Strawberry Lips
by DannyD
 

Blood. Dard red and thick.

The blood of a human being...

The blood of a Sentinel.... Jim's blood.

Blair Sandburg tried to swallow but his mouth was as dry as paper. His stomach wanted to throw up but Blair just couldn't cease staring at the large blood spot covering the driver's seat of Jim's Ford truck. Covered with his friend's blood... Dark red and thick. Blair swallowed hard again, a look of panic in his blue eyes.

"What the hell happened here?" he whispered not knowing if anyone would have been able to hear him. He couldn't speak. His voice had cracked. The smell of blood assaulted his nose and for a second Blair was wondering if he suddenly had a Sentinel's sense of smell.

There was a comforting hand on his shoulder and the young anthropologist forced himself to focus on the man beside him.

"He's been shot," Simon Banks, Jim's friend and Captain of Major Crimes of Cascade PD, explained with a stoic face.

Shot! The image of a bleeding, wounded Jim Ellison sent shivers down Blair's spine. Shot - oh, man, the word itself sounded so..., so *sharp, fast and final*. Sharp and fast like just a bullet could be; final like ... Blair shook his head to clear the threatening thoughts. No. Jim wouldn't be dead. He couldn't. He *mustn't*.

*****

What had happened? What the hell had happened? And - most importantly - *why*?

Detective Jim Ellison had no memory of being shot. He couldn't remember the gun going off - he should have seen it, he grimaced, he should have heard it, but he hadn't. He should have noticed that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He should have known from his experience with Laura. Pheromones. He couldn't believe that he'd been obsessed by a woman again. No, not obsessed. Fascinated, he corrected himself. Fascinated and in love. No chemical explanation this time. So, why should he have paid attention? Why didn't he pay attention, when she reached into her handbag and took out the small lady revolver?

What....? His mind screamed and he was almost sure that the spoken word had escaped his lips when the bullet hit his body and violently gained entrance. *Sharp, fast and final*.

Jim held his breath and paused for a moment as another wave of pain rushed through his body. They had kissed. He remembered the kiss. Giggling like prepubescent teenagers he had parked the truck in the middle of nowhere, both of them almost unable to withstand the urge to touch the other. They'd kissed, passionately, hungry for each other. Jim had turned up his sense of touch to fully experience her cheeks, her closed eyes, her magnificent mouth, her tongue playing with his. He had felt his sensitive lips almost burning with the sensation.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a damn good kisser?" she had asked breathlessly.

"Not lately," he had replied between two hot kisses. He had been able to taste her lipstick - something like strawberries, or was that just his imagination, some sort of wishful thinking? The scent of her perfume had almost driven him crazy. Oh god, women always seemed to have a special knack for seducing men. Jim remembered his hands touching her body and a tearing noise when her blouse hadn't opened fast enough to ease his desire. Soft skin. Velvet-like. His tactile senses had sent wonderful messages to his brain and he had allowed those messages to fill his head. Nothing but skin and her soft breath near his own chest. He had felt her breath like fire, but pleasantly so.

Jim shook his head and tried unsuccessfully to calm his breath and racing heartbeat. He was bleeding but he had no time to examine his injury. He had to run, no reason why, but he knew by instinct that he HAD TO RUN!

His shirt was blood-soaked, as was his left hand which he pressed into the wound to stop the bleeding. The bleeding... He knew the second the bullet hit him that he had completely zoned-out on her...on her skin....her scent...on everything. No time to react. It had hit him out of the blue - in the true sense of the meaning - and the next thing he was aware of was the excruciating pain in his left side.

"I am sorry, Jim," she had just said, smiling a evil smile. She had raised the gun again but suddenly his survival instinct had come back and he had hit her in the face. She had fallen back against the passenger door of the truck, unconscious.

Now he remembered her name.

Jody.

*****

Jody Waters' voice was trembling with the memory of the last few hours, the shock still audible and visible on her face. She pulled at the blanket a paramedic had given her. The bruise on her cheekbone was already a shiny blue-black. Jim must have hit her with all his strength. Violently.

Blair shook his head in disbelief. Her story was just ridiculous! Everyone must know that it was absolutely impossible. Sandburg would have burst out laughing if the whole situation hadn't been so deadly serious. "We kissed...," Jody recalled. She closed her eyes for a second to shut out the painful memory that filled her head.

"We kissed...., and suddenly he....Jim became so violent. I've never seen him like that before...He tore my blouse...his hands touched me everywhere. I wanted him to stop as I was not comfortable with that..He just laughed saying that he'd the time of his life..." Jody stopped for a moment, stuck. She shuddered and pulled the blanket closer.

"Then...he kissed me again....He,...he w-was such a brute all of a sudden. I asked him to stop but he wouldn't...stop. He wouldn't stop....."

Her voice became a little bit more shrill, and Blair silently congratulated her on her brilliant acting. He didn't believe her. Not a single word.

"I couldn't deter him... I tried but ...but he was so strong.. Then...." Her voice faded and tears filled her eyes. She bowed her head and her blonde hair covered her face.

Simon Banks reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder. When he touched her, Jody jerked away. "Just try to relax and tell us what happened next," Simon said with an apologetic smile.

Jody looked up to him and her eyes were cold when she continued, "I didn't know what to do. I ...knew he was a cop and that ..I could ...trust him.. that I was supposed to trust him...He wouldn't stop..., he hit me..and....and I thought he would...rape me." The last words were just a whisper. "I was petrified with fear.., so...I shot......" Tears streamed all over her face now.

The captain glanced at Blair and caught his ...grin.

"Sandburg! Wait in the car!" he ordered sharply.

Blair opened his mouth to protest but Simon just looked at him with a grim face. Blair shrugged and turned.

"You know that's not true, don't you, Miss Waters?" he just said as he walked away.

Minutes later Simon Banks approached Sandburg's car, a more than furious expression on his face. Blair knew that he was about to explode but he didn't care. His partner and friend was somewhere out there. Wounded. Alone and helpless. Jim needed their help. No matter what.

"Sandburg, what did..." Simon began, but Blair wouldn't let him finish his outburst.

"She's lying, Simon! I know that, and you should know that too. Jim wouldn't hurt a woman like that. Oh, man, he would never hurt a woman at all! Never!!"

Blair shook his head fiercly and a few long curls of his dark hair fell into his face. Simon raised his hand to calm Sandburg's anger.

"I would like to be able to refuse to believe that myself, Sandburg." He sighed deeply. "However, you've seen her. Her blouse. That bruise on her cheek is real. Very real. I can't imagine that she's done that to herself." Banks sighed again watching Blair shaking his head again.

"No, Captain! No way!" Blair put the keys of his car into the ignition and the engine started promptly.

"Where are you going?" Simon asked. He knew the answer, before the anthropologist gave it to him. "I'm looking for Jim, Simon!" Blair pushed the accelerator but without any gears the engine just screamed in protest.

"Sandburg...."

Blair put the car in first gear, one foot still applying the brakes.

"Blair!" There was something in Simon's voice that made Blair turn his head to look at him.

"What?" he snapped regretting the same moment his own sharp tone.

Simon looked around to make sure no one else would hear his next comment. "Call me if you find him."

*****

Captain Banks stared at the now closed door of his office. The deputy D.A. had just left his office making his point crystal clear: he wanted to shed light on the case as soon as possible. So did Simon, but the D.A.'s request to put an APB on Jim was just too hard to digest. Jim was no criminal, the police captain had offered, but all in vain. Could he be too closely involved that to see the truth? What truth? Simon turned his chair to look out of the window of his office. It was dark outside, late, after midnight. He could see his own reflection in the window.

No, Sandburg was right. They knew Jim Ellison, and he would never be able to do that he was accused of. But... Simon remembered Jim's reaction to that Laura McCarthy character once. Sandburg had tried to explain it to him as a chemical reaction to Laura's pheromones and that Jim's extraordinary Sentinel abilities had caused his irrationality. Pure instinct.

Simon sighed. What if Jim hadn't been capable of controlling himself this time? What if Jody Waters spoke the truth?

Pure instinct?

Simon picked up the phone...still reluctant. This was his job though and he had to put his personal feelings aside.

"This is Captain Banks. I need an observation team for Ellison's apartment. ...Yes. Tonight and now!" He finished the call and put the receiver down. Simon threw his glasses onto the desk and pinched his nose. This couldn't be true.

*****

It was almost 2.40 a.m. when Blair Sandburg pulled his car into the parking lot near Jim's loft. He had looked everywhere. Places he'd thought Jim would use as a hide-out, but he hadn't found him. Maybe he hadn't tried hard enough? But Sandburg had even checked his office at the university assuming Jim would use *his* little hide-out. No luck. It seemed like his friend had just disappeared from the planet. Blair had ran out of options here. Usually, it was Jim who did the rescuing..., he smiled thinking of all the terrifying moments when he had thought he would surely die... when he mentally had made up his will ...,however, when all the odds were against him - Jim would show up. Just like that. Just be there. All the time. Sometimes Blair was wondering why he even was scared when these things happened, because he should by now know that he could bet his life that his partner wouldn't let him down. There was no reason for fear. Jim would come eventually. There was a saying Blair had read somewhere that now popped up in his mind: "A friend is someone who comes in when the whole world has gone down." However, how far could one go with a bullet wound? Blair could only guess how bad his partner's condition was right now.

Maybe he was already dead.

Blair entered the loft and slammed the door in frustration. It closed with a loud bang, a gruesome sound in the eerie still of the night.

"Damnit!" Sandburg cursed, not caring if the neighbours heard him. He threw his keys onto the small table beside the door and reached for the lights.

Suddenly a strong hand grabbed his right hand and a second hand covered his mouth. Blair tensed up immediately.

"I thought I'd taught you my houserules, Chief," Jim Ellison's soft voice whispered into his ear. Then...,

"No lights."

Blair was startled but nevertheless overwhelmed with relief to see his friend alive. "Jim! I am so glad, man," he babbled enthusiastically but Jim interrupted him.

"Shhh," he made. "Your room..."

He took Blair's arm and led him through the darkness. Jim's knees buckled once and Sandburg tried to support his weak body as best as the could. As soon as they reached his room, Jim collapsed onto Blair's bed - and onto a pile of books. Ellison gasped as the all-too familiar wave of pain burnt through his system again.

Blair removed the books quickly and gently took Jim's legs to help him lie on the bed. The Sentinel moaned when his injured side protested at the sudden movement.

"Comfortable enough?" Blair asked, a worried look on his face. Citylights from outside illuminated the room and Blair could see Jim's face covered with sweat. Blair winced himself when Jim doubled up with the next surge of pain.

"What can I do?" Blair had never felt so helpless. He got up and reached for the lights again.

"No! They'll see you...," Jim tried to reach for Blair but he was suddenly too weak to move. He followed him through the darkness with his Sentinel sight and saw Blair smiling.

"If they're watching the apartment, they probably saw me entering. It would be strange if I didn't use the lights," he said as he switched them on.

Jim looked awful.

No, Blair thought grimly, that was an understatement. Jim looked like hell, like Old Lazarus just risen from death. His face was pale and sweat-covered. The ice-blue eyes were dull with the pain. His left hand was pressed into his side where the bullet must have entered. Jim's shirt was soaked and even his jeans were covered with blood.

Dark red and thick

"Oh, man," the words escaped Blair's lips. Again, he felt the urge to vomit. He hated blood. Always had. As precious as it might be, the image of human blood oozing from a wound like this always caused him to gag. However, this was neither the time nor the place to think about it, he reminded himself sharply. His friend needed help. The world was going down...and it was his turn now to come in.

Sandburg was kneeling beside the bed. He touched Jim's hand carefully.

"Hey, Jim, let me have a look," he demanded softly.

Jim winced accompanied by a low moan when Blair pulled his shirt out of his jeans and gently removed it.

"Oh, my god," Blair exclaimed discovering the entrance wound right beneath Jim's ribcage. Jim could hear Blair's voice shaking with fear and those expressive eyes looked almost panic. He tried to reach out again to lay a comforting hand on his partner's shoulder, but his body was just too weak to induce his muscles to perform the movement. He only brushed against Blair's arm and closed his eyes exhaustedly.

"It's okay, Chief," he tried to calm his friend. "The bullet went right through..." Jim's voice became vague.

"Just try to...stop.....the...bleeding."

With a deep sigh Jim drifted into unconsciousness. He was safe now.

*****

"Anything?!" Just one single word, but the sharpness and concern were clearly audible. Officer Kenneth Roth and his partner, Mark Snyder, were observing Ellison's loft from the opposite side of the street. The rain hadn't stopped and it was anything but a pleasant job. Neither of them knew Detective Ellison in person, but they were well aware of his reputation as one of the most successful cops of the Cascade PD.

"No, sir," Roth spoke into his cell phone. "No sign of Ellison yet. His partner, however, came in about an hour ago..., and approximately twenty minutes later his girlfriend arrived."

At the other end of the line, Simon Banks frowned.

"Girlfriend?" he repeated slowly. "What makes you so sure that she was his girlfriend?" A thought, still buried deep in his brain, occurred to him, but Simon wasn't sure if he should allow the thought to become clear.

"Well, Mr. Sandburg seemed to expect her..And....they, well, we saw them kissing each other." Roth seemed to be a little uncomfortable with the subject. Their order was to watch the loft, not to play Peeping Tom on Sandburg's love life.

"Do you want us to check the place out, sir?" Roth asked, a little bit nervous now of making a mistake.

They also knew that the Captain and Ellison were friends. It would be the end of their short careers if they didn't act by the book here.

The thought forced its way into Simons mind, and the Captain replied,

"No, that won't be necessary. I know his girlfriend. It's okay." He put the receiver back and despite the situation, Simon Banks smiled at Sandburg's ingenuity. Amber Larkin.

*****

Jim Ellison didn't remember where he was. He tried to look around but it was too dark. He tuned up his enhanced sight, but even his Sentinel vision wasn't able to penetrate the black hole. Strange darkness, he thought, suddenly frightened. He should be able to see something.

Jim opened up all his senses now to find out where he was and what might have happened.

*Smell*.

Flowers. Roses. Red roses.... Was there a different odor between red roses and, say, yellow ones? They reminded him of a perfume Carolyn had used when they were still married. Perfume? Was he smelling the scent of a woman here? A name flashed through his mind and Jim struggled to remember the face belonging to the name. Jody Waters. Blonde hair - Jim could still smell her shampoo - deep blue eyes and.., he frowned slightly, strawberry lips.

*Sound*.

There were two voices. One male and one female. They must be in the same room with him, Jim concluded. Although he couldn't see he could feel their presence. The old bat trick still worked.... "How is he?" Jim knew this male voice. Unique and distinctive as Blair Sandburg himself. Ellison tried to send a message to his brain to make his mouth formulate a sentence and assure his partner that he was fine, but...

...*TOUCH*!!!!!!!!

Jim winced and he was absolutely positive that it was no one other than himself when his sensitive ears picked up a suppressed moan. There was a sharp pain in his left arm, prickling, a thousand times multiplied by his hyper-active sense of touch. Something small, long metallic was shoved into his vein. A needle? Jim could clearly feel it go deeper and deeper and suddenly releasing a cold liquid that now forced its way through his blood stream. Only seconds later the left side of his upper body started throbbing. Remembering the familiar pain, Jim moaned again. He tried to breathe in order to turn the level of pain down exactly as Sandburg had taught him. However, the more he breathed the more the pain raged through his body.

There was a hand on his forehead..., a gentle touch of a small, female hand, and Jim concentrated on it begging it to wipe the pain away. 'Turn the dial turn, Ellison!'

The voice he heard next though didn't sound like a woman at all.

"Jim? Jim, can you hear me?" It was Sandburg again. He could feel his warm breath near his ear. "Jim?!!"

Ellison formed a sentence and hoped that his brain would send out the right message...

"Turn the lights on, Sandburg," the message came out, and though he couldn't see it, Blair raised his eyebrows.

"Why don't you just open your eyes, Jim?" he suggested softly.

Open his eyes? Sandburg was kidding, right? He couldn't see for God's sake, and Blair just wanted him to...open his eyes? It couldn't be that simple, could it?

Jim Ellison forced his heavy eyelids to open. It seemed to take the last string of strength from him, but finally he managed to open them slightly. He squinted against the sudden brightness.

Someone was sitting on the egde of his bed. Dark brown hair, blue eyes....Jim's eyes seemed to betray him. Sandburg hadn't ever put on make-up before, he thought, confused, and closed his eyes again. The kid was getting more weird everyday...

"Detective, just try to lie still and don't move," the female voice he'd heard earlier said. Jim opened his eyes again and focused on the person in front of him.

"Do you remember Amber, Jim?" Sandburg asked and glanced at the young medical student sitting on the edge of the bed.

Jim's mind raced. Amber?? He remembered the name and the face but he couldn't make the connection at first. Why was thinking so hard sometimes? Suddenly, it came to him. Amber Larkin, the young woman who had worked as a prostitute when he and Blair had met her. And eventually saved her life after Klaus Zeller had kidnapped her.

"Yes, I do," Jim said. "I am glad you switched jobs," he smiled weakly closing his eyes again as the effort seemed to cost too much energy.

"Me too," Amber smiled back. "Blair called me and told me what happened. ... I treated your injury as best as I could but you should go to a hospital. I'm no doctor, you know." She checked his pulse again and then nodded towards Blair. He was going to be okay.

"I think...you did a good job here," Jim said, eyes still closed. He could feel the bandages covering his chest with each intake of breath. Of course, he could feel much more but he didn't dare to turn up his sense of touch more than necessary. The little experience with the needle was more than he needed to know about pain for a long time. It had never occurred to him that simple medical examinations like taking blood or, what Amber had just done, administering medicine, would be that....unpleasant. He started turning down the level of pain again, and this time it worked as he felt a nice sensation of light muzziness in an instant.

"You were quite lucky, Detective," Amber spoke again. "The bullet went right through without hitting any organs. It's almost a miracle. A little bit more to the left or right or deeper and you would have sustained severe internal injuries. I've just given you a shot to stimulate your circulation. You'll be fine soon."

*****

Amber had long gone, reassuring Blair that Jim would be just fine soon, and now Blair was sitting on the edge of his desk. He was sure that there was an observation team outside watching every movement he made, and so he had kissed Amber good-bye to maintain the assumption she was his girlfriend. Hopefully, the cops outside would buy it. Somehow he feared that any second the front door would swing open and a S.W.A.T. team would burst into the loft to arrest Jim.

Should he call Simon as the Captain had asked him to? He would want to know that Jim was still alive. Maybe Simon could help them out here, Blair thought. During the last couple of hours Sandburg had felt so helpless and the frustration weighed on him like a rock. And for the first time ever he thought Naomi was right when she once said that he wasn't cut out for police work. Oh, man, he had almost fainted spotting all the blood! He was an anthropologist, not a doctor, not a cop and definitely not a hero. That was Jim's role. He was just....the troublesome fly sitting on Jim's back all the time.

'Oh, come on, Sandburg, you're talking bullshit here,' he thought. The whole situation was eating at his nerves.

Blair hadn't noticed that Jim had opened his eyes and was watching him silently. His voice, although weak and low, startled him.

"Are you zoning, Chief?"

Blair jumped a little. He shook his head and moved to sit beside the bed.

"Just thinking," he said with a dismissive gesture. "How are you feeling?"

It took Jim a few moments to ask his body the same question. The pain at his side was bearable now, but he was still so very tired.

"Did I get hit by a garbage truck again?" he asked jokingly, not expecting an answer though. "I think I'll live," he sighed.

There was silence for more than a minute, both men nervous of the coming discussion.

"Jim,...." Blair began calmly. "What happened?"

What happened? A simple enough question, but full of unsolved mysteries. Jim was about to ask the same question since he couldn't provide the answers.

"What time is it?" he asked instead.

"Oh, wait...," Blair looked at his alarm clock. "Almost six o'clock," he answered.

"What do you remember, Jim?" Blair re-phrased his question.

Slowly, almost afraid of feeling the pain and...the betrayal again, Jim began to speak.

*****

Snyder and Roth, the observation team outside the Ellison loft, had started arguing about their performance here. Their orders were quite simple: observe the loft, arrest Ellison if he showed up. Up to now he hadn't, so why should they check the place out? Banks had called again twice and they couldn't report anything new except for the fact that Sandburg's girlfriend had left a couple of hours ago.

"And I say we go in and check the place out!" Roth claimed.

"Oh, forget it! How could he have managed to get inside without us seeing him?" his partner replied taking a sip from his cup of coffee.

Roth yawned mightily and rubbed his eyes.

Neither of them saw the young blonde woman who entered the building across the street.

*****

Almost 7 a.m., Simon Banks sighed deeply as he watched the hand of the clock moving. Why didn't Sandburg call?! However, his lack of communication was actually a positive sign actually. He would have called if Jim was...dead. Simon fought the urge to pick up the phone and dial Ellison's number. Maybe he was afraid of the truth? No, Simon shook his head, more to reassure himself that the whole case was just a huge misunderstanding. He helped himself to another cup of coffee - Hawaiian Beauty the label promised - and watched the dark liquid, almost trying to read the coffee-grounds.

There was a knock at the door and seconds later Detective Brown peered into his office.

"Sir? I think you should read this...," he started and Simon waved him to enter the office.

"What is it?"

Brown seemed to hesitate a little. "You know, it's hard to believe what this woman says about Jim. So, I started to do some digging and...." He handed his Captain a small file.

Simon put his glasses back on and read a marked paragraph. His lips moved silently and his eyes became big. He looked at Brown, almost not believing what he'd just read. An indiscribable feeling of relief threatened to overwhelm him and he drank his coffee to distract himself. He stared back at the file in his hand and then glanced at Brown who was grinning all over his face. Oh, god, this meant Jim was innocent!

"Let's go!" Simon stood and was out of his office before Brown was able to move.

*****

Blair listened to Jim's story in silence, only putting a comforting hand on his shoulder or his arm once in a while, a reassuring gesture to tell his friend that he wasn't alone with this. Jim's face showed no emotions, only his famous jaw muscles seemed to dance the twist - the only visible sign of his hurt. Jim's voice cracked once when the memory of their kiss moved him to the depths of his soul.

"How many cultures have you studied, Blair?" Jim asked suddenly.

Taken totally by surprise, Blair laughed. "Oh, I've lost count, man! Why?"

Jim didn't answer. He just stared at a vague spot on the far wall.

"Jim?" Recognizing the familiar symptoms, Blair touched his hand slightly to prevent him from zoning-out.

"Can you give me an anthropological explanation for this?" Jim whispered in an almost indignant tone but his voice cracked again. He still stared at the point behind Blair but the young grad student could see a single tear slowly trickling down Jim's cheek. He had really loved her.

Blair stood up. Again, he didn't know how to react. He could deal with an angry, mad, raging Jim but the sudden emotional outburst was something he almost couldn't stand. What kind of friend are you anyway, Sandburg? Standing there like a mute servant...

"How does breakfast sound?" he suggested leaving the room quickly. He didn't want to embarrass his friend any further.

Minutes later Blair had gathered all necessary ingredients to fix breakfast. He opened the kitchen closet to retrieve a frying pan, when Jim entered their small kitchen.

Seeing him coming, Blair put the frying pan down and moved to help Jim who was walking slowly. One hand was pressed into his bandaged side and Blair could read from Jim's face that the movement caused him some pain.

"Hey, Jim, you shouldn't be walking around, buddy," Blair warned gently, taking Jim by the arm and maneouvering him to a nearby chair. "Just sit here til breakfast is ready," he ordered smiling. "Blair..." Jim began, hesitating.

Blair looked up from his breatfast cooking. "Huh?"

Jim twisted his fingers, frightened to ask the question he needed to ask, but he looked Blair straight in the eye when he said: "Blair, is there the possiblity that I am the direct cause of Jody's shooting?" There! The question was out - and he was still alive.

"What do you mean?" Blair asked back.

Jim wanted to take a deep breath but decided not to remembering his injury. "You said she claimed that I had suddenly begun to act strange, violently, that I had been trying to....rape her." The last words came as a whisper, and Blair could clearly feel his friend's confusion and fear of what might have happened...of what he might have almost done.

"No," Blair answered simply.

"No?!" Surprised by the clarity of his Guide's statement Jim raised his eyebrows. "Blair, how can you be so sure? I mean remember Laura and the pheromones thing...What if I couldn't resist this time and my Sentinel abilities, or whatever, were driven insane by her pheromones and I ...." Jim broke and glanced at his roommate, his eyes pleading for help.

Blair shook his head and approached the kitchen table. "Jim, first of all, I know that you would never be able to hurt anyone on purpose...." Jim opened his mouth to interject but Blair raised a hand to stop him. "I know it because you're my friend. That's not an objective statement, you say? Okay, I'll give you a scientific explanation." He paused a second, pacing through the kitchen - a true sign of full concentration. "Jim, provided you sensed her pheromones which I actually doubt because you acted almost 'normal' in comparison to what happened to you when you met Laura." A small smile crossed Jim's face and Blair hurried to continue.

"...provided you sensed them you would have just reacted the same way. Not less, not more." Jim interrupted again. "What the hell makes you so damn sure I'm the good guy here?" he asked unbelieving. The kid trusted him, that's all, Jim thought. That's why he couldn't see the truth. Blair sighed, somewhat frustrated by Jim's stubbornness. He continued carefully, speaking slowly, as if he were explaining a complex math problem to a child.

"I know it, because you're a Sentinel, Jim! Remember Burton's theory? A Sentinel was not only chosen because of his heightened senses, but because he was the most trust-worthy guy around. Call it genetic, Jim, but it is in your system to just be the good guy! A Sentinel had to protect his village, his people and would do that with all his strength....and deep inside yourself you have this protective switch that always gets into gear when lives are at stake. You can't fight it. If you like, call it destiny. But no matter how you look at it - you have a good soul, some sort of basic instinct buried deep inside yourself and more than hundreds of years old." Blair stopped pacing and for the first time he looked at Jim.

The Sentinel spoke at his glance. "So, you're saying I'm Robin Hood?" Finally, Jim's eyes were smiling again, and Blair sighed gratefully.

"Yeah. Something like that."

Blair waited a few moments, and when he assumed Jim was okay, he resumed his position in the kitchen again. "What about breakfast now?" he asked.

Jim nodded, but he put his hands on the table to push himself up, wincing a little. Blair started to help him but Jim just shook his head, saying, "I'm fine." He stood and walked towards the bathroom. "I just need to spend a penny."

*****

There was no sign of Sandburg when Jim returned to the kitchen, but Jim was suddenly feeling weak again and he didn't pay attention to the change. He'd turned all his senses down while in the bathroom - no need to be a hero right now, he thought, walking towards his chair.

He had almost reached it when he suddenly saw a pair of legs lying on the kitchen floor! The rest of Blair's body was hidden by the kitchen counter.

"Blair?!" Jim forced his tired muscles to move.

Jody Waters' voice stopped him after a few steps.

"Nice to see you again, Jim!" She stepped between Jim and his obviously unconscious friend, pointing a gun - the GUN - at Jim's chest.

Jim was startled but he didn't let his face show his surprise. He was famous for his stoicism, so why not prove it right now?

"Sandburg was right I guess," he just said.

Jody didn't lower her gun. Instead she put her finger on the trigger.

"Smart kid," she agreed, her formerly wonderful warm blue eyes shone with cold hate.

"Why?" The question had been nagging at Jim's soul until the gun had gone off and now he demanded an answer. He turned up his hearing and checked on Blair's vitals as he lay on the floor. His ears picked up a steady pulse and satisfactory breathing.

"The English language has a very impressive word for this, Jim," Jody explained calmly. There was nothing about her voice that Jim would remember had attracted him. "Revenge," she spat the word and Jim was almost sure he'd find a wet spot on the floor.

"Revenge?" he snapped. "For what? What could I have done to you?" He knew his chances to fight her gun were marginal but if he was to die he at least wanted to know why.

"Oh, Jimmy, it isn't what you did to me....it's about a very good friend of mine," Jody said. Jim frowned imperceptibly as his sensitive ears picked up a very low moan from his Guide. Blair was coming to.

"Why couldn't your friend fight for himself?" Jim asked hoping she would not hear the treacherous noise. Jody laughed. "She couldn't fight for herself because you destroyed her life! You sent her to prison, although she had a real chance to escape without notice. But you...you were just too good for this world and had to arrest her! Why didn't you let her go!" She almost screamed the last words into his face.

And Jim knew. He knew the name of her friend before she could say it.

"Laura McCarthy," he sighed and grabbed at the chair when a sudden weakness threatened to overcome him. His knees felt like pudding and he was barely able to stand on his feet.

"Yes. Laura and I became friends in prison," Jody continued. "She told me everything about you and your betrayal. Why couldn't you just let her go?" Her voice became even colder.

"Laura committed a crime," Jim replied calmly, watching, out the corner of his eyes, the first movements of Sandburg's legs behind her. "I'm a cop and it was my duty to arrest her." He knew that he couldn't reason with her. Jody had once tried to kill him and she would surely try again.

"Do you think you can go away with his, Jody?" he asked.

She laughed again. "Oh, sure! I am sorry that I failed to kill you the first time. I thought I would only need one shot," Jody shrugged, "..but now I think I'll have to waste another bullet."

She aimed at Jim and he could see her index finger slowly pulling the trigger. He tried to move - run, jump, hit her, anything - but his body refused. Jim looked into her eyes - not pleading for mercy but to make her see his face when she pulled the trigger.

Suddenly Jim sensed a movement behind her and before his brain was able to digest what was about to happen, Sandburg's hand came up swinging the frying pan like a baseball bat! He hit her head and Jody dropped onto the floor like a stone, the gun slipping out of her hands. As it hit the ground the gun went off and the bullet smashed into the wooden kitchen table.

Jim let out a sigh of relief and allowed his legs to give out under him. He seemed to move in slow motion as he slid onto the floor.

"Oh, Jesus!" Blair's voice was trembling with shock when he realized what he had just done. With legs wobbling like a leaf in a storm he walked over to Jim and sat beside him on the floor, his left hand still clutching the frying pan.

"Oh, Jesus," he repeated staring now at Jody's unconscious form in front of them.

Jim opened his mouth to say something when the front door swung open and Simon Banks and Detective Brown - accompanied by two very shy officers named Roth and Snyder - stormed into the loft, guns drawn.

"Jim! Are you all right?" Simon shouted scanning the loft and discovering Jody's limp body on the floor. He put his gun back into his holster and walked over to Jim and Sandburg who were still sitting on the floor.

Jim nodded. Finally, he found his voice and replied, "Yeah, Simon, I'm okay." He leaned against the chair and closed his eyes for a moment allowing the pressure from the events of the night to drain from his body.

"Jody...," he began, but Simon made a dismissive gesture.

"I know, Jim," the Captain said simply.

Jim opened his eyes again and found Simon kneeling beside him and Blair.

"Sandburg?" he asked.

Before the anthropologist could utter a reply, he felt Jim's arm around his shoulder hugging him firmly. "He saved my life, Simon," Jim answered instead and threw Blair a genuine smile of friendship and thanks, tousling his dark curls with one hand.

And Blair returned the smile, exhausted, but happy. Maybe he *was* a hero after all? At least a little one.