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

RATING: G

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

This is a missing scene for The Sentinel episode "Love and Guns" and contains spoilers for that episode. Viewing the episode before reading is highly recommended.

Feedback is always welcome.

It took Jim a moment to regain his breath and clear his pounding head, and realize that he wasn't dead. He had felt the powerful recoil of the gun against his chest, and was surprised to find that the drops of blood on his shirt were not his own. Despite his aching body and the cuts stinging his face and hands, he was okay.

He sat up slowly, still a bit groggy from his impacts with Vargas, the greenhouse walls, and the ground. Reaching over to the body lying next to him on the damp ground, he confirmed with a touch that Vargas was dead. Closing the glazed, staring eyes, he picked up the gun and slid it into the waistband of his slacks.

Standing up with a groan, he turned and stepped unsteadily through the broken glass wall and into the greenhouse. Looking around quickly, he spotted the still form of his partner lying on the ground near a potting table, his arms behind him and a gag in his mouth. A few feet away from Blair, kneeling on the ground and sobbing with her face in her hands, was Maya.

He quickly walked over and knelt by Blair's side.

"Blair?"

The crumpled form on the ground didn't move. His head was twisted to one side, painfully so, his temple nestled in the thick dust of the dirt floor. Dust arrayed itself over his black jeans and leather jacket, possible signs of a struggle that he had lost. Quickly placing one hand on Blair's chest and one at the side of his neck, Jim gratefully discovered that he was merely unconscious, not dead as he had feared.

Gently brushing the hair back from Blair's ashen face, he carefully untied and removed the gag from his mouth first, then checked him over quickly. When he couldn't see any obvious signs of broken bones or other major injuries, he carefully reached behind Blair's back and removed the ropes from his wrists, trying to jostle him as little as possible. The reddened and raw skin around his wrists and hands made Jim wince as he lay them gently back down to the ground. He decided not to try to pull Blair's arms out from behind him to roll him over onto his back, for fear of worsening any injuries.

Looking into Blair's pale face, he saw the darkening, swelling area around a cut on his lower lip that was bleeding down his chin. Looking more closely, it was matched by a cut inside his lip that was bleeding slowly into his mouth. It looked like he might have been struck with something harder than a fist, and Jim worried that he could have a broken jaw or a concussion. He pulled Blair's leather jacket as tightly as he could around him without moving him, and pulled off his own jacket and draped it over him as well.

The welcome sound of approaching sirens broke his concentration, and he realized that Maya was still sobbing near him. He turned towards her to see if she was okay.

"Maya, are you all right? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head but continued crying, her face buried in her hands.

"Maya, what happened to Blair? Maya!"

Maya finally raised red and tear-filled eyes to meet his. He saw a swelling and reddening area on her left cheekbone, but she appeared otherwise unharmed. She finally took a couple of shuddering breaths and replied.

"He saved my life! I came out to find Blair, to see if he was all right, but Vargas caught me just as I started to untie him. Vargas hit me, and he was going to kill me! Blair jumped up and tackled him, to give me a chance to get away, and Vargas hit him again, with the machete. Oh, God, is he dead?"

"No, Blair's not dead, but he's unconscious." The sounds of the sirens had stopped, and he could hear the voices and footsteps of several officers approaching in the distance. "Maya, can you go out and get one of the officers and tell them that I need an ambulance?"

She looked at him, then at Blair, then looked at him again. "Yes, I'll go get help." With a last look at Blair, she stood and ran stumbling out of the building.

Jim turned his attention back to his unconscious partner. Pulling out his handkerchief, he dabbed gently at the blood dribbling from Blair's cut lip. Moments later, a slight murmur heralded his possible return to consciousness.

Blair moved his head a little, then Jim heard a soft groan.

"Stop it…" Blair mumbled as his eyes fluttered open momentarily then fell back closed. "Hurts…"

"Sorry, Chief. Come on, wake up now. Stay with me, Blair." There was no further sign that Blair had regained consciousness as he again appeared silent and motionless for several moments. Jim's smile of relief turned to a worried frown as he became concerned that Blair seemed to be unable to remain conscious. He reached over and gently shook his shoulder, calling out to him louder. "Blair? Come on, Chief, wake up."

Blair didn't move or open his eyes, but he did answer in a slurred whisper. "…m awake. Don't yell…head hurts…"

"Blair, open your eyes. Come on, Chief, I need you to look at me."

"…bright…"

"It's too bright in here? Does it make your head hurt when you open your eyes?"

"Yeah…what happened…"

His voice came out soft and pained, and still slightly slurred. Jim could see Blair's discomfort in the lines on his face and the deepening furrow in his brow.

"Maya told me that you tackled Vargas…"

Blair's eyes suddenly opened with a groan, and he looked about wildly. "Maya…"

"She's fine. She just went to get help." Jim wasn't encouraged by the glazed and unfocused look in Blair's eyes before he clamped them shut again with a relieved sigh.

"Look, Chief, I need you to tell me if you're injured anywhere."

"…head hurts…mouth hurts…"

"Yeah, I can see that. You've got a nasty looking cut and bruise on your lip. Anywhere else?"

"Don't know…can't think…" Blair's stillness was eerie, so unnatural for the normally exuberant young man.

Jim's concern intensified, but he was distracted and relieved at the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up to see Captain Simon Banks peering through the broken glass wall, gun at the ready.

"Jim, is it all clear in here?"

"Yeah, Simon. We just need the paramedics in here."

Simon turned and gestured behind him, then holstered his gun as he stepped through the wall. He walked over and stood over the two men, concern evident on his typically stoic face.

"Maya told us. How's he doing?"

The arrival of the paramedics interrupted his response, and Jim stood and waved them over. One of the men knelt down by Blair, opening up his kit, and the other stopped to talk to Jim and Simon. Jim quickly began filling them in.

"Hi, guys. I'm really glad to see you. That's my partner, Blair Sandburg. As far as I know he's been knocked unconscious twice in about an hour. He's been awake for a couple of minutes and he's complaining that he can't think straight and that the light hurts his eyes. You can see where he was hit in the face. I don't know about any other injuries, he didn't tell me that he was hurt anywhere else, but he hasn't moved since he came to."

The paramedic nodded and joined his partner beside Blair, and Jim backed up to give them room to work. Simon filled him in on the successful sting operation and arrests at the warehouse as Jim worriedly observed the paramedics working on his friend. Blair still wasn't moving around, and spoke only enough to answer their questions. They quickly and efficiently took his vital signs, looked into his eyes, and examined the obvious injury to his mouth. After completing their initial checks, they carefully eased his arms out from under him and laid him onto his back. One of the medics left the greenhouse as the other stood and approached Jim and Simon.

"So how's he doing?" Jim asked quickly.

"Well, I'd say there's a good chance he has at least a mild concussion. He has quite a headache, and moving or opening his eyes seems to aggravate it. We're going to put a cervical collar on him and transport him to the hospital, just as a precaution for a head injury or possible cervical spine injury. But his pupils look okay, he's coherent, and he has full movement and sensation in his arms and legs. He's not too thrilled about the idea of going to the hospital, but we shouldn't take any chances, not with two blows to the head in such a short period of time."

"No, you're right. He definitely needs to get checked out. Thanks."

"You're welcome. We should be ready to transport him in a few minutes, my partner is just getting what we need from the squad."

Jim walked over and knelt down beside Blair.

"Hey, buddy, how're you doing?"

Blair's eyes slowly opened to mere slits and he found and focused on Jim's face.

"…been better. Can we get outta here?"

"Yeah, they'll be ready to get you into the ambulance in a few minutes. Hang in there, pal."

"Just wanna go home…"

Jim reached down and patted his partner gently on the shoulder. "Sure, Chief, just as soon as you get checked out by a doctor."

"Jim…"

"No arguments, Blair. Besides, if you feel half as bad as you look…"

Blair grunted softly. "You have no idea…" and let his eyes slide closed again.

Jim grinned and patted his shoulder again. "Take it easy, buddy."

The paramedic returned with a gurney and a cervical collar, and Jim stood and backed out of their way again. They placed the collar around Blair's neck and then carefully helped him to his feet, holding him firmly as he wavered and then helping him to sit down before he could fall down. Swinging his legs up onto the gurney, they unfolded a blanket over him and strapped him securely in place for transport. With a nod to Jim they picked up their kit and carefully wheeled Blair out of the greenhouse.

With a last glance around the greenhouse, Jim and Simon followed them out. Heading around the house and towards the ambulance, they were abruptly intercepted by two men who stepped right into their path. Tall and muscular, in matching spotless black windbreakers and baseball caps with "ATF" emblazoned above the brim, Jim thought that they looked more like movie actors than real law enforcement officers.

"Detective Ellison?"

"Yes?"

"Matthews and Gridley, ATF. We need to get your statement…"

Jim interrupted them in midsentence. "Look, fellas, that can wait. That's my partner they're loading into the ambulance over there, and I need to go with him to the hospital."

They barely bothered to look over at the ambulance before the younger agent spoke up in a condescending tone. "I'm sure they'll take good care of him, Detective. We need to interview you about Carasco's operation and your participation here. Since Agent Drennen is already on the way to the hospital herself, she can't fill us in. So you're elected."

Just as he began to step up to get into the agent's face, and shove him out of the way if necessary, Simon interrupted him midstride with an arm across his chest.

"I'm Captain Simon Banks, Cascade PD. Detective Ellison's partner was injured in the course of this operation, as was Detective Ellison." He gestured to the cuts on Jim's face and the blood on his shirt. "Neither Ellison or Sandburg is talking to anyone until they receive proper medical treatment. Jim, go to the hospital with Sandburg and get yourself checked out. That's an order. I'll take care of things here." He drew himself up to his full 6' 4", pulling out a cigar and thrusting it into his mouth, and glared down at the ATF men as if daring them to contradict him.

Jim glanced at him gratefully. "Thank you, sir." He trotted over to the ambulance and climbed into the back just as the paramedic was closing the door.

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

The aftertaste of the bitter waiting room coffee still permeated his taste buds as he made yet another trip between ER cubicle 4 and ER cubicle 9. Agent Drennen, in cubicle 4, was being prepped for surgery to remove the bullet from her arm, and he had been assured that she was in no real danger. She had given a brief statement to her colleagues, just enough to keep them at bay for now, for which he had been grateful. The price in trade, she had bargained, was one home-cooked dinner, to which Jim had gratefully acquiesced.

He had just seen Blair being wheeled back into cubicle 9, returning from his trip to the X-ray department. The doctor had examined him and scheduled him for x-rays of his head and neck, just as a precaution, they had assured him. Blair had continued to be disturbingly quiet and still, saying only that his head hurt, and quietly taking the extra-strength Tylenol from the nurse without complaint. Jim entered the cubicle and nodded at the orderly as he left.

"Hey, Chief, how's it going?"

Blair was lying with his arm bent over his face, guarding his tender eyes from the glaring overhead lights of the ER. He didn't move as he softly responded.

"Fine. The doctor said I can go home if the x-rays are negative."

"That's great. How's the head?"

"Don't ask." He shifted slightly on the gurney. "Is Maya here?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so."

"Hmmm. Vargas hit her pretty hard. Was she okay?"

"I saw a paramedic talking to her when we were leaving. If she needed treatment, I'm sure they would have brought her in. I'm sure she's fine, Chief."

Blair shifted on the gurney and finally brought his arm down, opening his eyes just enough to find and meet Jim's.

"What's going to happen to her, Jim?" The pained expression on his face and the slight tremor in his voice betrayed the emotion behind his question. Jim took a moment to frame his answer, not knowing everything that had happened between Blair and Maya, but remembering vividly the tone in Blair's voice when he had said, "I'm fallin' in love with her, Jim."

He decided on honesty.

"I don't know, Blair. That depends on whether the prosecutor feels she had any knowledge of or involvement with her father's operation."

"She didn't, Jim. I told you that. Vargas was going to kill her because she found out!" He closed his eyes and brought his arm back over his face, his voice becoming softer and sadder. "Because of me…"

"Come on, man, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault that her father is who he is."

"And it's not her fault either, Jim."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, Jim really wanting Blair to talk with him about Maya, but also wanting to let Blair choose how and when to talk about it, if possible. He wasn't sure exactly how he would do it, but he was the experienced police officer and Blair would need his help to deal with the fallout from the case.

He spotted a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Simon gesturing at him from the doorway. Standing and briefly resting a hand on Blair's arm, he turned to leave the cubicle.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

No, Jim thought, he was far from fine. The still and silent man lying on the gurney bore little resemblance to the energetic and talkative roommate that he was beginning to get used to having around. He hoped again that his injuries weren't serious.

Simon was waiting for him in the hallway, a lingering odor of cigar smoke wafting about him, revealing that he had just returned from a smoke break.

"So what's the verdict?"

Jim sighed and rubbed his forehead. "We're waiting for his x-rays. If they're negative, they'll let him go home, even though he has a mild concussion."

Raising his head, he saw Simon looking at him with a searching expression. "And how is the kid, really?"

"He hasn't said much. He got too involved, and he seems to blame himself for the way things turned out." Shaking his head, Jim started to pace in frustration. "It's my fault, Simon. I didn't think it through, asking Sandburg to check out Maya. He's not a cop, he wasn't prepared to deal with the consequences. He could have been killed."

Simon took his arm and led him farther down the hall, away from the treatment area, dodging a harried intern and a tearful family in her wake. His voice was stern. "You're right, Jim, you probably shouldn't have gotten him involved. And I shouldn't have let you. He's just a kid, an observer, and lots of experienced officers have problems with this kind of case." He laid a hand on Jim's shoulder, and his tone softened. "But he's okay, he survived, and he's gonna be older and wiser after this one. It's your job, as his partner, to make sure he gets his head on straight about this. You got that?"

Jim looked up, seeing genuine concern in his captain's eyes.

"I got it, Simon," he answered gratefully.

"Look, when you know if Sandburg is going to be released, find me and let me know. It's a zoo out there, the ATF regional director is having a field day with the press in the parking lot, telling everyone how their agent organized the breakup of the Carasco organization. And there are still a couple of their men trying to get their hands on Sandburg for his statement. When he's ready to go, I'll see if I can run a little interference or set up some kind of distraction so the two of you can get out of here unscathed. OK?"

"Thanks, Simon. I don't think he's up to facing the ATF or the press right now."

Simon turned and walked back towards the waiting room, and Jim returned to the treatment area. Entering Blair’s cubicle, he could see that his eyes were closed again beneath a protective arm. Deciding not to bother him if he was truly resting, he sat quietly in the chair in the corner to wait. A little while later, a nurse entered the cubicle and walked over to him.

"I see you’re back. The doctor just got the x-rays on your friend and he’s taking a look at them now. He should be with you in a few minutes. Oh, and these are for you." She handed Jim some alcohol wipes and gauze pads. "Unless you sign in as a patient, I can’t treat you, but I thought you might want to clean up those cuts on your face while you wait for the doctor."

"Thanks. That’s very thoughtful of you."

The nurse left with a smile and Jim stood and walked over to the mirror and sink on the wall. Using the gauze and wipes, he cleaned the cuts on his face, grateful that none seemed deep or serious. Just as he finished, the doctor entered the cubicle.

"Mr. Sandburg?"

Blair let his arm fall and opened his eyes, slowly swinging his legs over the side and pushing himself up to a sitting position on the edge of the gurney. He wavered slightly as he squinted at the doctor through pained eyes. "Yes?"

"Good news. Your x-rays look good, there's no sign of a fracture. So we’re gonna go ahead and discharge you, as long as there is someone to check on you regularly for the next 24 hours due to your concussion. Do you have someone who can do that?"

Jim spoke up quickly. "That would be me, Doctor. We’re roommates."

"Very good. The nurse will bring you some discharge papers to sign, Mr. Sandburg, and some discharge and followup instructions, including what to watch for." He turned to Jim. "You’ll want to check him every hour or so, and that includes waking him up during the night, I’m afraid. It’s just a precaution, he'll probably be just fine, but I believe it’s warranted in this situation."

"No problem, Doctor. Every hour it is."

"Fine. Well, Mr. Sandburg, I’d use an ice pack on that lip for 24-36 hours, as I said, and take whatever over-the-counter pain medication you prefer for your headache. I’d strongly suggest that you take it easy for a couple of days, limit your activities and get plenty of rest. Be sure to see your doctor if you have any symptoms pop up. OK?"

"Sure. Thanks, Doc."

"All right. Take care of yourself. You can leave just as soon as the nurse brings you those papers. Bye now." Shaking Blair’s hand, and with a nod to Jim, he strode off down the hallway.

Jim walked over and set a hand on Blair’s shoulder. "That’s great, Chief. We’ll be out of here in a few minutes. I’m gonna go let Simon know, OK? He’s around here somewhere."

"Sure, go ahead, I’ll be here." Blair remained sitting up but closed his eyes to wait.

Finding Simon fending off a couple of reporters in the waiting area, Jim pulled him away and filled him in on the Doctor’s report and recommendations.

"That’s good news, Jim. I’d suggest that you take him out of the door down by the cafeteria, though, both the ATF and the press are likely to pounce on Sandburg the minute they see him. We’ll need to get both of your statements tomorrow, but it can wait until the afternoon. You both look like you could use the extra rest. I’ll tell the ATF that they’ll just have to accept those statements, for now, that if they want to interview him for more it can wait a couple of days."

"Thanks, sir, I appreciate that. Blair needs to rest more than they need one more statement. Going a few rounds with the ATF is not on my list of relaxing activities."

He returned to the treatment area to find a nurse in with Sandburg, having him sign some papers. Finishing up and separating the copies, she set his copies down on the gurney and left with a smile. Jim picked up the papers, folded them, and put them in his jacket pocket.

"Ready to get out of here, Chief?"

"Yeah, let’s go home." Blair edged off of the gurney to a standing position, unsteady for a moment before gaining his balance. Jim reached out a hand to steady him, but Blair pulled his arm away and headed towards the door, avoiding eye contact.

Jim followed him out and steered him towards the alternate exit. They walked in silence around the side of the building to the parking lot, both ducking their heads and hurrying their pace when they saw the ATF regional director holding court in the parking lot and all of the news crews around him. Fortunately, they reached the truck without being spotted, and gratefully headed home.

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

Blair slowly pulled off his leather jacket, taking his time as his bruised muscles protested the motion. Hanging it on a hook by the door, he turned and made a slow beeline into his room, closing the curtain behind him softly. Sinking down onto the bed, he propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. It felt as if it weighed a ton, and he was sure that he could feel each beat of his heart in the throbbing at his temples.

He didn’t know how long he had sat in that position when he heard a soft knock on the door frame.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure. Come on in, Jim." He brushed his hair back off of his face with one hand as he looked up.

Jim slid the curtain aside and walked in, holding a glass of water and a bag of frozen peas in his hands.

"I thought you could use this, for your lip, to keep the swelling down like the doctor said. And I brought you some ibuprofen, extra strength, for your headache. It‘s been a few hours since you had anything at the hospital." He pulled the bottle of pain reliever out of the pocket of his slacks and shook out a couple of tablets, handing them to Blair.

"Thanks, Jim." He quietly took the offered tablets, washing them down with the water, then handed the glass back and accepted the bag of peas. Gingerly, he pressed the bag to his mouth, gasping at the initial pain of the cold contact. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, hoping that the cold would quickly bring some numbness to the painful area.

"Are you hungry? I know it’s a little early for dinner, but neither of us had a chance for lunch. I’m sure I can dig something up, or I could call out for delivery."

"No thanks, Jim, I don’t think I could eat right now. I’m just gonna lie down for a while." Not wanting to meet Jim's eyes, he stretched out on the bed, slowly lowering his aching head onto the pillow and closing his eyes. He heard Jim take a couple of steps and then pause, probably just inside the doorway. The compassion in his soft voice brought a lump to Blair's throat.

"You gonna be okay, Chief?"

Blair felt his eyes grow hot with tears as he tried to answer, suddenly overwhelmed by both the pain from his throbbing head and his emotions over all of the events of the last couple of days. He knew that Jim was asking about more than his headache, and he was touched by his concern even as he was embarrassed by the break in his voice as he answered.

"I’ll be fine." He rolled over onto his side, facing away from the doorway to hide the flush that he could feel on his face and the tears threatening to spill out onto his cheeks. He prayed that Jim would just leave it alone, would leave him alone so he could get a handle on his feelings. After a few moments, Jim responded and he heard his footsteps heading away.

"OK. I’ll be in to check on you in a while. Get some rest."

The tears finally erupted and slid down his face onto the pillow as he couldn’t get the picture of Maya out of his head, or the love and pain he felt for her out of his heart. He pressed his face into the pillow and pulled a blanket up over his head, wishing that there was a hole somewhere nearby that he could crawl into and hide. Not only had he messed up with Maya, he had betrayed Jim's faith in him by screwing up and almost getting himself killed. Jim would never trust Blair to work with him on a real case again. Hoping that Jim’s sensitive hearing was focused somewhere else, he tried to settle his breathing as his thoughts whirled around in circles and his emotions raged within.

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

A couple of hours later, Jim again walked softly to the curtain at the doorway of Blair’s bedroom and pulled it aside, glancing at the sleeping figure on the bed. The last time he had checked on his roommate, Blair had finally fallen asleep and Jim hadn’t wanted to awaken him. It had been a relief when he'd heard Blair's breathing even out and his tossing and turning finally cease. Despite good intentions to give him his privacy, he couldn't help automatically listening in to hear if Blair was all right. He had heard the catches in Blair's breath, the soft snuffles and the muffled sobs, and had known that everything had finally caught up with the young man.

So instead of waking him he had just gone quietly over to his bedside and gently felt his forehead, to check for any change in temperature, and gauged his breathing and heartbeat with his heightened senses. Noting that everything had seemed normal, he had rescued the bag of peas from where it had fallen on the floor and left Blair to rest. This time he figured that he really should awaken him as directed by the doctor, just to be sure.

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Blair was still lying curled on his side, a blanket pulled over him, facing away from the door. Even without dialing up his senses Jim could see the tracks of tears dried on his face, and how much darker and more swollen his lip had become. Tuning into his sense of smell, he could easily make out the odor of the greenhouse floor dirt still in Blair’s hair and clothing, the blood from his injuries, and a faint antiseptic smell overlaying the odor of dried sweat. Reaching over, he laid a hand on the still shoulder and shook it gently.

"Blair? Wake up." Not sensing a response, he tried again, shaking a little harder and letting his voice grow louder. "Come on, Chief, wake up."

This time he finally got a response as Blair moved an arm out from under the blanket and up towards his face. He brushed his hair off of his face as he rolled over onto his back, and groaned slightly at the movement. He opened bleary and red-rimmed eyes to meet Jim’s.

"Mmmm...what time is it?"

"Not too late. You’ve been asleep a couple of hours. I should’ve awakened you earlier, but you looked like you needed the sleep. How do you feel?" He moved closer to the edge of the bed to give Blair room, as Blair pushed himself up to a sitting position at the head of the bed with a groan.

"Oh, my head..." He closed his eyes and held his head carefully with both hands as if it was going to fall off, slowly letting it fall back to rest against the headboard. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he opened his eyes again. "My head feels like it’s ten sizes too big."

Jim grinned despite himself. "Well, your head doesn’t look any bigger, but your lip looks like it’s taken on a life of it’s own. How’s your vision? Are you seeing okay? Let me take a look at your eyes." He grasped Blair's chin carefully and looked deeply into Blair's eyes, checking his pupils, and was grateful to see that they appeared equal and normal.

"No, I just have a headache and my mouth hurts."

Jim let his hand drop from Blair's chin to his shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze. "Looks good. Listen, why don’t you get up and get a shower while I order us something for supper."

Blair gingerly felt at his swollen lip with the fingertips of one hand. "I don’t know if I’m up to eating anything, Jim."

"Come on, you need to eat something, it'll make you feel better. I’ll order from the Noodle House, you can have some noodles and egg drop soup, that shouldn’t bother your lip too much. Okay?"

A moment passed as Blair thought about his offer. "Okay. I do feel pretty grungy, a shower sounds good. Just order the plain noodles and broth, though, not the spicy noodles I usually get."

"It’s a deal." Jim got up from the bed and headed for the doorway. "I’ll go ahead and call in our order and it should be here just about the time you're done in the bathroom."

Twenty minutes later, Blair joined him at the dining table, moving slowly as he settled himself into a chair. He had put on baggy sweats, a bulky sweater and thick socks, but still wrapped his arms around himself as if cold. His face had a little more color but was still pale, and an occasional tremble, either from pain or from cold, ran through his body. Jim noticed and set the kettle on the stove to make some hot tea, then headed over and turned on the fireplace.

Blair noticed his efforts with a soft smile. "Thanks, man. I don’t know why I feel so chilled. Maybe it’s because I’m so stiff and sore. It must have been tackling Vargas or something, but I feel like I was hit by a truck."

"I know what you mean, Chief. I thought I hit a brick wall when I ran into the guy." Both men fell silent momentarily, thinking about Carasco's man and what might have happened. Had things gone differently, both men might have been killed. Jim shook it off and grabbed a couple of mugs from the cupboard, placing them on the table. "Hey, do you need some more ibuprofen? I've got a bit of a headache myself and I thought I'd grab some for both of us."

He headed into the bathroom to get the pain reliever without waiting for an answer. Grabbing the bottle, he carried it back into the kitchen. He was certain that Blair needed it, not just for his head, but also for the growing bruises on his back and shoulder as well. Jim had inadvertently spotted them when he had casually glanced towards Blair's bedroom as he was dressing after his shower, hearing Blair's involuntary gasp at the pain the movements caused. That curtain in the doorway really didn't offer him much privacy, Jim thought, and made a mental note to see about replacing it with real doors one of these days.

Setting the bottle down on the table, he was just about to get out some tea when the delivery man arrived with the food. He paid for it and set it out on the table, and the two men sorted out the orders and began to eat.

Jim kept a careful eye on his roommate. Even though he made a valiant effort, Blair ate little of his noodles or soup, involuntarily grimacing whenever anything touched his swollen and split lip. He eventually gave up and leaned back in his chair, warming his hands with the cup of tea held between them, and staring into the cup as if it held the answers to the great questions of the universe. After finishing his plate and encouraging Blair, unsuccessfully, to eat more, Jim cleared the table. Making another cup of tea for Blair and a cup of hot chocolate for himself, he suggested that they move into the living room to take advantage of the warm fireplace and see if they could catch a game on TV.

Blair stood and walked stiffly into the living room, carrying his mug of tea with him, and settled onto the sofa. Jim joined him on the other sofa a moment later, noticing that the remote remained untouched on the coffee table just in front of Blair. He sat, sipping his chocolate, and waited. He didn't have to wait long.

"Jim, I…" A long pause followed, as Blair kept staring into his mug and avoiding eye contact with Jim.

"What, Chief?" Jim asked, in what he hoped was a warm and supportive tone.

"I'm sorry I messed things up, man. I should have listened to you about Maya's father. I don't know, I was just so…I wasn't really paying attention to anything but Maya. I could have gotten you killed. I could have gotten you both killed." The embarrassment and self-loathing in his voice took Jim by surprise. He hadn't realized how much Blair blamed himself for the events of the case.

"It's all right, everything turned out all right. And I'm sorry, too, Chief. I shouldn't have put you in a situation that you weren't prepared for."

Blair looked away and answered in a sarcastic tone. "Yeah, I sure couldn't handle it, could I?"

Jim stood and moved over to sit beside Blair on the sofa. "That's not what I meant, Blair. I guess I'm getting so used to having you around on the job that I forgot that you're not a cop, you didn't have any experience with something like this. I just took it for granted that you'd be able to, well, bluff your way through it, like you always do. I didn't really think about you and Maya as individuals, and what might happen. That wasn’t fair to you, and I'm sorry.

To tell the truth, I think you handled yourself pretty well. Maya told me how you tried to save her from Vargas. That was really brave, Chief. Don't get down on yourself about this." He reached over and put a supportive hand on Blair's shoulder.

Blair looked up doubtfully. "You mean that?"

Jim smiled and gently clapped him on the shoulder. "Yes, I do. And I'm sure that your testimony in the case will be very helpful. We should be able to put Carasco away for a long time. Why don't you tell me everything that happened, everything that you saw and heard that you can testify about. If we go over it first, it should make it a lot easier when ATF interviews you."

They spent the next half hour going over the events of the last couple of days from Blair's perspective. Jim said little, asking an occasional question for clarification, but mainly letting Blair tell his own story. He kept a carefully composed expression on his face as Blair told of being slugged after hearing Carasco discussing his plans with Vargas, waking up bound and gagged in the greenhouse, and being threatened with a machete by Carasco. He listened sympathetically as Blair told of Maya's efforts to help him, being caught by Vargas, and Vargas punching him out while holding the machete. No wonder he looked so beat up. Jim silently promised himself that he would never put the kid in danger like that again.

Jim noticed that there were parts of Blair's narrative that were noticeably brief or seemed to be edited in the telling, the parts that included Maya. He decided to pass on that for now and filled Blair in on what else had happened while he was at the Carasco estate. Blair listened quietly, only asking a few questions at the end about the legal process and what he would have to do. Jim did the best he could to explain it, but also said that D.A. would probably be talking with him about it before the case came to trial.

Blair stood stiffly and wandered over to the balcony windows, sipping at his now-cooled tea, and asked what had been uppermost in his mind for much of the discussion.

"What about Maya? Is she going to be asked to testify against her father? She really didn’t know what he was doing, even Vargas admitted that. Will she be deported? What…" His voice trailed off as he couldn't quite put all of his concerns into words.

"I don't know, Blair. I believe that she didn't know about her father's business, otherwise Vargas wouldn't have wanted to kill her to protect him. Will she still be asked to testify about anything, and might she be deported…I don't know. We'll have to ask the D.A. I'm sure that our testimony in her support will help."

Blair looked back at him and smiled at Jim's use of the word "our," glad that he could count on Jim's support. The smile quickly faded and he turned back towards the windows. Jim could see his sad reflection in the window, and decided to plow ahead.

"And what about you and Maya, Chief?" he asked kindly. He could see moisture pooling in the reflection of those expressive blue eyes as Blair responded.

"I don't know, Jim. She…after she found out that you were a cop, she said it was over. I know that she tried to help me escape Vargas and her father, but about the two of us…I don't know."

"I'm sorry, Blair."

"Yeah, me too," Blair said in a strained voice. "Before that she…we…" He had to stop to clear his throat before he could go on. "She told me it was going to be her first time. But I couldn't…" He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, then at his throbbing temple.

Jim took in a long, deep breath. Blair hadn't told him that things had become that serious. Now the pieces finally began to fall into place, and he began to understand why this case had been so hard on his friend, not just physically but emotionally. He felt a surprising sense of pride in and burgeoning respect for the young observer, that even though he had real feelings for Maya, he had restrained himself. It showed a strength of character that he previously hadn't seen, or hadn't paid attention to, before. The man that was Blair Sandburg was indeed a puzzle that he was only just beginning to see the pattern of, he realized. He tried, unsuccessfully, to find something to say to fill the silence.

Blair took a deep breath, brushing his hair back off of his face, and turned back into the room. He walked over to the table and set his mug down, head down and eyes aimed at the floor. Jim jumped up and joined him in the kitchen area.

"Hey, how about some more tea?" he asked hopefully, trying to break the tension. Without waiting for a reply he picked up the kettle and turned to fill it at the sink.

"No, thanks. I'm not feeling too good, I think I'm just gonna go lie down again."

Jim turned quickly and visually assessed Blair from across the room. "Are you all right?"

Blair slowly shuffled towards his room, turning to respond at the doorway and finally letting his sorrowful eyes meet Jim's.

"No," he admitted softly. He tried to muster up a smile for Jim's benefit. "But I will be. Good night, Jim." He walked into his bedroom and pulled the curtain, and moments later Jim saw his bedside light go out.

Setting the kettle down, Jim replied loud enough for Blair to hear. "Good night, Chief. I'll be checking on you later." He turned off the kitchen lights and wandered into the living room, turning on the TV and turning the sound almost all of the way down. Jim had already decided that he would just stay up instead of setting an alarm to get up every hour. He would feel better staying awake to monitor Blair throughout the night, just to be safe. After the last couple of days, safe sounded good.

It was going to be a long night for both of them, waking Blair up every hour to check up on him. Jim hoped that Blair would sleep, knowing that a good night's sleep could help Blair not only to feel better physically, but to gain a little perspective on things. He felt badly that Blair blamed himself for some of the turns the case had taken, but he knew that the kid was resilient, he had to have been to have survived their few weeks as partners so far. If he could survive Kincaid, Lash and Brackett, he could make it through this.

As to his relationship with Maya…Jim decided that he would try to contact her first thing in the morning, under the guise of checking her availability for an interview. He didn’t know what he really could do, but figured that helping her through the difficult next few days ahead might help Blair as well, might help ease his mind. Jim owed him that much, since he was the one who had thrown them together in the first place. Part of him wished that Blair would learn to "check his emotions at the door," as Blair had described the occasional need for emotional detachment on the job, but another part of him knew that it would probably never happen with the young observer. And part of him hoped that it never would.

Having decided on a course of action, he stretched out on the sofa and found an old black and white movie to watch on TV. He settled in for the night, his eyes focused on the TV screen, but his thoughts and senses focused on the weary young man in the other room.

THE END