Author: Daydreamer
Date: 29 October 2002

Past Tense

The phone rang and Jim lifted it, barking "Ellison." Blair watched as first puzzlement and then a look of concern crossed his face.

"Adam," he said quietly. "It's been a long time. How are you?"

Adam. Blair was wracking his brain, trying to place the name, but he came up blank.

"Tonight?" Jim paused and looked at Blair. "Company for dinner okay with you, Chief?"

More than a little curious, Blair nodded immediately. At least he'd be finding out who this Adam was. Jim gave directions to the loft and then he said good-bye and dropped the phone slowly.

"So," said Blair, "that was Adam."

Jim nodded absently, lost in thought.

"That would be Adam ...?"

No response.

"Jim? Adam who?"

"What? Oh ..." Jim took a moment and stared at his Guide, then said, "Let's take a walk, Chief."

Blair bounced up and headed for the door without a word. Jim wasn't usually this willing to talk about what was on his mind, and he wasn't going to let the older man have any time to reconsider.

Jim sighed, grabbed the younger man's jacket and followed with a rueful smile on his face.

Blair waited on the steps of the station house, rubbing his hands together against the cold, and he dragged on his jacket gratefully when Jim thrust it out.

"So, Jim, buddy -- who's Adam?"

"Guy I knew in the army."

"You were friends?"

Ellison shook his head slowly. "No, not really."

Blair was silent for a moment as the two men walked, then he said, "I don't get it, man. You're not friends, but you invite the guy over? What's going on?"

Jim sighed in the cool morning air. "It's a long story."

"No classes today, man. I got time." Blair shivered slightly and Jim finally focused on his partner.

He steered the other man toward a small diner. "All right. Let's get you out of the cold, Frosty, and I'll tell you a story."

"Story. Cool. I love stories." Blair was rubbing his hands together again, this time like an excited child, and Jim couldn't help but laugh as he gently shoved the younger man through the door.

"This was before Peru, before any of the, you know ..." Jim waved his hand loosely in the air. "Sense stuff."

Blair nodded, then thanked the waitress as she filled his cup with steaming coffee.

"My Special Ops unit was actually doing an internal on another group." He sighed, obviously discomfited by the memory. "Guess it was my first foray into police work. Anyway, we suspected this other outfit of weapons smuggling." Jim looked up and smiled ruefully. "I'm sure this will come as a surprise to you, but the Army actually has quite a few weapons."

"No!" Blair exclaimed in mock surprise.

"And unfortunately, they don't always keep the best records."

"Now that doesn't surprise me either," Blair said. "Scares me, though."

Jim was staring at the dark liquid in his cup, watching the steam swirl lazily above the rim.

"You want something with that, Jim? A donut or something?"

Ellison looked up. "You offering me junk food, Chief?" He looked around, obviously searching for something.

"What?" Blair asked. "What're you looking for?"

"Calendar," Jim said shortly. "Must be a holiday if you're offering junk food, and I don't wanna miss it."

"Oh, fine," Blair said petulantly, playing along with his friend. "Never again, man. Try and do something nice and see what happens. Ridicule and disbelief. Well, let me tell you, it's tofu burgers and algae shakes from here on out, man. You've sealed your fate."

Jim laughed and signaled the waitress. "Two bear claws," he ordered, and laughed again when he saw the look of lust on Blair's face.

"Tell me about the guns, Jim," Blair said quietly when the pastries were in front of them. He picked at his, breaking it off in pieces and swallowing them almost whole. "God, I love these things."

"I know," Jim said as he took a bite of his own. "Guns. Adam. The Army." He sighed heavily. "It's a mess."

"Short version then," Blair said around a mouth full of pastry. "Flesh it out later."

Jim nodded. "Short version. The other unit was stealing the weapons. Degnan -- Adam -- was newly assigned to them. He didn't want to play. They almost killed him. He'd be dead if it hadn't happened the night we planned the raid. We caught them before they could finish. As it was, he took a hell of a beating."

"And you know him how?"

"There were court-martials. The whole unit went down. Degnan testified against them. But there were others involved we hadn't thought about. The customers. They came after Degnan, convinced he knew where the guns were stashed." He looked at Blair as he drained his cup and held it up for a refill. "He didn't, but it made things impossible for him. I don't know why he didn't just change his name and settle somewhere but from what I've heard, he's been sorta nomadic ever since."

Jim took one swallow from his now full cup, looked at the crumbs on both their plates and asked, "You ready?" When Blair nodded, he threw a five on the table and rose, walking swiftly to the door.

"Uh, Jim?" Blair asked breathlessly, when he finally caught up with him halfway down the block. "You still haven't told me why this guy is calling you."

"They're after him again. He's married, wife's pregnant, and he just got a real scare put into him. Several of the guys from the old unit are out, and they've said they're coming after him."

"So, why's he calling you?" "I'm the one that found him last time, got him out before they beat him to death. I'm also the one that proved he didn't know what was going on, and wasn't involved."

"Ah," Blair said quietly, "I see now."

Jim stopped abruptly, fixing the smaller man with a steely stare. "See what, Sandburg?" he growled.

"I see why he's coming to you."

Jim lifted an eyebrow.

"You're his hero, too."

"There were six in the unit -- Grant Holcombe, Trevor Mitchell, Gates Jenkins, Gerry Anderson, Andre Tucker. And, of course, Degnan."

Blair sat at the computer, fingers poised. "You want me to run them all?"

Jim shook his head. "Not necessary. At court-martial, Holcombe and Jenkins were shown to be the ringleaders -- they took the bigger fall. They both went down for treason, punishable by death."

"Are they ...?" the younger man asked quietly.

"Not to my knowledge. I think there are still appeals pending, some of which have to do with the missing weapons."

"So you're thinking only Mitchell, Anderson, or Tucker would be responsible for the threats?"

Jim nodded. "They each got 15 years for theft of government property."

"And they're out now?" Blair's nimble fingers danced across the keyboard.

"From what Degnan said, he's had calls, letters, even a couple of notes left on his car, telling him that he'd regret his testimony." Jim stretched, hands at his back as he arched in an attempt to relieve the tension of leaning over Sandburg's shoulder to see the screen.

Blair hit 'enter,' and sat back to wait as his inquiry skittered off through cyberspace. "I still don't understand what these guys want with your friend." He looked up in time to see Jim wince at the word 'friend,' and hastily amended it with, "...with Degnan."

"There was some controversy -- part of why Degnan thinks he owes me so much. Two shipments of weapons disappeared on his watch -- when he was the only one with access. Mitchell and Anderson were convinced Degnan had gone out on his own."

"But you're not?" Blair moved the mouse, keeping the screen saver from kicking in.

"I know he wasn't involved. I did all the legwork to clear him. He was there that night, but there was a second door to Weapons Storage and Holcombe and Jenkins both had keys. Even without keys, someone determined could have gotten in."

"Wasn't that the point of standing watch?" Blair looked up with a teasing smile on his face. "Isn't that what you guys do? March back and forth and prevent unauthorized entry?" His smile blossomed to a grin as he watched Jim unconsciously straighten up into a more rigid posture. Just talking about his military time had that effect on the Sentinel.

"Well, yeah, that is part of standing watch. But you don't question the CO." Ellison shrugged. "Holcombe could have come in; so could the XO, Jenkins."

"And Degnan doesn't remember this?"

"He doesn't remember anyone hauling the boxes of weapons out, no." Jim scratched his head as he looked at his partner.

"So, Jim, about these weapons ..." Blair began. He was interrupted as the computer sputtered to life and confirmation that Mitchell, Anderson, and Tucker had, indeed, been released splashed across the screen.

Jim read the report quickly, then grunted in acknowledgement. "You were saying?" he prompted the younger man.

"Aren't guns from 15 years ago a little out of date?"

"Not to some of the third world nations we suspect Holcombe was dealing with." Ellison lowered his voice. "And it wasn't all guns. There were some anti-personnel mines and other more classified items that went missing."

Blair nodded. "So there's reason for these guys to want to know where the stuff is? It's worth something?"

It was Jim's turn to nod. "And these guys, Mitchell, Anderson, and Tucker? They're naive enough to think that their CO and XO would steal the other stuff but not this? And that Degnan, the one who testified against them, would?"

"Holcombe tried hard to pin it all on Adam. And he might have succeeded. There was a strong circumstantial trail that led right to Degnan. The fact that he was so new to the unit and he was of fairly low rank -- a Lieutenant -- were major dissuading factors when we were trying to convince the tribunal that he wasn't guilty." Jim paused a moment, lost in the past. "And the fact that the other guys were beating the shit out of him when we raided the warehouse -- that carried some weight as well."

Blair gave a half-smile. "Glad to know the Army places value on a good beating ..."

Jim cuffed him lightly, smiling back.

"What do you think is going on, Jim?" Blair asked.

"One of two things has happened. Holcombe and Jenkins came up with some sort of plan -- God knows they've had time to work on it -- and the unholy trio are implementing it."

"Or they're working on their own -- looking for the weapons as a way to make a quick buck."

"You got it," Ellison said grimly. "Or," he paused as a third alternative presented itself, "there's a third party orchestrating all of it. Maybe one of Holcombe's old contacts. They found out the boys are out and know the goods are still up for grabs. Put on a little pressure to produce, and any one of our three could have decided to come down on Degnan."

"What's next?" Blair's fingers were poised again, ready to type as Jim spoke.

"DMV. Social Security. IRS. Anywhere these guys may have registered. We need to know where they are and what they're doing."

A sharp rap on the door announced their visitors' arrival. Jim crossed the loft floor and opened the door. "Degnan. Long time no see."

Adam Degnan reached out and shook the offered hand. He held on tightly for a moment and then stepped away. Behind him stood a beautiful, very pregnant, dark-haired woman. "Jim, this is my wife, Marie."

"Hello, Marie. Nice to meet you." He was slightly shocked when she reached out and hugged him. Jim stared at her for a moment. "Have we met?"

She laughed lightly. "No, but you looked like you could use a hug."

"Oh, yes. Marie? Adam? Come on in." He turned them towards the kitchen, where Blair was wiping his hands on a towel. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Blair walked toward them and shook both Adam and Marie's hands. "Hi, I'm glad to meet you."

"Come on, sit down." Jim led them into the living room.

"Actually, could you point me to the bathroom? These days I can't wait very long ..."

"Oh, yes, of course." Blair led Marie to the bathroom and then came back and sat beside Jim in the loveseat.

Jim lowered his voice. "How long have you and Marie ...?"

Degnan smiled. "Marie and I, we've been married almost two years now."

"Hey, that's great. Just great. Congratulations. I'd heard you'd been traveling a lot. Glad you finally settled down. And when's the baby due?"

"Baby's due within a couple of weeks. Which I've been told translates to any day now." His eyes sought the closed bathroom door and he smiled. "She's going to be a great mom." He dropped his head for a minute, then lifted it to meet Jim's eyes. "Look, Ellison, she doesn't know what's going on. I told her we were old friends."

"What does she think you're doing in Cascade?"

"I told her I wanted to settle here. I got an offer on a job." He turned his head as Marie approached and smiled and held out his hand. She grasped it as she lowered herself next to him onto the couch.

"What's the job? Are you going to take it?" Jim asked.

"A buddy of mine's opened up a climbing school. He's doing really well and if I take the job, I'll be one of his instructors."

"Well, that sounds like quite a gig. Be a change from what you were doing?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, but it'll be good for both of us and the baby. Something normal. The other thing ... " Degnan became quiet. "Marie's been wonderful about my wanderlust, following me all over the damn country for two years and living on minimum wage when we could get it. Now with the baby on the way ... we've got too much to lose. We both just want some stability. Guess I've moved around enough."

Marie nodded. "And Adam will be happy doing this. He'll keep decent hours and we'll be able to spend more quality time together. I'll probably stay home with the baby for the first couple of years. We can do that and still be comfortable. And of course, it will give Adam a chance to be near his old friend." She laughed again, smiling as she looked at her husband.

"Great. Good. Glad to hear that." Jim ran his hand through his hair. "It'll be, uh, good to have you two nearby. We can always use more friends nearby, right, Chief?"

Blair watched his partner closely, acutely aware of how uncomfortable he was with all this. Marie seemed aware of it as well, and her smile faltered a bit. But Blair jumped in gamely. "Of course. We're glad you came by tonight." He smiled. "So, do you know what you're having yet?" He nodded at Marie's rounded belly.

"Um, no. We thought about it and weren't in any hurry to know. Although, people are always guessing."

Without thinking, Jim rose and moved to her, his hand reaching out toward her belly. When he realized what he was doing, he froze and stepped back awkwardly. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay, Jim." Marie smiled at him and reached out and took his hand. "Here. Feel that?"

Jim nodded, the look on his face the closest to shyness that Blair had ever seen. He knelt at Marie's feet. Blair could see that Jim was concentrating, sending his sense of touch and hearing beneath Marie's shirt and layers of skin and muscle.

Jim focused, zeroing in on the sounds and movements inside the woman. He could hear Blair and Adam murmur in the distance but he couldn't make out what they were saying. He was fascinated by what he felt and heard in Marie's abdomen. A tiny, rapid heartbeat; fluids displaced by the movement of the baby's limbs; a sense of how small the life was; it all came together to form an image in Jim's mind. Precious. Their baby was so precious. He could listen to the baby all night.

He looked up at Marie and found her looking down at him in rapt attention. Her eyes smiled at him. "What is it, Jim?" she whispered. "What are you hearing?"

Jim put his other hand on her belly, keeping his eyes locked with hers. She knew. She suspected something. But Jim felt no threat from her. She seemed just as fascinated by Jim as he was by the baby.

Blair and Adam's conversation dropped off as they became aware of the whispers coming from Marie.

"Jim," she whispered again, "what is it? What are we having? Can you tell?"

Eyes still locked with Marie's, his face flushed, Jim whispered. "A girl. You're having a girl."

"What? How do you know that?" Adam asked but Marie stilled his words by placing her hand on top of his.

"Jim knows," Marie said. "He just does." She just seemed to accept it and didn't ask any questions about how, intuiting how much faith Jim placed in them by admitting that he knew and that he would be extremely uncomfortable with further questions.

Adam deferred to Marie's judgment and didn't ask questions; just watched as Jim's eyes drifted closed, both of his hands still on his wife's stomach.

He looked at Blair questioningly and after a couple of minutes, Blair spoke softly. "Jim? Hey, buddy, come on back." He leaned forward and touched Jim's shoulder briefly and Jim's eyes flew open. "We've got company." Jim blinked for a moment and his hands flew off Marie's belly as he realized what he was still doing.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Jim." Marie touched his hand. "Thank you for caring so much."

"I ..." He looked at Blair, shaken. Not sure what had led him to reveal so much of himself. Blair seemed at a loss himself, but not uncomfortable or overly concerned.

Marie stroked Jim's shoulder. "It's all right, Jim. We're not going to ask any questions or say anything. You just have a gift, I think. And we're pleased that you chose to share it with us." She looked at Adam and he nodded at her.

"How did you ...?" Jim stopped short and looked right into her eyes. "You're an extraordinary person."

She laughed. "Thanks, but Adam can tell you some stories that might just change your mind."

The laugh seemed to shake Jim out of whatever mood he was in and he stood. Embarrassed, ready to change the subject and get the attention off himself, he asked, "So are we ready for dinner? Blair made his specialty -- vegetarian lasagna."

"That was wonderful, Blair!" Marie leaned back and delicately patted her tummy. "I'm sorry I couldn't eat more." She grinned up at the anthropologist. "There's just not a lot of storage space available in there at the moment. Even for something as delicious as your lasagna."

"You want anything else, babe?" Adam asked. "A drink, something sweet?"

"Ooooh," Marie giggled slightly. "Something sweet." She blushed and looked down at her abdomen. "Our little lady might enjoy some ice cream. I mean, if you have any, and if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all," Blair said with a bow. "None in the house, but we can run down to the market real quick ..."

"Heavens no," Marie said quickly. "There is no way I am going to let you make a trip to the store for me." She blushed. "I'm sorry I said anything."

"Don't be," Adam said quickly as he knelt before his wife and took her hand. "Jim and Blair don't mind." He looked up. "Do you guys?"

"Not at all," said Jim. "I wouldn't mind some ice cream myself."

"Look, Marie," Adam began when he saw she was still uncomfortable, "why don't you and Jim stay here? I'll get Blair to go with me, so I don't get lost, and we'll be back in no time at all."

"It's a done deal, man," Blair said as he grabbed his jacket from his room and followed Degnan to the door. "You guys can talk about the baby," he called back over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.

"So, Blair," Adam said as he unlocked the car. "Ellison tell you about me?"

Blair nodded. "You want to tell me about it?"

"Not much to tell. I could be dead, wasn't for Jim Ellison."

Blair cleared his throat. "You think a lot of him."

Degnan laughed. "Oh, yeah." He looked over at Blair. "Don't feel uncomfortable. I know he doesn't feel that way about me."

"You wanna tell me why?"

Degnan shrugged. "After I got out, Ellison must have set me up with half a dozen jobs, all over the county. I don't know what he had to do, who he had to reach out to, but he must have exhausted every contact he had." The man reached up and wiped his face. "Every time I surfaced, there'd be somebody there offering me a job, telling me Jim Ellison set it up." The flush on Degnan's face was visible under the streetlight as he parked outside the market. "And I just kept fucking it up." He shook his head. "But Ellison wouldn't quit. It took me almost three years to drive him away."

"Jim doesn't give up easily." Blair waited as Degnan locked the car then they walked toward the store. "Why'd you give him such a hard time, if all he wanted to do was help?"

Degnan ran his hand over his face, then pushed the door open and entered the brightly lit store. The contrast from night to light was shocking and both men blinked. "Damned if I know. I just know there wasn't something right with me for a long time. Maybe that beating I took messed me up more than I knew. Or having to give up the Army, the only career I'd ever thought about. I just don't know." He stopped in the aisle, turning to stare at Blair. "All I know is, Marie put me together again. She saw something in me that was worthwhile. And I'm not going to let anything threaten her -- or our child." He swallowed hard. "And I know that if anyone can protect her -- it's Jim Ellison."

Marie watched from her seat at the table as Jim finished the last dish. She'd offered to help, but had been firmly told 'no' and so she had compromised by keeping the clean- up crew company.

She'd told him about any number of mundane things, the move to Cascade, how she'd met Adam, her degree in History and her hopes to someday teach. And he'd talked about joining the force after the Army, how he'd come to have his police observer partner for a roommate, and why he missed meat in his lasagna but tolerated it for Blair.

They'd talked about everything but the important things. And Marie was tired of the small talk. "So, Jim," she said quietly as he placed a cup of tea before her, "why don't you like Adam?"

The big detective choked on his coffee, hot liquid spluttering out of his mouth as he rose and moved to the sink. The front of his shirt was dark from the coffee, and it burned. He lifted the wet dishrag and sponged gently at the stain, then decided to excuse himself and change his shirt.

He was upstairs, the dirty shirt stripped off as he dragged a clean one from the dresser when he heard the sound. Footsteps on the stairs outside the loft. He stilled for a moment, reaching out to listen for the familiar beat of his partner's heart, for the scent that was as well-known to him as his own, but it was not there.

There was a knock.

A puzzled expression on his face, he grabbed the shirt and hurried to the stairs in time to see Marie throw the door open, crying, "Adam!" She froze in the doorway as he raced down, only to find her held tight in the grip of a strange man, a knife against her belly.

He stopped, standing motionless, as the man looked up and nodded. "Very good."

"Anderson!" Jim recognized the man. He was one of the group of weapons thieves he'd helped catch; one of the men recently released from Leavenworth. "Let her go!" Jim could hear Marie's heart race, and beneath it, the rapid beats of the baby's heart.

"I don't think so." He tightened his grip on Marie's arm, and she uttered a little cry. "Where's Degnan?"

"Stop!" Jim was afraid to move, afraid to do anything. The knife was too close, pressed too hard against the fragile skin protecting the still unborn life Marie carried. He forced himself to take several deep breaths, reaching for control. He couldn't afford to make a mistake here. He already knew how dangerous Anderson could be. "What do you want?" he said in a low voice.

"I want to know where Degnan is."

"He'll be back any minute -- as will my partner."

"Well, that's a shame." He pulled Marie closer, and Jim could see the pain on the woman's face. "I don't think I want to wait for them." He looked around the loft, then nodded at Jim. "Get your cuffs, Ellison," he ordered.

Jim didn't move for a moment, weighing the odds but yet another small cry from Marie had him moving and within seconds he returned with the shiny steel held out before him.

"Cuff yourself. Hands behind your back."

Jim did as he was told.

"Now," said Anderson, "we're going to walk out of here, down the stairs and get in the car." He jerked his head at Jim. "You're not going to give me any trouble or I'm going to see what brand this baby is." He punctuated his words with a quick press of the wrist and Jim could see the fabric of Marie's shirt give, and a small line of blood appeared in the gap.

"Get in front of her," Anderson said, as he backed away slightly to allow Jim to move forward. "Now, you," he spoke to Marie, "take the cuffs in your hands and hold onto him."

"He's going to freeze without a shirt. Please, let him get his jacket."

Anderson shook his head. "Move."

They passed no one on the way down and were soon at a nondescript car parked on the side of the building. With one hand still holding the knife against Marie's abdomen, Anderson opened the trunk and motioned Jim in.

Ellison moved slowly, looking desperately for his partner, or anyone who could help, but the street was empty on this cold winter night. He climbed in the trunk as ordered, shivering in the frigid air, and shifted uncomfortably to avoid laying on his arms that were cuffed behind his back.

Once he was inside, Anderson stared down for a moment, saying, "Do you have any idea what prison is like, Ellison? What I went through in there?" He smiled a shark-like smile as he slammed the trunk, and even without his Sentinel hearing, Jim could hear the man say, "Well, you're going to find out."

"That's weird," Blair commented as he opened the unlocked door to the loft. "Jim's pretty insistent on keeping things locked up." He looked around the quiet room and called, "Hey, we're back! Ice cream!"

There was no answer.

"Jim?" Blair moved to the stairs and called again, "Jim!"

"Bathroom?" Adam asked and Blair pointed, not surprised when Adam reappeared seconds later shaking his head. With Jim's hearing, he'd have heard them on the stairs, never mind the calling he'd done inside the loft.

"Do you think he took her to the hospital?" Adam asked. "I mean, she's so close ..."

Blair shook his head. "I don't think so. He'd have called me." He moved to the window and looked down. "And his truck's still there."

Adam's face slowly morphed into a mask of fear. "Oh, dear God," he said slowly, "they've got her."

Blair nodded grimly. "I think you might be right." He picked up the phone, punching in numbers as familiar as his own name. "And I think we need to get some help over here -- fast."

Jim woke up slowly. He was laying face down on bare concrete and he was cold. His feet and knees had been taped together and he was having trouble getting enough leverage to roll himself over. He shivered violently, struggling for a last clear memory. He'd been in the trunk, and they'd driven for about 20 minutes. The car had stopped. He'd heard Marie's swift intake of air as she'd been pulled from the car. She'd begged them to release him -- she was worried he'd freeze if left in the car.

And then there had been a sound from inside the car, and an odor, and before he'd drawn a second breath, he was out.

Now he was awake again. His head hurt, his mind felt foggy, and his senses were spiking. Total silence one second, a loud cacophony the next. Blurred vision that shifted from too intense to grayed out. He felt numb one second, and then could feel the individual grains of sand in the concrete the next. And had he mentioned the cold?

He shivered again, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting for control. He needed Blair. It was always easier when his Guide was there, talking him through it. But he was on his own this time, and he struggled to bring things back the way they should by himself.

His hearing smoothed out, and he heard a voice. " ... I do?" He shifted awkwardly and was able to see Marie, leaning over and talking to him. "Jim? What can I do?"

He tried to speak, but his voice wouldn't cooperate and his lips moved in silence. He took a moment, then swallowed hard, and tried again. "Are you okay?"

She nodded quickly, but her hand moved protectively over her abdomen. Jim listened, counting. Marie's heartbeat was a little fast, but she was remarkably calm considering their situation. And the little one? Her heart beat steadily, the same rapid little beats that had so enraptured him earlier. As he listened, he heard the water in the womb shift, as if a wave had passed through, but it was gone as quickly as it had begun. The baby's heart continued to beat so he pushed the thought away. And then his hearing spiked and he winced painfully, closing his eyes again.

"Jim?" Marie whispered. "I'm not sure what's happening with you, but you need to try and relax." She gave a delicate little snort, as she looked pointedly at his cuffed hands. "Can you focus on me for a bit? Just listen to me." Her hand came out and she touched him lightly, almost as if she knew his sense of touch was super-sensitized. He latched onto her voice, listening to her, but hearing Blair. "Dial it down, man. Just see the dial, and turn it down."

It took a few minutes, but things began to settle down. His hearing backed down to within norms. His vision settled and the unbearable touch of the concrete against his bare skin became tolerable. All that was left was the cold. "I'm all right," he said finally as he looked up at Marie. "What about you? Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head slowly. "No ..."

Jim jerked his head at the cut on her belly. "What about that? Are you sure?"

"No, really, I'm okay. It's just ..." Again, her voice trailed away, as if she were afraid to complete the thought.

"What?" he asked gently.

"The baby." Marie was silent, one hand resting on her belly. "I thought I felt something, but it was different. The baby -- she hasn't moved." She looked at Jim. "Is she ...? Can you tell?"

Jim's face went blank, his natural reaction to anything related to his Sentinel abilities, and he saw her face fall.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, turning away. "I shouldn't have asked."

He squirmed uncomfortably, shifting yet again on the frigid concrete. "No, it's okay," he said. "She's fine."

"You're sure?" Marie turned back to him, her eyes pleading for reassurance.

He nodded. "Yeah. I checked first thing. On both of you."

"You can do that? No, never mind." Marie laughed as she looked away. "I don't want to know." Her hand traced the contours of her distended abdomen and she hummed a snippet of a lullaby as she disengaged from him for a moment and focused completely on the life she carried. Then she looked at Jim. "Do you want me to help you sit up?" She moved next to him, reaching out tentatively. "Is it all right to touch you? You've got to get off the floor."

"Help me roll over," he said, as he pushed sideways and flopped over onto his back. "If you can just pull my shoulders a bit, I can sit up." She did and his bare torso was finally off the cold floor. "Where are we?"

She straightened and wandered toward the door. "Some warehouse." She shrugged. "I don't know the area, so I don't know where. We were only in the car about twenty minutes, so it can't be too far away."

"Sandburg will be looking for us. As soon as they got back and saw we weren't there, I know Sandburg. He'll have called Simon and the whole damn Cascade force will be out searching for us." He tried to smile. "And they're good. It won't take long. They'll find us."

Marie nodded, then touched her belly. "Good. Because I want this one's dad to be around when she makes her appearance."

"You're not ...? I mean, didn't Degnan -- Adam -- say you had a couple more weeks?"

"Well, yes, I do have a couple more weeks." She moved to the door, pushing against it futilely. "But babies don't necessarily follow timetables."

"I assume you've looked for a way out?" he asked as she continued to wander.

She nodded. "He didn't tie me up, or hurt me other than this." She touched the cut on her tummy. "Guess he doesn't consider me much of a threat."

Jim smiled up at her. "I think he's made a mistake there. You strike me as a woman who can be very threatening, when the need arises."

She laughed again, and Jim could see why Degnan had worked so hard to straighten himself out to be with this woman. "Thanks," she said. "Though why I should care what this son of a bitch thinks of me is beyond me."

"You find anything we can use to get this tape off my legs?"

Marie held up her fingernails. "I just haven't started because, to be honest, I'm not sure I can get back up once I sit down. I thought I might be more use on my feet until you woke up."

"Can you get down all right?"

"Oh, yeah," Marie said as she dropped to her knees. Her hands came down next and she was on her hands and knees. Jim watched curiously. "I can get down, but it's not the most graceful of moves." She shifted her weight, slipping onto her hip and then rolling back until she was sitting and Jim had to laugh. Thankfully, she joined him. "See what I mean?"

"Just get the tape off, and I'll help you back up."

She began to pick at the tape. "Don't see how. I can't do anything about the cuffs on your hands."

"Don't worry, I'll help you up." He shivered again; the cold had seeped into his very bones and he knew he needed to warm up fast. He was already growing tired, and he wasn't thinking as quickly as he usually did.

"You're cold," she said, as she worked on the tape. "I looked for anything -- blanket, tarp, old rags -- anything to wrap you in, but there's nothing."

"Doesn't matter," he said. "I'll be okay."

She smiled. "Now how did I know you'd say that?" She had the first edge of the shiny silver tape up now, and was unwinding it around his knees. "So, while we sit here, are you going to answer my question?"

"What question is that?"

"Why don't you like Adam?" The first piece of tape was off, and she began to work on the edge of the next one.

"It's not that." Jim sighed, then shivered in the cold. The shivering was growing more frequent as his body sought to create its own heat through movement. "What did Degnan tell you about me?"

"Well, let me put it this way: what he told me led me to believe you'd call him Adam, not Degnan." She made a triumphant little sound as the next piece of tape came off. "I thought you were friends."

"I tried to be his friend. He wouldn't let me." Jim watched her hands as she worked the last piece of tape from around his ankles.

"He said you saved his life."

Jim shook his head. "I was just in the right time at the right place." He studied Marie as she continued to pick at the tape. "I think you saved his life."

She smiled as the tape came off and he was free to move his legs and feet. She shook her head as she watched him climb to his feet. "I was just in the right place at the right time."

Jim leaned over. "Put your arms around my neck and hang on."

She complied and he straightened, pulling her easily from the floor. "Very smooth, Detective Ellison," she said. "Thank you."

"And thank you for getting my legs loose." He began to prowl the room, searching for a way out. He'd made the circuit three times, when he stopped and looked at Marie. She was standing still, her hands on her belly and a look of intense concentration on her face. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." She lifted eyes heavy with worry to stare at him. "Let me," he said, and he moved to stand in front of her. "But, Marie," he cautioned as he turned his back and let his hands rest against her abdomen, "don't let me listen too long. I can get ... lost."

She nodded, a move he felt rather than saw and then he began to extend. The baby was there -- secure in her cocoon of fluid. That peculiar wave motion occurred again, but the baby never stirred. Her little heart beat rapidly, but Jim sensed that this was normal for one so small. There was movement, but only the slightest as she sucked her thumb in her sleep. He smiled, completely enraptured and time began to lose all meaning.

He had no idea how long he'd been listening to the baby when he began to hear a voice. "Jim, Jim! Please, wake up!" He shook himself groggily, then gave a full body shudder as his awareness of the cold returned.

" 'm sorry," he mumbled, and watched as she gave a sigh of relief. He shook himself and stepped away from her, somehow missing the touch of her hand on his arm, but forcing his feet to move nonetheless. "She's fine," he said, smiling as he turned around. "There's like this internal wave maker, rocking her. She's sucking her thumb and she's sleeping."

"Sucking her thumb? You can see that?" There was a look of wonder on Marie's face.

"Not really see," Jim muttered uncomfortably. "I can sorta hear it, feel it."

He stepped a few more feet away, taking time to regain his control, checking his dials, and wishing his Guide were there. He turned and looked at Marie. "This man Anderson is dangerous."

"I know," she said calmly, her hands on her belly and a soft smile on her face. "He wants something Adam doesn't have."

"Do you know what he wants?"

She shook her head. "I just know Adam. He doesn't have anything someone like this man would want." She looked up at Jim. "He's honest, Jim. He's a good, kind, caring, *honest* man. He got a little lost for a while, but he's okay now. And he'd never have anything to do with someone like Anderson."

"I know," Jim agreed. "That was what got him in trouble to begin with. He wouldn't go along with the rest of his unit's illegal activities."

"So why is this man after him?"

"There were several caches of weapons that were never recovered. Worth millions." Jim shrugged. "Maybe Anderson thinks Degnan knows where they are." He shook his head. He was really getting tired. It was the cold. He began to pace, anything to keep moving, to stay awake. "How long was I out, anyway?" he asked.

Marie raised her hands, up and out, and looked at Jim blankly. "I really don't know. A couple of hours, maybe?"

"So we've been gone about three hours." Jim kept moving. "They'll be looking by now. There'll be people on the street, canvassing. Someone had to have seen something. People don't just crawl into the trunk of a car. They'll find someone who saw it."

"And?"

"And they'll get a description of the car. You said yourself we didn't drive long. The cops will be out looking for the car. They'll find it, they'll find us."

"I hope so." Marie glanced at the door. "This whole situation is frightening."

Jim moved to stand by her, wishing yet again his hands were free. He looked into her eyes. "I know this is frightening, but we are going to get out. I promise you."

She laughed and there was a brittle edge to it this time. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to make promises you can't keep?"

"I'll keep this one." Jim began his pacing again, fighting to keep the shivers at bay.

"Anderson had a bottle of scotch in the car." Marie reached around and rubbed the small of her back. "He wasn't the most pleasant person sober -- I really don't want to see him drunk."

Jim nodded. So that accounted for where the man had disappeared to. Perhaps he'd get drunk enough to pass out and by the time he woke up, Simon and Sandburg would be here and it would all be over.

There was a sound outside and the door opened. Anderson stood unsteadily in the doorway, a gun in his hand.

Jim sighed. And perhaps pigs would fly.

"And then, when we got back, they were gone," Blair raised his hands in confusion as he spoke.

Simon narrowed his eyes and stared at Degnan. "And you have no idea what's going on?"

"I didn't say that," the other man replied slowly. "I just said I didn't know who would have taken them." He stood and walked to the windows, looking down. "I have several theories ..."

"Well, spit 'em out!" Simon commanded.

"Look, I told you about the guns, about the situation when I was in the Army. Several of the guys who were in my unit were recently released from Leavenworth."

"Names," Simon demanded. "Give me the names."

"Gerry Anderson -- Gerald. Andre Tucker. Trevor Mitchell."

"Locations?"

Degnan shrugged. "Could be anywhere." His eyes were haunted as he looked at Simon. "Including Cascade. I told you I came here, not just because I had the job offer, but because I was getting these letters ... Threats to me, to my family -- as if these guys knew I was married, knew Marie was pregnant." He shook himself, closing his eyes briefly. "No names on the letters, and they were sent through one of those remailing centers, so no idea of the real origin either." He turned back to the window, watching as it began to snow. "I knew Ellison could find out -- knew he'd know what to do. But I never even had a chance to talk to him about it ..."

Blair walked over to the anguished man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We'll find them," he promised.

The door to the loft opened and Brown strode in. "Finally," he said. "Found a witness. Woman saw Jim get into the trunk of a car," he looked at this watch, "about three hours ago. Didn't think anything of it because, and I quote, 'that man is always doing the strangest things, him and his roommate, too,' end quote."

"Description of the car?"

"Yeah," Brown said, "and it was pretty good, too. I've already put it on the wires." He smiled grimly. "If it's still on the road, we'll find it."

"You," Anderson pointed at Marie, "come with me."

Jim could smell the alcohol on the man but his voice was clear and he held the gun steady. He stepped forward, standing between the woman and their abductor. "What do you want with her?"

Anderson grinned. "Whaddaya think, Ellison? Been in Leavenworth 15 years ..."

Marie gave a little gasp and backed away, stopping against the far wall.

Jim lowered his voice. "Have you looked at her, shithead?"

Anderson nodded. "Doesn't bother me none." He waved the gun, and said loudly, "I said come here."

Marie didn't move.

Jim looked back over his shoulder. She was huddled against the wall, both hands curled around her abdomen, and she looked as if she were in pain. He turned back to Anderson. "Wouldn't you rather talk to me?" he said. "I might have some insights on where the guns are ..."

"Insights aren't what I want right now," the man said lewdly as he rubbed his crotch.

Jim took a deep breath and looked at the woman. Her whole focus had turned inward; she was shutting them out and concentrating solely on her child. Her hands rubbed her belly and she was humming again. He was not going to let this asshole take her from his sight.

"You'll like my insights better than anything she could offer," he said abruptly, moving a few steps closer to the man with the gun.

Anderson shrugged. "Nothing new for me. Prison. Fifteen years." His eyes narrowed as he stared at Jim. "And you so hot for it ..." He shrugged again. "Come on," he said, stepping back and waving Jim through the door.

"Marie," Jim called, but there was no answer. "Marie, he tried again, "I'm coming back."

She blew out suddenly, a 'whuff' of air, and tightened her grip on her belly. "Probably a good idea, Jim," she said softly. "Think I'm gonna need some help."

"That's the third false alarm," Blair said in disgust. "Why the hell couldn't Mrs. Stevens have gotten more than a partial plate?"

"We're lucky she got that," Simon said from the driver's seat. "And there are a helluva lot of more dark blue, late-model Ford Tauruses with MS in the plate than I would have imagined."

"What do we do now?" Adam asked from the back seat. His face was pale and he had his arms wrapped around his chest, hugging himself. "What do we do?"

Blair turned around. "She's okay, Adam," he said softly. "You know Jim. He's the Protector. He'd die before he'd let anything happen to her." And added silently to himself, 'Which is exactly what I'm afraid of.'

He forced himself to stay conscious, not to dial everything down to the point where he would feel nothing at all. He was afraid of what would happen if he did that.

It was hard.

There were rough hands touching him, and then there was pain, and a wet tongue on his face, his ear, his back. Weight on his back, pain in his arms and shoulders where his hands were held behind him, beneath the man's weight.

He fought at first, but then Anderson hit him with something on his arm, and he thought the arm was broken. It scared him and he stopped fighting. He couldn't afford to be killed, not now, not while this bastard still had the woman.

He lay as still as possible, endurance and survival his only thought and prayed that the damage wouldn't incapacitate him.

It was over much more quickly than he would have imagined. He'd counted, so he knew it took Anderson exactly 673 seconds, from start to finish.

Six hundred, seventy three.

And he had been acutely awake and aware of what happened during each of those 673 seconds.

But he hadn't given in.

He was still alive.

He could still function.

There was still hope.

He rose when Anderson commanded it, and suffered the indignity of having the man pull up his pants, zip them, button the top button, and fix his belt. He stared at a point in space over the man's shoulder, jaw clenched, while this was occurring.

"That arm looks bad," Anderson said as he prodded Jim from behind.

The gun pushed into his back and he began to move. When they reached the door, Anderson pushed it open then told him to stop.

He stopped.

"Guess it's time for me to call Degnan," Anderson said. "Let him know I've got his wife and he can have her back when I get the guns."

There was a fumbling at his wrist, and the cuffs were off, and he was being shoved through the door and falling onto the floor as the door slammed behind him. He tried, but he couldn't stop the short gasp of pain that escaped as he fell on the broken arm.

"Jim!" Marie exclaimed as he fell.

He looked up through a haze of pain and saw her still by the far wall, but sitting on the floor now. She was panting, and he could see the pain on her face as she was suddenly convulsed by a contraction.

Oh, God, no! Not this! He looked around frantically for anything to help with the birth. He had no blankets, no towels, nothing of any kinds.

He turned and pounded on the door. "Anderson! Anderson!" He kept pounding and screaming and was soon rewarded with a gun in his face. He pointed at Marie. "Baby -- now."

Anderson shrugged.

"Give me a blanket, something. Please, you son of a bitch!"

The door shut and Jim groaned. He looked back at Marie. Her face was bathed in sweat and she was once again in the grip of a contraction. He could see her jaw work as she fought to keep from crying out. She breathed hard through her teeth, and when the pain eased, she looked up at him. "It's gonna be soon, Jim. I'm starting to feel like I need to push."

"Don't push," he ordered, his medical training kicking in. He was starting to take his pants off -- he had to have something to wrap the baby in -- when the door opened again.

Anderson looked at him and laughed. "Just couldn't get enough, eh Ellison?" He shoved two blankets through the door and was gone.

Jim felt the rush of heat to his face, shoved the emotion aside, and grabbed the blankets. Working with just one hand, one arm, he helped Marie rise, remove her pants, and then lowered her again to the floor, now covered with a blanket.

"Have to push!" she panted.

"Not yet." He pushed her legs up, and then looked. The head was crowning. "Wait for the next one, Marie," he told her. "You can push then."

She nodded. Her hair was plastered to her face, and sweat dripped down her cheeks. Her eyes closed in pain as she dug her fingers into the blanket and clenched her teeth. "Now," she breathed, and began to push.

"Good," Jim said as he watched the baby move forward. "Again." He held his broken left arm to his chest, and touched the baby's head with his right. "Head's out. Push again -- hard. You need to get the shoulders through."

She drew a deep breath and groaned as she began to push again.

The shoulders emerged, and Jim grasped the slippery baby and pulled, frantic that he wasn't doing this right, that he'd drop her, that he couldn't support the head with just one hand. Somehow, he managed to get the baby out and he tugged her away from Marie's body, gaining some play in the cord, then laid her on her mother's stomach.

He rubbed her feet and she began to cry, clearing her lungs. The sound was music to his ears. "You okay?" he asked the new mother softly.

She nodded. "She's beautiful."

Jim looked at the wet, bloody, squalling little creature and sighed. "Yeah, she is."

He lifted Marie's pants and managed to wrap the baby with them, then covered them both with the other blanket Anderson had provided.

"What now?" Marie asked, her eyes threatening to close as exhaustion overtook her.

Jim looked around the room. "We've got to get you to the hospital."

There was a sound at the door and he moved quickly to stand behind it. He pulled the belt from his pants, fashioned a loop with one-hand, and waited. When the door opened this time, he was ready.

He slammed the door shut, then yanked it open, dropping the noose he'd made around the neck of -- Simon!

"For Christ's sake, Ellison! Get this thing off me!"

"Yes, Sir! Sorry, Sir." Jim dropped the belt as Adam raced past them to go to his wife. "What's the situation, Ellison?"

Blair slipped through the doorway and moved to stand by his Sentinel. "His arm's broken, Simon," he said as he ran a gentle hand along the injured arm.

"I'm all right," Jim said, shaking off Blair's touch. He ignored the hurt look on the younger man's face. "She needs to get to a hospital."

"The baby?"

"They're both okay, but I haven't delivered the placenta, and she's bleeding. Couldn't cut the cord, either."

"Paramedics are on their way." Simon looked around the room. "You okay here, til they come?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Simon."

Blair snorted and reached out to touch Jim again, but the older man dodged and backed away. Once again, he ignored the look of confusion on Sandburg's face.

"Did you get Anderson?" Jim asked through clenched teeth.

Simon shook his head. "The car was still out front -- that's how we found you -- but no one else is here."

Jim shivered and Blair skinned out of his jacket, slipping it over the bigger man's shoulder.

"Thanks, Chief," Jim said as he once again backed away from Blair's touch.

There were sirens from the outside and soon the room was filled with paramedics. Marie was lifted to a gurney. The baby's cord was cut, the afterbirth delivered, and the cleaned and swaddled baby girl was placed in her mother's arms while her father looked on adoringly.

Marie looked up at Jim as the gurney rolled by. "Thank you," she whispered and he smiled.

Once his charge was safely in the ambulance, Jim allowed himself to sit and to let the paramedics look at his arm. He made no mention of any other injuries.

"It's definitely broken," the medic said. "We'll stabilize it and they'll set it at the hospital." He looked at the big man. "I know you, Ellison," he said with a laugh. "I'm not even going to try and convince you to let us transport you. You can go with your partner there."

Blair laughed as well, saying, "See, Jim. Even the paramedics know what you're like." He looked at the EMT. "I'll take him right away," he promised as he reached out to touch Jim's shoulder.

Jim jumped and skittered out of reach, then flushed and looked down. "No, Sandburg, that's okay. I, uh, think Simon needs you here." He stared at the ground as he began to walk toward the ambulance. "I'll just go with these guys and you can pick me up later." He slid Blair's jacket from his shoulders and held it out to the younger man. "Here. You take this."

Blair planted both feet firmly and stared at the bigger man. "What the hell's going on here, Jim?"

Ignoring the larger question, Ellison replied, "I just don't want you to be cold while you're here on the scene." He forced a smile for the younger man, then headed for the waiting ambulance. "You coming?" he asked when the paramedics didn't move, and was rewarded with the sight of the two of them scrambling after him. He refused to look at his partner, but in his mind, he could still see the hurt and rejection on the younger man's face.

As he walked out, Adam ran up. "You okay, Ellison?"

Jim nodded.

" 'cause Marie, she's like convinced that you got hurt worse than that arm." He pointed at the sling. "Says she's not going anywhere until she talks to you."

Jim nodded again and changed direction, tramping bare-chested through the new fallen snow to stop at the second ambulance. "I'm fine, Marie," he said wearily.

"Leave us alone a minute, Adam," the woman asked. When her husband had withdrawn a discreet distance, she looked at Jim and said, "You are not fine. Jim, you have to tell them."

"Nothing happened, Marie."

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, but she said nothing.

"You weren't there. Nothing happened," he repeated.

"Stop, Jim," she said softly. "I won't say anything if you insist. But you need to be checked."

He nodded slowly. "I know. I'll talk to the doctor at the ER. But Marie, this is my problem, and I am asking you to respect my privacy."

"You need to talk to someone, Jim."

"My problem, Marie. I'll handle it my way." He forced a smile to take the sting from the words. "You have more important things to worry about now." He nodded at the baby cradled in her arms. "Like taking care of that little one, and her dad." He met her eyes with determination. "I'm going to be all right."

She reached for him, eyes narrowing as he avoided her touch without realizing he was doing it. "Thank you, Jim, for going with him. Thank you for my baby." She smiled as her eyes filled with tears. "Thank you for my life."

Blair was waiting at the hospital when the ambulance arrived. Jim walked in, saw him, and sighed. This was going to be harder than he'd thought.

"Hey, man, what's the idea of ditching me?" the younger man asked teasingly. "You know we always go to the hospital together. It's like, a tradition."

Jim gave a half-smile. "Sorry, Sandburg," he said shortly. "Things were a little confusing back there."

"Just wanted to know you're okay."

Blair moved forward and Jim knew another touch was coming, but he was saved when a nurse called his name. He veered away, saying, "My table's ready." He stopped, carefully out of reach of his tactile Guide, and added, "Thanks for coming."

"No problem, man," Sandburg said in bewilderment, as the Sentinel disappeared behind the double doors of the ER.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality," Jim hissed under his breath. "I don't want it reported. You don't report. End of discussion."

"Detective Ellison, you've been assaulted. I have to report that to the police."

"I am the police. It's been reported." Jim rolled over and sat up as the doctor removed his hand. "I do not want this going in my record, you understand?"

The man nodded. "There's been some tearing, not a lot, but you're going to be uncomfortable for a few days. You may see some blood. Try soft foods and lots of liquids. You don't want to have to pass anything hard."

"Fine," Jim said through clenched teeth. "Can I go now?"

"I'm giving you a prescription for Tylenol with codeine. That should take care of any discomfort from your arm. Don't get the cast wet."

Ellison nodded.

"And get a stool softener. Over the counter is fine, but you're going to want something."

Jim looked away, nodding again.

"I still think you need to let us do a rape kit."

"No." Jim eyed the doctor darkly. "Don't ask again."

"All right, Detective, you can go. Call me or see your regular doctor if you have any problems."

Jim started to rise, then stopped. "Can't you get me a shirt or something? It's cold out there."

The doctor sniffed. "I believe if you had taken two seconds to talk to your partner, you'd see he had a change of clothes for you."

Jim shook his head. "Just a shirt. And can you get someone to bring it in?"

The doctor nodded slowly. "Get a counselor, Detective. If you want to keep this matter private, you better have someone to talk to.

"You, uh, want a beer or something?" Blair asked from the kitchen.

Jim stood in the living room, home at last, and suddenly unsure of what to do. Talking to Sandburg was so low on the list, it didn't even make the list, but avoiding it was getting harder and harder to do. The younger man had asked questions almost nonstop on the way back here, and had only stopped when Jim had growled at him. Even now, Jim had no idea where that primal, almost otherworldly sound had come from, but it had shut Sandburg up. Even if his partner had given him a very strange and speculative look.

"No," he said shortly, "I don't want a beer."

"Something hot, maybe? Coffee? Or I could make you a cup of my chamomile tea -- very good for calming the nerves."

"God, Sandburg," Jim finally exclaimed, "give it rest, will you?" He began to pace frantically, back and forth in front of the fireplace. "I don't want a beer. I don't want coffee. And I sure as shit don't want chamomile tea! I don't want to talk about it. I'm okay. And I don't have any shit that I need to process, meditate on, or share with my higher power." He wheeled, the tension turning to sudden fury. "And I don't need you in my face every second asking questions!" He turned and stalked to the bathroom. "What I need is a shower."

This last was said almost under his breath, and with his back turned, he missed Blair's reaction. The younger man recoiled, almost as if he'd been physically slapped. He stood unmoving in the kitchen while the bathroom door slammed. He remained unmoving as the water came on, the sound loud in the silent apartment. And still he didn't move, for long, long moments while he stood and contemplated his friend's behavior. At length, he shook himself and moved to the stove. Mechanically, he lifted the teapot, emptied and refilled it, then set it on the stove. He was still standing there, unmoving, when the kettle began to whistle, drawing him from his thoughts.

The water was hot. He'd thought it might help, but it didn't seem to be. He was jumpy, full of barely suppressed violence and rage. It frightened him when he thought about how angry he'd been at Sandburg, how unable to cope with the questions his Guide had thrown at him.

He had to get a grip.

He'd told the doctor he would handle it, so handle it he would. People went through this all the time. It wasn't the end of the world. As a matter of fact, his reaction -- the need to shower -- was fairly typical. Or so he'd read. Or been told.

He tried to stop thinking -- ruthlessly pushing the thoughts out of his mind. Focus on something else, that was the ticket. In his mind, he was a sunlit meadow, and he could hear the trickle of a nearby stream. The sun was warm on his face, and he laughed as he fought with Sandburg about setting up the tent. There was fishing gear in the truck, and he had the whole weekend to relax and enjoy the clean, clear air, the fresh water from the brook, the immensity of crystal stars in the midnight sky.

It was a beautiful thought, but he couldn't hold it.

His arm ached, the muscle strained from trying to hold the loosely wrapped cast out of the water's spray. It was awkward and uncomfortable.

And there was another pain -- deeper inside him. One that throbbed and would not be denied.

He sighed in disgust and scrubbed at his body, mindless of the reddened, chafed skin he left behind. And when he wiped at his buttocks and the cleft between, he made himself ignore the blood that stained the rag.

He climbed out, dried quickly and headed for the stairs.

Sandburg appeared the moment he stepped out of the bathroom and he forestalled him with a glowering look. "Not another word," he growled at his Guide. "I'm going to bed."

He was groggy and he couldn't move his hands again. He tugged, but they were tightly held behind his back. That made no sense. His arm was broken, wasn't it? How could it be behind his back? He was on his feet, and it was dark. And silent. Or was it? Were his senses on the fritz?

He shifted in his bonds, confused as he realized his arm wasn't broken. He was prodded forward and he moved, trying to remember why he was here -- how he was here. Anderson had come to the apartment. Marie -- innocent Marie -- had opened the door to him and it was over before it began. He'd had no choice. No opportunity to do anything other than follow the man's orders.

"Stop."

The voice was hoarse and he smelled alcohol as the man spoke. He reached a little further with his sense of smell and identified Anderson. That made sense, right? But why the hell was he here with Anderson, and where was Marie?

"Always the white knight, eh Ellison?" Anderson mocked. "Just had to save the little lady."

The man laughed, and the sound was loud in his sensitive ears.

'Dial it down, man,' he heard, and his head whipped around, searching for Sandburg, but he was still alone with Anderson. God, it had seemed so real. He risked one more quick look around, but it was only wishful thinking. His Guide was nowhere to be found. He was alone.

Marie was still in the room -- the little room where he'd first woken up. He tried to think through the fog in his brain and conjured up a vision of her, against the back wall, huddled in on herself, in pain. In pain. One thing suddenly clarified for him. She'd been in labor. At least since he first woke up. He could picture her holding her stomach, the way she stroked the taut belly and the periodic moments when she seemed to disengage and become totally focused on the child she carried. Oh, God! How long had she been in labor?

He hadn't even realized when Anderson came for her. All he'd been able to think about was that he had to keep this madman away from her. What was it he'd said? He had insights as to the location of the guns? He'd promised the man he'd talk to him about the guns. And somehow, as he walked out of that room, he'd actually deluded himself that that was what would happen.

Jim shivered in the cold air and felt the barrel of the gun run down his back. It touched his neck gently, then ran a soft course against his spine, dipping below his belt to press against the crack of his buttocks. He shuddered; and Anderson laughed.

"Oh, yeah," the other man said, and Jim heard him lick his lips. "This'll be even better."

Hands on his arms, one hand holding a gun, and he was being turned to face Anderson. The man opened his mouth and the odor was nauseating. Jim groaned.

"Oh, baby," said Anderson, "save those sweet sounds for later."

Jim thought he was going to be sick. He closed his eyes and offered a brief prayer to deities unknown. 'Please -- not this.'

The gun was against his heart, the barrel pressed hard enough to leave a small round circle. With his other hand, Anderson unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned his pants. The man watched Jim throughout, his eyes never wavering, a sick leer on his face. His hearing spiked as the zipper went down and he winced at the pain in his head.

'Dial it down, man. Dial it down.'

Sandburg was still not there, but it was his voice he heard as he struggled to keep his senses under control. His heart was racing -- the blood pounded in his temple. He didn't know if he could do this. He twitched, and Anderson pushed the gun tighter.

"Remember the little woman ..." the man warned, and Jim forced himself to stillness.

His pants were lowered, then his boxers. Anderson wasn't taking his time, but he seemed to be enjoying this perverse version of foreplay. With his pants at his ankles, he was turned again, and pushed forward over a counter of some kind.

He felt a pressure against his opening, and before he could stop himself, he began to fight. He kicked backward, and tried to roll, but the angle was awkward and he couldn't quite complete the move. There was a sharp 'crack' that echoed in the air, and then his arm exploded in agony. He screamed, a short burst of pain that filled the room and seemed to take a long time to fade away.

Anderson had the gun at his head now, and his words were laced with venom. "Doesn't matter to me, Ellison," he hissed, the booze on his breath torture to Jim's nose. "One hole's as good as another."

Jim stilled immediately.

The gun stroked his cheek, a gentle movement this time, and he could smell gunpowder and solvent, oil and the clean scent of the steel bullets beneath it all. The metal rasped against his evening whiskers, and he was acutely aware of the pull of each hair as the barrel floated past.

His senses were on fire.

'Dial it down, man. Dial it down.'

He nodded softly to the unheard voice, and obeyed, maintaining enough awareness to know what was happening, to feel each movement. He was so tempted to dial it down to nothingness -- but then, what would happen?

He shivered as Anderson touched him again, and then in one quick, brutal thrust, he was split apart and there was a rhythmic pounding in his ass.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

He began to count silently in his head.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Endure and survive. It was the all-consuming thought.

Pictures of a small, long-haired man arose unbidden in his consciousness and he made the immediate association of safety, warmth, acceptance.

But there was none of that here.

Two hundred, forty-six.

Two hundred, forty-seven.

Two hundred, forty-eight.

Endure and survive.

Endure and survive.

It hurt so bad. He was crying now -- begging the man to stop, but there was only a cackle of delight to answer him and an increase in the tempo, the rhythm as Anderson plunged on ruthlessly.

Three hundred ninety-eight.

Three hundred ninety-nine.

Four hundred.

Marie was safe for now. He'd protected her. That was what he did. He was the Blessed Protector. Sandburg knew. The thought of his Guide brought another cry to his lips and he was rewarded with yet another brutal thrust.

Endure and survive.

Five hundred twelve.

Five hundred thirteen.

Five hundred fourteen.

Endure.

Survive.

Live -- so you can fight later.

Survival is victory. Isn't that what they said? Do what you have to do to survive. And in this case, do what you have to do to protect the innocent.

Six hundred sixty-four.

Anderson's rhythm became ragged.

Six hundred sixty-five.

He faltered; missed a beat.

Six hundred sixty-six.

Six hundred sixty-seven.

The pain had mutated into this sort of all-encompassing sensory overload that threatened to overwhelm him. He struggled for control.

Six hundred sixty-eight.

Endure.

Six hundred sixty-nine.

Survive.

Six hundred seventy.

Anderson shuddered and drove in hard, one hand shoving the gun deep against his neck, the other clawing his back with surprisingly long fingernails.

Six hundred seventy-one.

Anderson shuddered again, and stilled.

Six hundred seventy-two.

Survive. Endure.

Six hundred seventy-three.

Anderson pulled out with a wet, slurping sound and a completely new frisson of pain ran through his body.

Jim paused his count. Was it over?

Something wet and sticky oozed from his ass, sliding slowly down his leg. He smelled blood.

Endure.

Survive.

'Dial it down, man.'

It all ran together in his head.

He should fight. He should resist this. What sort of man just lays there and allows this to happen? What was wrong with him?

Anderson turned him and began to pull up his pants, the gun a constant presence against his chest.

He could feel the hands on his body, hear his name being said, over and over again.

"Jim."

"Jim."

"Jim."

And this time, Jim exploded. He screamed in rage, and whirled, arm coming around and connecting solidly with the face behind the voice and was triumphant when Anderson flew backward, landing in a heap on the floor.

Jim was on him in an instant, the heavy cast lifted high to strike the killing blow, when the voice became clear.

"Jim, man, it's me!"

His vision cleared and he awoke to find himself on top of his Guide, pinning the younger man to the floor, and about to strike him with the cast.

He froze, then scuttled backward, arms held out before him in a classic 'don't touch me' stance.

Silence screamed in the room as the two men stared at each other across a seemingly unbreachable chasm.

Blair moved first, two tentative steps forward. "Jim, man, you were dreaming."

"Stay away, Sandburg."

The younger man froze. Silence reigned again.

Jim stared at his Guide. There was blood on his face, and already the beginnings of a bruise were visible. "I hit you," he said softly.

Blair shrugged it off. "You were dreaming. You didn't mean to."

Jim nodded and Blair crept another step closer.

"Jim, man, you gotta tell me what happened."

"Stay away from me, Blair."

"I can't. I'm your Guide. You gotta let me help."

Jim rose from the floor, walked quickly across the room and pulled Sandburg to his feet. He marched the man a few paces to the stairs and forced him down the first few.

"You want to help? Leave me the hell alone."

"She's beautiful," Adam said softly as he stroked the down-covered head. "Absolutely perfect."

Marie nodded contently. She shifted slightly as the baby lost her nipple, teased the little lips with her finger, and was rewarded with a quick bite as the baby's suckling began again.

"It's incredible that you can do that," Adam said, as he brushed his wife's hair back from her face.

Marie smiled, a pleased and proud look, and nodded. "I know. It amazes me, too. I feel very earth-mothery."

Adam laughed. "Earth-mothery?"

"Yes, earth-mothery," his wife replied, "and don't tease. There's a lot that men don't understand about woman power."

Adam raised his hands in surrender. "You don't have to convince me." He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on the baby's head, then a longer one on Marie's lips. "You amaze me." He laughed again. "I know, I know. I keep saying it, but it's true. What you went through ..." He shuddered and wrapped his arm around his girls as his eyes filled with tears. "God, Marie! I'm so sorry! If I'd ever known, ever suspected that they'd come after me like this, I'd never..." His head dropped to her shoulder and he rested it there.

"Never what, Adam? Never have loved me? Never have married me? Never had this little angel?" She shook her head. "You can't control the world, my love. None of this was your fault." She turned her head and placed a kiss on his hair. "It's not your fault."

He sighed, then pulled himself erect. "I wonder how Jim is doing? That arm looked painful."

Marie nodded. "I'm worried about him, too, Adam."

"We'll go see him when you and the little one are released, ok?"

She nodded. "But that's not what I'm really worried about." She met Adam's eyes, willing him to understand what she was saying. "I think he may have other injuries, besides the arm."

Adam nodded. "Yeah. I saw the bruise on his face. I think Anderson hit him, maybe roughed him up."

"He may not have told Blair and his Captain about all his injuries."

"Why would you say that?" Adam looked at his wife curiously.

"Maybe he feels -- uncomfortable -- because he got hurt."

"Marie," Adam said in puzzlement, "are you trying to tell me something else happened?"

She shrugged and the baby protested as the nipple slipped from her lips. Marie fussed at her breast, shifting the child from the left to the right, and helping her capture the new nipple. When the baby was suckling contentedly, Marie looked up. "I'm just saying that Jim doesn't strike me as the kind to talk about things that hurt him. Maybe you should see if you can get him to talk."

Adam looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "I don't think Jim Ellison is going to want to talk to me about much of anything." Marie started to speak but he shushed her with a finger to her lips. "Hush. I'll see if I can't talk to his partner, Sandburg. He seems to have a good rapport with Ellison." He looked at Marie. "Will that do?"

She nodded and he smiled. "God, woman! I had no idea this earth-mothery thing would extend to everyone on the planet."

"Not everyone," she said softly. "Just the ones I care about."