had been spent trying to nail him on either or both of his illegal activities, but Cascade PD had been unable to prove anything significant.

Even after the official end of the stakeouts at Standis' properties in the old warehouse district, the detectives of Major Crimes continued informal surveillance of the area. Every one in the department remembered their close and frightening encounters with the drug Golden, when Jim had been blinded by the drug and Blair had been deliberately overdosed with the drug by a dealer, almost costing him his life. There had been little discussion, but each of the detectives took to routinely driving through the area at every opportunity, watching for any suspicious activity. Numerous "anonymous tips" of possible criminal activity in the area were promptly responded to in hopes of spotting anything that would warrant a re-opening of the case.

Now, as they approached the old warehouse district on their way home, even though it was out of their way, Jim glanced over surreptitiously to his partner. Blair was gazing out of the window, seemingly lost in thought. After their exposures to Golden, once Jim had regained his vision and Blair had recovered from the overdose, Jim had tried to get Blair to talk with him about his experience. Blair had said little. He had claimed that he really didn't remember much. But Jim could see the haunted look in his eyes whenever they discussed or were reminded of the case, and it only served to strengthen Jim's resolve to catch Standis and get the new drug off of the streets.

Of course, Jim didn't need much added motivation. His own memories of their experiences with Golden were all too vivid. He remembered his own fear of being permanently blinded, and the terror that he had felt when it was discovered that Blair was dosed, hallucinating and shooting his backup weapon wildly around the Cascade PD garage. He remembered the terror that he had heard in Blair's voice and the panic that he had felt as Blair collapsed in his arms. He remembered waiting helplessly at Blair's bedside, listening to the regular hiss of the respirator keeping him alive, hoping that his best friend would recover, not knowing if he would survive and whether he would be brain-damaged if he did.

He shook his head wearily and focused on the road ahead of them. The south entrance to the old warehouse complex was several blocks ahead, and he extended his vision without thinking to see if anything was happening there. Just as he was about to look away, he thought that he saw a white van with green and blue lettering and trim pulling out into the street. He quickly refocused his vision, but his line of sight was quickly blocked by a tractor trailer that pulled in between them. Jim sat up straighter, a sudden adrenaline rush bringing him to a higher level of alertness.

"Hey, Chief, did you see that?"

"What?"

"Up ahead, that van that was pulling out of the warehouse complex."

Blair looked ahead and then looked back at Jim. "Jim, that's probably ten blocks ahead! No way, man. What did you see?"

"I could have sworn that I saw one of Standis' vans pulling out. You know, white with green and blue."

"Did you really see it, or are you telling me to call in another "anonymous" report of possible suspicious activity in the area?"

"No, I really saw it. At least I think I did." Jim nodded his assurance.

"So are we gonna check it out?" Blair sat up, suddenly wide awake as well.

"You got it."

They traveled silently forward, turning in at the entrance to the warehouse complex. There was no sign of activity, just the usual littered streets, parking lots and loading docks spread throughout the deteriorating buildings. Driving in and parking in front of a building in the middle of the block, Jim turned off the engine.

"Now what, Jim? Are we gonna call it in, call for backup?"

Jim thought for a long minute, looking and listening for any sign of activity.

"I don't want to call it in, we're already pushing it with the "anonymous" calls and I'm afraid that Simon will catch wind of it and order us to leave. I think I'll just call Rafe and Brown and fill them in, just to make sure that nobody else drops in while we're taking a look around."

Pulling his cellular phone out of his pocket, he dialed and reached Rafe on his own cellular.

"Hey, Rafe. Ellison here. Sandburg and I just spotted one of Standis' vans leaving the warehouse complex on Lincoln, we're gonna check it out. Keep an ear open and make sure that we don't get any official visitors while we're here, all right?" He smiled as he heard Rafe's reply. "Don't worry, if we find anything you'll be the first to know. Talk to you later." He disconnected and reached for the door handle. "Let's go, Chief."

---------------

Blair climbed out of the truck and closed the door softly behind him. He walked up and joined Jim standing in front of the truck, looking around.

"Well, what do you think? Can you tell which building he came from?"

"Give me a minute here."

He watched as Jim scanned the surrounding buildings. After only a few moments, he began rubbing his temple as if he had a headache, which was no surprise to Blair. Their recent schedule had been heavy, and he knew that Jim had been getting much less sleep than he had. It was beginning to show in the dark circles growing under Jim's eyes, the lack of energy in his step, the slight slouch that was appearing in his posture. He was fairly sure that it was affecting his senses, too, it seemed to take him more time and effort to use and control them.

He gave him a few moments and asked again. "Anything?"

Jim sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "There's something, but I can't seem to focus on it."

"OK, let me think for a minute." Blair paced for a moment as he thought. "OK, what about using your sense of smell. It seems to be pretty calm, I don't feel any breeze, maybe you could smell the exhaust trail from the van and track it back to the building he was near."

"Smell? This whole place smells like mold, mildew and rotting wood. I can hardly breathe." Jim punctuated his comment with a sneeze.

"Come on, Jim. Sort it out and eliminate the other smells one by one. You can do this, man, just concentrate."

With an exasperated look, Jim turned towards the intersection nearest them and closed his eyes. He tilted his head back and forth a couple of times before a thin smile appeared on his face and he opened his eyes.

"I got something. This way."

Jim slowly led the way down the street between the rows of buildings, stopping every few feet to sniff the air and look down at the street for any lingering trace of a vehicle's passage. They made a few turns to the left and right, and made a couple of false starts, before he finally stopped and threw up his hands.

"That's it. End of the line. I don't smell it any more from here."

Blair walked up and patted him on the back. "That's great, man. We came a long way. It's a start. Now we just need to check out these buildings and see what we can find." He looked sideways at Jim as he began rubbing his temples, his brow furrowed and his face a little pale. "Are you all right, Jim? Another headache?"

"Yeah. It'll be all right, though. Just as soon as we nail this guy, we'll celebrate with a couple of days off."

"Sounds like a plan, I'm game."

They turned towards the closest building and began to search around its perimeter. Finding an opening through a boarded up window, they entered and looked around. Other than signs that vagrants had also found the way into the building and had likely been staying there, they found nothing significant.

Blair became more concerned about his partner, as Jim began sneezing and the furrow in his brow became deeper. He noticed that he looked even paler as he stumbled over some loose debris on the floor. Blair walked over and grasped his arm.

"Hey, Jim, you're not looking too good. Maybe we should get out of here, I don't think there's anything else to find. You could use the fresh air."

They worked their way back to the boarded-up window and climbed out of the building. Walking around to the front, Blair supporting him by one arm, Jim slumped down to sit on the steps.

"Just give me a minute. All that rot and garbage just knocked my headache up a notch. Just let me get a little air and I'll be fine."

"Dial it back, man. Focus on turning down the pain. Do your breathing, you know how to do this."

Jim sat, eyes closed, and leaned back against the next step. Blair could see his breathing becoming easier and deeper, and the pained expression on Jim's face began to subside. With a huge sigh, he finally opened his eyes and offered a weak smile.

"That's better. Let's get on with it, Chief. We can't stay too long if we don't find anything incriminating."

They headed towards the next building, again skirting the outside of the building to see if there was anything that suggested recent activity. Jim held up suddenly, throwing his hand back against Blair's chest as he was about to walk past.

"What've you got, Jim?"

"Look at this," Jim gestured. Blair moved closer and took a look. "That's a new lock set into this door. Why would anyone put a new lock on a dump like this?" He raised an eyebrow at Blair.

"Only if they had recently put something in there that they wanted to protect."

"Right. I think we need to take a closer look."

The lock had the door sealed tight, so they searched for another entrance. Around the other side, they found a boarded up window with one slightly loose board. Jim began to try to loosen the board further.

"Uh, Jim, isn't this breaking and entering?"

"Nah, you saw, it was already broken. That means it's only entering."

"Entering. Got it." Blair reached over to lend a hand at pulling the boards loose.

After several minutes of work, and after enlisting the aid of a two-by-four that they found lying in a nearby alley, they got two boards off. It was just enough space for them to squeeze through.

Climbing through the window, it took them both a moment to adjust to the dim lighting within. Even Jim had some difficulty adjusting, his exhaustion revealing itself in the amount of difficutly that he had focusing his senses properly.

"OK, Jim, what do you think? Are you getting anything from your senses?"

Jim took a deep, careful sniff and burst out coughing. "Yeah. This place smells worse than your algae shakes."

Blair gave him a soft slap on the arm. "Funny, man. Real funny. Come on, Jim, are you getting anything?"

He gave it another try. "Wait. I don't know, but there's something…" Jim started off across the littered floor. "This way."

Blair followed, just able to see enough to follow Jim's rapidly retreating back. A dozen steps later, he came up short, but not quickly enough to avoid running right into his partner.

"What the…"

"Look out. The floor's half caved in right there, see?" Jim pointed just ahead of him, and Blair could just make out a darker shadow where some of the floor had collapsed.

"Oh, man! Maybe we should go back and see if we can find another way around."

"No, just be careful. Follow right in my footsteps." He continued, more slowly.

They slowly made their way across the broad warehouse floor, making several turns and detours around questionable spots. It took all of Jim's concentration to both see the weaknesses in the floor and follow the vague chemical smell that he continued to track, and their progress became slower and slower.

He almost jumped at the hand that softly fell onto his shoulder. "Hey, Jim, are you all right? Do we need to stop for a few minutes, give you a break?"

As much as Jim desperately wanted to stop and rest, he didn't think it would help. "No, lets keep moving. This might be our only break, and I don't want to waste it."

Approaching a set of stairs, he stopped momentarily, shifting and turning as he tried to locate the odor better.

Blair waited patiently. "Where next?"

"It's weird. It's like I can smell chemicals from two different directions, above us and below us. Since I don't see any stairs going down right here, up it is."

He led the way up the stairs, stopping at the top to again sample the air. Despite his increasing headache, he located a faint odor off to their right. As he turned and focused his hearing in the same direction, he thought that he could hear the faint hum of electricity as well. He turned excitedly.

"There's definitely something up ahead. I can smell something, and I can hear some kind of machinery, some kind of electric hum. Let's go!"

Jim started off at a trot, Blair close on his heels. In his exhausted state and his excitement at the possibility of finally finding the evidence they needed, he paid little attention to the creaking of the floor under their feet. Suddenly the creaking became a loud crack as the floorboard beneath him began to give way.

"Jim!" he heard as the world fell out from under him. He frantically grabbed at collapsing and splintering wood, and felt a momentary jerk at his collar as Blair desperately grabbed at his coat. A moment later he heard another loud cracking and a shriek, then everything blurred as he went through the floor. His downward descent stopped suddenly as he landed hard on the floor below, his last sensation as he lost consciousness that of a stinging pain in his back and the blurred figure of his partner falling beside him.

---------------

Something was out there, something barely piercing the darkness that surrounded him and filled him.

A voice. A vaguely familiar voice.

"…man. Jim…"

The sound faded in and out, and he tried to focus on it, a lifeline to consciousness. After a seeming eternity, the voice got a bit clearer and louder.

"Come on, Jim, you're scaring me here. Wake up, man, you gotta wake up."

Blair. His voice filled with concern, and something else.

"Jim, I could really use your help here…"

The voice seemed rougher, and a harsh cough followed. Something was wrong. Struggling towards wakefulness, Jim worked to focus his hearing even more. There it was, a roughness to Blair's breathing that wasn't normal.

Jim struggled to open his eyes and regain full consciousness. He breathed deeply, trying to fill his lungs with rich oxygen, and started coughing himself at the dust and other irritants in the stale air. The coughing awakened feeling throughout his body, and he quickly regretted even breathing as a burning pain radiated from his lower back, almost driving him back into the darkness. He moaned involuntarily.

"Jim, Jim, is that you? Please tell me that it's you, that you're finally waking up. But don't move, man, just don't move. You hear me?" Blair was practically shouting, and ended up coughing for several moments, as if he had run out of both energy and his air.

Trying to dial down his pain, Jim finally forced open heavy eyelids. Confused, he tried to focus on his surroundings as he gradually awakened and his senses came back on-line. He became aware of the throbbing headache and numerous other sore areas over his body, but the pain in his back was the most intense. He remembered falling and then feeling as if the whole building had fallen on top of him. He raised his head cautiously to look around, and froze at what he saw.

He seemed to be lying right at the broken edge of the floor, with his right arm hanging down over the edge and his left foot sticking out over the abyss. The rough edge and splinters of the torn wood pressed painfully into his forearm. Carefully turning his head, the rest of his body seemed to be lying on a more or less stable section of floor. He slowly began to pull his arm and leg up and in towards his body, his muscles trembling and the pain in his back flaring at even that small movement.

Blair must have seen the movement and called out, his voice weaker and more raspy than before.

"Jim, thank God. Hey, be careful! I don't know how unstable that floor is, and you don't want to fall again. Jim, say something. Are you okay?" Another racking cough followed.

"Yeah, Chief. Give me a minute here."

His hand and leg back on the relatively solid floor, or at least he hoped it was solid, Jim leaned over and carefully stuck his head over the side to try to get a look at Blair, whose voice seemed to be coming from below him.

It didn't take long to spot him. Blair was almost directly beneath him, one floor below, lying on his back. A piece of the fallen floor was lying partly on him, covering his right arm and much of his chest. He had several visible scrapes on his arms and small tears in his clothing, but the look of his left leg was troubling. It was twisted under him at an odd and painful looking angle. Despite his visible injuries and his abnormally pale face beneath the dirt, Blair managed a weak grin up at him.

"Oh, man, am I glad to see you. Are you all right? I thought I saw a piece of the floor, or ceiling, fall on you before I fell all the way down." This time Jim could hear a distinct wheezing sound in his breathing.

"My back's just a little sore," he lied. "How are you doing?"

Blair grimaced as he feebly waved his free hand. "Who, me? Well, as you can see, after we both fell through the floor, I managed to fall through another one. Thank goodness you didn't fall through both, too. Right now I can't get this chunk of wood off of me. I don't think my arm or shoulder is hurt, just jammed under there. My leg doesn't feel too good, I think my knee's messed up. And, oh, yeah, I think I found the chemicals." His last sentence was punctuated with another cough.

Jim cautiously turned up his sense of smell. As he did a strong chemical odor assaulted him. He looked around below him more carefully, and even in the dim light he could make out the shapes of numerous barrels and jugs on the same floor as Blair. Many of them had been knocked over or partly crushed by the fallen floors, and he could see small pools of liquid. It looked like some of the liquids were running together, and he thought that he could just see a slight haze building.

He quickly turned his attention back on Blair. Focusing both his eyesight and hearing, he could tell that his breathing sounded rough and shallow. The heartbeat that he found was too fast and a little unsteady, and his skin looked grayish and damp. Just able to see Blair's eyes in the dim light, he thought that his pupils looked odd.

Blair was being poisoned by fumes from the spilled chemicals.

"Yeah, I can see that, Chief. You just hold on, I'll be down to pull you out in a minute. In the meantime, try to slow your breathing. You know, do one of those meditation things. I don't think you want to breathe too much of that stuff."

Pulling his head back and trying to gather enough strength to stand, working on dialing down his pain sensation as Blair had taught him, he heard Blair choke out a short laugh.

"No kidding, man. But it's okay, it's not too bad. I've just got a good buzz on, you know? Like I've had one too many beers. I just hope I don't get a hangover later."

Jim hoped that a little intoxication was the worst that could happen, but he doubted it. From the wide variety of barrels, drums and containers that he had seen, who knew what Blair was being exposed to and what the combination of chemicals could do to him. He took a deep breath and shoved hard with his arms to help propel himself to his feet.

Even as he stood, he almost went right back down again. Even with his efforts to dial down his pain sensation, the pain radiated from his lower back throughout his body from head to toe, a fiery, stinging sensation. He wavered on his feet for a moment, the pain making his muscles feel heavy and unresponsive, and only the thought of Blair slowly breathing in lungful after lungful of poison kept him upright.

Taking a deep breath, and mentally turning the dial down even further, he forced one foot in front of the other and headed for the all-to-distant staircase. Each step an exercise in agony, he could feel the sweat breaking out on his forehead as he had to detour from a straight line to walk only along the lines of the beams supporting the floor. He knew that if he didn't, there was a good chance that he would fall through this floor like Blair. If he fell again, he knew that he wouldn't get up.

"Talk to me, Chief," he panted. "You still all right down there?"

It took a moment for Blair to respond, his answer preceded by a weaker-sounding cough. "Still here. But I'm starting to get a little queasy, though. I think I am gonna have that hangover after all." Jim could hear something that sounded like an attempt at a chuckle that was cut off abruptly by another round of coughing.

"Just take it easy. I'm almost there."

Finally reaching the stairs, he thankfully grabbed on to the handrail with both hands, using the strength in his arms to supplement the fading strength in his rubbery legs. He slowly made his way downwards, carefully placing his feet, sure that a slight stumble would end up with him in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn't let that happen, there was no one else to help Blair.

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused for a moment to catch his breath, but the bitter chemical odor was much stronger and he hesitated to fill his lungs. He couldn't afford to inhale too much of the stuff and pass out now. Looking around, he could see a loosely boarded window not too far off that he should be able to get them out through. He staggered over to where Blair lay, now unmoving, pinned by the unevenly torn section of floor.

"Hey, Chief, you still with me? Open your eyes for a moment."

Blair responded, taking a moment to focus his eyes on Jim. A weak smile flitted across his face.

"Great to see you, man. Give a guy a hand, will you?" he wheezed.

Jim took a firm grip on the wooden slab that lay over Blair's arm and chest. "All right, I'm gonna try to lift this off, on three. When I do, you're gonna have to roll away from me and out from under it, I don't think I can hold it up for long. Think you can do that?"

"Sure. Whenever you're ready." Their eyes met, and Jim could see the trust shining in Blair's, marred by only a trace of fear.

With a couple of deep breaths and a prayer sent heavenward for just a few more moments of strength, Jim counted to three and pulled at the edge of the slab with all of his might. It budged a few inches, even as he could feel something like a tearing sensation in his back. He groaned, and his vision darkened as the pain threatened to knock him down and out. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blair roll slowly away from him, and he released the section of floor. It crashed to the ground as he stumbled a few steps to Blair's side.

"Come on, Chief, we've gotta get out of here."

Blair looked ashen as he barely cracked his eyes open again. "I'm not feeling too good here, Jim. I…I'm not sure I can get up."

Jim unsteadily went down on one knee, grabbing one arm and pulling Blair up to a sitting position, Blair's head lolling forward against his chest. He took both of Blair's wrists and levered himself upwards again to his feet.

"Blair, I don't think I can carry you. You've gotta stand up," he pleaded. "Come on, Blair, we've gotta get out of here."

Whether it was the urgency in his voice or awareness of the danger that they both were in, Blair opened his eyes and raised his head, struggling to pull his uninjured leg into a position to stand.

"OK, I'm coming, I'm coming."

With a final burst of effort, Jim yanked on Blair's arms and pulled him to his feet. Both men almost falling as soon as they were upright, Jim hoisted one of Blair's arms across his shoulders and wrapped the other around his waist. He could feel the trembling muscles as Blair's body fought the chemicals to stay functioning. But he could tell by his weakness and the increase in the tremors that Blair was losing the fight.

Jim dragged one foot in front of the other, a slight groan accompanying each step as he forced the two of them towards the boarded window. Blair could barely put any weight on his damaged leg, and even his good leg was unsteady. His head rolled heavily against Jim's shoulder and his eyes were closed as he gasped for oxygen.

They weaved their way slowly towards the wall. Reaching the window, Jim pressed Blair up against the wall with one hand on his chest as he tried to get himself into position to attack the boards. With a powerful kick, two of the boards came loose and he squinted in the dazzling sunlight. Setting Blair down on the sill of the window, he had to steady him with one hand as he pried the boards loose with the other hand, ignoring the splinters digging into his palm and fingers. Jim carefully stepped through the window, then pulled Blair after him. He staggered along, trying to put some distance between them and the building, when he felt Blair suddenly jerk and he heard a moan.

"…oh God, gonna be sick…"

He barely had time to help Blair stop and bend over before Blair was violently ill, his entire body racked with the spasms. Even after he had rid himself of all of his stomach contents, the dry heaves continued for several more moments, and Jim thought that he saw flecks of blood in the mucus. Finally finishing, Jim gently used his sleeve to wipe Blair's mouth, then forced himself to pull the two of them along for a few more staggering steps away from the building and the deadly chemical cloud. He barely noticed the sound of the approaching car until it stopped just a few feet away, and he could hear the sound of car doors and familiar shouts. Backup had finally arrived.

"There they are! Jim, Blair, you two all right?" The blurry and wavering forms of Rafe and Brown appeared as if from nowhere.

Jim ran out of strength, the pain in his back and body finally sapping his remaining energy, and he barely felt the impact as he fell to his knees. Despite his efforts, he was unable to keep hold of Blair and he heard a soft thump as Blair's body hit the ground beside him. He slumped back on his heels, his lungs hungrily gulping at the cleaner air and his eyes sliding closed.

"Hey, man, call for a medic! Jim, what happened? Blair?"

Even as he tried to fight the encroaching darkness, panicked voices and an odd rustling, thumping sound beside him forced him to fight his eyes open.

"Oh, Jesus…get something under his head! I think he's having a seizure."

Blair was convulsing, lying face down in the dust where he had fallen. Jim reached out for him even as his world became entirely gray and he felt himself lose the battle against the void.

---------------

"How's my partner? Where's Sandburg?" he mumbled again as another masked and gowned nurse entered the treatment room.

"Detective Ellison, he's down in room 3. He's being well taken care of, I assure you. Just lie still, Doctor will be with you in a minute."

Jim gave her his best effort at his patented industrial-strength glare, but she just smiled with her eyes and continued divesting him of his clothing. He didn't know how long he had been in the emergency room, but it had already been too long. Returning to consciousness just as he had been rolled into the room, he had tried to climb off of the gurney in search of Blair but had just managed to roll over and land hard on the floor.

Between the pain in his back and the trembling weakness of his muscles, standing and walking seemed to be out of the question. Even that small movement had him gasping for air and barely holding on to consciousness. He had fumed internally as nurses and orderlies picked up his limp and uncooperative body and deposited him unceremoniously back on the rolling bed.

ER staff ebbed and flowed around him as lay, barely conscious and unable to do much more than breathe and try to watch what was happening around him. He heard them talking about contamination and exposure, and noticed that everyone was heavily masked, gowned and gloved. Everyone except him, of course, and he was stripped naked and washed down quickly and efficiently. Blood was taken, an oxygen cannula was inserted in his nose, and an IV hung and quickly started. He finally was covered with a starchy sheet. A portable x-ray machine had come and gone, and now he saw the doctor enter the room with x-rays in hand.

"Detective Ellison? Are you with us?"

"Yes," he grumbled.

"Good. I'm Doctor Merchant. I don't know if you remember, but I was talking to you when you first came in. How do you feel?"

"Lousy."

The doctor chuckled. "I'm not surprised. As far as we can tell, you were exposed to a number of dangerous chemicals. You're a lucky man, though, your exposure doesn't seem to have been too severe. We're taking it very seriously, though, and we'll be monitoring you closely for the next couple of days. The Hazardous Materials team is at the exposure site, I'm told, and hopefully we'll be able to get more specific information on which chemicals you were exposed to so we'll know a bit more about how to treat you."

"Sandburg?"

"Your partner? Yes, he's here. He had quite a bit more exposure and there's another team working on him. I'm sure they're taking good care of him."

"..check on him…"

"You need to rest and take it easy, Detective. I know that there were some other officers that came in with you, I'm sure they will be checking on your partner. I'm sure that the treatment team is still working on him, though, it's too soon to know much about his condition.

Right now we need to concentrate on you. In addition to the chemical exposure, you seem to have quite a few bumps and bruises. The cut on your head doesn't need stitches, and I don't see any sign of a skull fracture from our x-rays of that contusion. You don't have signs of a concussion, but we'll be monitoring that anyway while you're here.

You do have a couple of cracked ribs in the back, but no sign of any fractures to your vertebrae or apparent damage to your spinal cord. There are some torn muscles and ligaments in your lower back, along with some pretty severe bruising. The combination is causing you the spasms, radiating pain, and weakness. The good news is that it all will heal. The bad news is that you are going to be limited in your activities for a while and are going to have some therapy and rehabilitation ahead of you once things have healed.

For now, we're just giving you oxygen, along with basic hydration through that IV. Until we get more information about the chemicals that you were exposed to and get your blood tests back, I'm afraid that we can't give you anything else. Hopefully we'll get more information soon and we'll be able to give you some muscle relaxants and pain killers, to make you a little more comfortable.

We'll be transferring you to an isolation room shortly, at least until we know what kind of chemical hazard we're dealing with. I'm afraid that your visitors will be limited, and they'll have to gown up as well if they enter your room. Just lie back and rest, Detective, and hopefully we'll have you feeling much better soon."

The doctor left after a pat on his arm. As much as he tried, Jim couldn't resist the drowsiness that swept over him and he drifted into a troubled sleep.

---------------

"Hey, Jim, welcome back."

Opening and slowly focusing his eyes on the blurry figure hanging over him, Jim gradually recognized Simon's worried face, a cautious grin slowly forming.

He started to answer, but had to cough and clear his throat before he could form the words.

"Hey, Simon." Jim looked around as he awakened fully, remembering where he was and how he got there. "How long…?"

"How long have you been here? Well, you two were brought in yesterday morning, and it's almost supper time. How are you feeling?"

It took a moment as he tried to find the answer to that question.

"Tired. Kinda fuzzy."

"I can imagine. The nurse said that you might sleep a lot as the rest of the chemicals get out of your system. She said that the medications that they have you on would make you drowsy, too."

"Simon, how's Blair?"

Simon sat carefully on the edge of the bed and let out a worried sigh. "Better, I guess. At least that's what they tell me. He's still in ICU, they tell me that he hasn't regained consciousness yet, but they're "treating him aggressively." That's what they keep telling me. I've only been able to get in to see him once, for a few minutes, but that's it. They seem to be awfully busy treating him, I hope that's a good thing. But to be honest, I don't know much."

"Who's his doctor? Can I talk to him?"

"That's a good question, I don't know who the lead doctor is. I don't think I've ever seen so many doctors in one place. It turns out that some of the chemicals that were in that warehouse were stolen from a government storage facility, and never publicly reported as missing. Who knows how Standis got his hands on them. I guess that Uncle Sam didn't want citizens to know that he had a stockpile of hazardous chemicals, and wanted even less for everyone to know that they lost some of them. Well, when I found out…you could say that I got on the phone and raised some hell. The next thing I know, there's a whole team of government doctors flying in here to treat you two, with all kinds of specialists and top secret new drugs, and Standis is hauled in by the feds. I think he'll be out of business for a long, long time. I guess the doctors know what they're doing, you sure look a lot better and Blair's hanging in there."

"Hazardous chemicals…you mean chemical weapons?" Jim was practically apoplectic.

"I don't know, Jim. They're not saying much. But I’d say that there's a good chance that our government will be eager to take care of all of your treatment and recovery expenses."

"That's not much comfort to Blair right now, Simon," Jim snapped.

"I know, I know. But at least he's getting the best possible care. We have to focus on that right now."

Jim angrily rubbed the bridge of his nose with one trembling hand. "I hear you, Simon. Sorry, I didn't mean to take it out on you." He looked towards the side of the bed and located the call button, pressing it firmly. "I've gotta go see Sandburg and see what those so-called experts are doing to him."

Simon stood, openmouthed. "Jim, you just woke up yourself. There's no way you're gonna be able to get out of bed and go up to ICU."

"Just watch me, Simon, just watch me."

---------------

Jim impatiently flipped the TV channels with the remote, glaring at the doorway for the hundredth time that afternoon.

He'd been in the hospital for four days now. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been allowed to get out of bed and to the ICU until just the day before. He'd still been too weak to put up much of a fight at first, but they had finally given in to his almost constant requests. After a great deal of careful preparation, he was helped to transfer to a wheelchair and his IV placed on a wheeled stand. He had still gotten too little information from the medical staff about Blair and had to see for himself that he actually was improving.

The visit, while disturbing, was still a little encouraging. He had literally backed one of the government doctors into a corner, blocking his escape with the wheelchair, until he talked with him in detail about Blair's treatment. In spite of all of the deliberately obtuse medical jargon that the doctor used, he could make out that Blair had stabilized and was steadily improving. He had initially been very critical, but through massive drug treatment and support, he was finally growing stronger.

When Jim had finally been wheeled up to Blair's bedside for his ten minute visit, he had initially doubted the doctor's prognosis. Blair was still unconscious, a respirator forcing oxygen in and out of unresponsive lungs. IVs, tubes and monitors were everywhere. He still appeared desperately pale, almost corpse-like, except for the scrapes and bruises that were scattered over him and some purplish-red patches of rash.

Jim had reached over to gently touch his arm, and was actually surprised to feel that Blair's skin felt warm and alive. He grasped the arm more firmly, comforted by the touch, and allowed a trace of a smile to grow on his face. Taking one last look at Blair's face as he readied to leave, his heart raced as he saw the familiar blue eyes flutter open. He tried to lean closer as he could see Blair's struggle to hold them open and focus, and grinned widely when their eyes met and locked. He could see recognition form for a moment, and a slight lift of an eyebrow, before Blair's eyes slid closed again. It was all that he needed right then, the knowledge that Blair would truly be all right.

Now he was waiting for the word from his own doctor about when he could be discharged. Although he felt far from 100%, he was finally able to get out of bed on his own and make it, although unsteadily, to the bathroom and back by himself. In his own mind, that meant it was time to be discharged. He had little intention of spending much time away from the hospital once he was discharged, of course, but he had a better chance of spending more time in the ICU visiting Blair once he was no longer a patient. Now that Blair was regaining consciousness, even if only for brief periods, Jim wanted him to see a friendly face during those awakening periods.

A short rap on the door heralded the arrival of the doctor, and Jim put on what he hoped looked like a healthy and energetic expression.

---------------

"Welcome home, Chief."

Jim held the door open as he ushered Blair in with a flourish. Dropping the gym bag off of his shoulder and letting it fall to the floor, he closed the door behind them with relief.

"Thanks, Jim. You have no idea how glad I am to be out of the hospital, man. The loft's never looked better."

Yes, but you have, Jim thought to himself. Even though it had been two and a half weeks since the incident, Blair still looked pale and gaunt. He moved slowly, only partly due to the brace enclosing his left knee and the cane that he needed for support. There was really nothing else that the hospital could do for him, though. Only a period of rest and recuperation, and time, would complete his recovery. He watched carefully as Blair limped over and eased himself down on the sofa with a sigh.

"Why don't you have a seat and I'll fix you some tea, or some hot chocolate. What would you like?"

"It doesn't matter, as long as it doesn't come from the hospital cafeteria."

Jim grinned as he set the kettle on the stove. He turned and faced the cupboards, deciding on some old fashioned real hot chocolate, the kind you made yourself with hot milk and cocoa. Opening the cupboard doors and peering in, he grabbed the bag of mini marshmallows, tossing them to the counter, then spotted the cocoa on the back of the top shelf. He stretched up and reached in for the cocoa, pausing when a sudden twinge of pain stung his back. Taking a breath, and turning down his "pain dial," he reached up again and grasped the can.

He had been too preoccupied with visiting Blair, haranguing the government "experts," and then preparing for Blair's return home to bother with the physical therapy for his back. It bothered him some, actually bothered him a lot at times, but he had gotten pretty good at dialing down the pain quickly. He figured that he could do some therapy once Blair was a little more functional, and until then he could manage.

"OK, Chief, hot cocoa it is. Do you want the little marshmallows in it?" He walked into the living room to ask Blair.

He found his partner asleep on the sofa, his head tilted back and his mouth open. He still had his jacket on and the cane in his hand. Jim was finding it quite disconcerting, that Blair seemed to fall asleep at the drop of the hat, even in the middle of conversations at times. But the doctors had not been concerned, just telling him that Blair had so little strength or stamina from his poisoning that he still needed extraordinary amounts of rest. Jim walked softly over and removed the cane, covering Blair with the throw from the back of the sofa, then returning to the kitchen to fix the cocoa. By the time it was done, Blair might be awake again.

When the cocoa was ready, he poured two mugs, added the marshmallows, and carried them into the living room. Setting them down on the coffee table, he softly called out to his roommate.

"Blair…Blair, you want your cocoa now?"

With a stretch and a yawn, Blair awoke. Taking stock of the throw that warmed his body and the steaming mugs of cocoa, he grinned sleepily.

"Did it again, huh?"

"Yeah. Out like a light. Come on, Sleeping Beauty, drink up."

Finding the remote control, Jim turned on the TV and found a baseball game to watch. They sat back and sipped their cocoa, reveling in the quiet normalcy of their lives that they had missed for these last couple of weeks. A half hour later, just as he looked like he was drifting off to sleep again, Blair leaned forward and searched for his cane to get up. Jim handed it to him as he scooted forward on the sofa.

"Where are you going, Chief? You need to lie down?"

"No, I just need to take a trip down the hall, if you know what I mean."

"Need any help?"

"No, Jim, I've been able to handle it since I was two, but thanks for asking."

Jim watched as Blair slowly limped down the hall. Despite Blair's best efforts to disguise it, he could see how little exertion it took for Blair's muscles to start trembling, his face to become a shade more pale. He had almost wanted Blair to stay in the hospital a bit longer, but the hovering government doctors that wanted to study everything about Blair's recovery made both of them nervous. The last thing they needed from this was for Blair to become a lab rat, as one of the few people to have ever been exposed to this combination of chemicals and survived.

Despite himself, Jim extended his senses to listen in as Blair finished in the bathroom and began to make his way back down the hall. He could hear Blair's heart speed up and his breathing become a bit more labored at his efforts, and decided that Blair might need a hand. Jim rose and began to walk towards him, to offer an arm, when Blair spotted him and raised a warning hand.

"I'm fine, Jim. I'm just not up for a marathon yet."

Jim stopped in his tracks and waited for Blair to make his deliberate way back into the living room. Just as he almost reached his destination, Blair caught his braced leg on the edge of the area rug and began to fall. He cursed as he lost his balance and Jim ran towards him, trying to catch him before he hit either the coffee table or the floor. Bending forward and reaching to grab Blair, catching him and twisting him so that he fell onto the sofa instead of the floor, Jim felt a stabbing pain and spasm in his back as he tried to straighten up. A look of horror appeared on Blair's face as he heard Jim gasp and watched him topple forward to the floor.

"Oh my God…Jim!"

---------------

Jim groaned as he heard Blair limping up the stairs.

"All right, Jim. Strip and assume the position."

Knowing that his arguments would be simply wasted breath, Jim pulled off his sweatshirt and scooted down the bed, lying back down on his stomach. After three days in the hospital for additional tests and treatment for his back, Jim had finally gotten to come home yesterday. Every day at the hospital and all of the way home, he had gotten an earful from Blair about the dangers of dialing his senses all of the way down and leaving them there when he knew that he had a real injury. Jim had rarely seen Blair in all-out anger mode before, and decided that he didn't much want to see it again.

Jim had argued about the need for physical therapy appointments, asserting that all he needed was a bit of rest. He and Blair had finally come to an agreement, that he would attend therapy every other day and he would allow Blair to give him a massage and do the prescribed stretching exercises with him on the alternate days. He really didn't want Blair exerting himself, but he wanted to go to therapy even less.

He closed his eyes and tried to make himself comfortable. Now that he wasn't turning down his pain sensations, he found that the pain made him stiff, and the stiffness led to more pain. He was already sick and tired of feeling sick and tired.

He felt Blair thump down on the bed beside him, and heard him set some things down on the floor.

"All right, Jim. I want you to tell me if you feel any pain, anything more than a little soreness. OK?"

"Uh-huh."

"Here we go, then. I want you to try to breathe slowly and focusing on relaxing your muscles, your entire body."

He started at the unexpected sensation of a warm liquid dripping down onto his spine and beginning to flow slowly down towards his rear, then relaxed again as he felt Blair's warm hands spreading the liquid gently over his back. He tried to keep from tensing as he felt Blair's hands stroking softly over his skin, first just spreading the massage oil, then beginning to rub more firmly. His hands moved magically over his back, softly at first and then firmly kneading his flesh, working up and down his back. He felt the stiffness of his muscles beginning to give way under Blair's strong caresses.

Practically mesmerized with the stroking and the soothing sensations vibrating throughout his previously stiff and painful muscles, he was startled to full wakefulness when he felt Blair tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down.

"Wha…"

"Jim, I've gotta work down here to get all of your lower back. Relax, man. I promise I'll still respect you in the morning."

Jim reached an arm back to slap at Blair, chuckling at his own joke, then let himself relax again as Blair resumed his ministrations.

Repeating his previous actions, Blair poured a little more oil onto Jim's lower back, then began to smooth it over his skin. He repeated the same pattern, stroking first gently then more firmly, rubbing the oil into Jim's skin as his hands moved back and forth across the valley of his back and the top of his rear. As he massaged harder and deeper, Jim could really feel how stiff and sore that area was as Blair kneaded his back and butt muscles into submission. Jim found himself falling back into a relaxed dreamlike state.

After several long and enjoyable minutes, he could hear and feel Blair tiring. He began slowing down, massaging more lightly. Jim regretted it when Blair removed his hands, the experience more enjoyable than he would have liked to admit. He gasped in pleasure when he suddenly felt something deliciously warm drape across his back before Blair pulled his comforter up to cover him.

"How's that feel, Jim? I warmed towels up in the microwave so you could have a nice warm pad on your back when I was done."

Jim let the warmth seep through his tired and limp muscles. "Mmmm. Feels great. You've got great hands, Chief."

He heard a warm chuckle beside him. "Yep. That's what all the ladies say." The mattress sprung up as Blair stood and gathered up his supplies. "You gonna take a nap now, Jim?"

"I could sleep. What about you?"

"Yeah, you wore me out. I think I'll sack out for a while, too. Sleep well, Jim."

"You too, Chief. Thanks."

Moments later, silence reigned throughout the loft, punctuated occasionally by the odd snuffle and snore coming from above and below.

THE END

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