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. Drama, Angst.

THANKS TO: As always, 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 one is for DawnC, her themefic for the Sentinelangst List. Thanks, listmom, for all the fun.

Feedback is always welcome.

by

"Jim, I can't believe you did that! You have a death wish or something?"

Blair stared over at the driver of the truck as they waited for the light to change.

"Look, I apologized, didn't I? What do you want from me?" Jim shook his head as he stared at the light, impatient for it to change.

"If we end up pulling double shifts all week…I'll think of something," Blair said threateningly.

He still couldn't believe his partner. In the middle of a serious meeting with the department psychiatrist about dealing with citizens with holiday depression and "millennium madness," Jim had suddenly burst out laughing for no apparent reason. He had quickly turned it into a coughing fit, but no one in the room had been fooled. Blair had looked up from taking notes, startled, and saw the "if looks could kill" glare that Captain Simon Banks was aiming in their direction. He had kicked Jim under the table and whispered "Cool it, man" from behind a covering hand, and Jim had quickly gotten himself under control.

The psychiatrist had been distracted from his prepared talk and couldn't find his place, so everyone had been treated to a droning repeat of several pages of his lecture. Finally grinding to a welcome halt, everyone in the room had murmured their thanks and left the room at light speed. Everyone except Ellison and Sandburg, who had been asked to stay. They shook the psychiatrist's hand and told him how much they had learned from his presentation, and Jim had apologized for his "coughing fit."

After Dr. Simms had left, they had received a stern lecture from Simon on taking mandatory meetings more seriously, along with a threat to make them respond to all calls involving possible "mental" cases since they seemed to already know everything about the subject.

"I was just trying to stay awake, Chief, by looking around the room and reading everybody's notes on the lecture. I was listening the last time we got Simms' talk, last month, and I don't think he changed a word in the whole presentation. How was I to know that Simon was actually writing a poem to his new girlfriend? A poem? Simon?" He started chuckling again at the thought.

Blair had to admit that the image of the normally gruff captain composing poetry was just this side of mind-blowing, and was unable to stifle a small grin himself. Besides, it was too good a day to spend being angry. He gave in to his curiosity.

"All right, give. What did it say? How mushy was it?"

"Oh, no you don't. I'd have to have a death wish to tell you that. Just drop it, Chief." Jim reached over and turned up the radio, a clear signal that the discussion was closed. "So where is it that we are going again, wasting our afternoon off?"

Blair couldn't help but bounce lightheartedly in his seat.

"To Mega Computer, Jim. Three blocks past the mall. They're having this big sale for the next two weeks, and I thought that I could do some comparison shopping while I picked up a box of disks."

"Comparison shopping? You planning to buy a new laptop?" There was a slightly nervous tone to the question that brought an even bigger smile to Blair's face.

"No. I want to be able to pick out a really good deal when Naomi takes us out, next week, to buy me a desktop computer for my Christmas/Hanukkah present."

"What?" Jim blurted out as he almost drove off of the road.

He chuckled out loud. "It's all right, Jim, I promise that I'll act surprised when she gets here. I always do. Naomi's never been very good at that covert stuff."

"How long have you known?"

"Well, I already had my suspicions, but they were confirmed the other day when she called you to discuss it."

"You weren't even there! How did you know?"

"Jim, you must have been in the shower or something, because the answering machine had already picked up by the time you got to the phone. You forgot to erase it afterwards. I heard a good part of your conversation when I came in late that night and checked the machine."

Jim groaned. "Naomi will kill me if she finds out that you know. She sounded so excited about getting you that computer and coming to visit, even if a little late, for the holidays."

"She's not the only one. We haven't always been able to spend holidays together in the last few years, and it's great that she's going to be visiting for a whole week. And don't worry about the computer, I've had years of practice at pretending to be surprised at her gifts. She's never been very good at being subtle or hiding things, but you gotta love her, man."

"That you do, Chief. That you do."

Blair looked over at his partner's smiling face, and spoke up, only partly in jest. "Hey, that's my mom, Jim."

"And aren't you lucky?"

Both men smiled then, the same interchange having been repeated several times in the last few years, a comfortable acceptance between them of the uniqueness that was Naomi Sandburg and her place in their lives. Blair started unconsciously tapping out the rhythm of the song on the radio, visions of huge hard drives and high-speed modems dancing in his head.

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

"Look, Chief, I'm gonna wander around a little bit, okay? See what else they've got in here."

"Sure, Jim, go ahead. I just wanna take a closer look at these three, I won't take too long." Blair tore his attention away from the 21" monitor in front of him and looked up into the bored face of his partner. "And that Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Screensaver was two rows back, I think," he grinned as he turned back to the monitor in front of him.

Jim gave him a gentle swat to the back of the head and walked off in the indicated direction. Damn, the kid was observant, he thought.

He sauntered up and down the rows of computers, stopping occasionally to watch a screensaver in action. It was amazing what you could get as a screensaver these days, he mused. The days of flying windows and flying toasters were long gone. The store was practically deserted, being two days after Christmas, but there were still a few shoppers checking out the sales. He paused and stood behind a couple of kids playing a complicated game and started wondering just how many games came packaged with a new computer these days.

Just as he turned and started heading back towards the sale aisle, where Blair was still comparing, he heard a familiar but out-of-place sound from the front of the store. He looked up just in time to see a disheveled man in a long coat finish racking an automatic rifle and begin firing into the store. Sweeping the two kids off of their feet with a wide-flung arm, Jim turned towards the back of the store and started to run towards his partner.

Looking up and planning to shout a warning, he discovered that he was already too late. Almost in slow motion, he saw the computer monitor in front of Blair explode as it was struck by bullets, his face directly in the path of the explosion. Blair's glasses flew off of his face and he was slammed back into the row of computers behind him before crumpling to the floor.

The continuing rain of gunfire, punctuated by the occasional explosions of electronic equipment and screams from other shoppers, continued to assault Jim's senses as he crouched low and crawled down aisles and around corners. Even as he struggled to make it through the debris now littering the aisles, he fought to filter out the noises of the assault and focus his senses. He needed to be able to find a familiar heartbeat, a familiar scent, ahead of him. His prayers were answered as he rounded one more corner into the sale aisle and ran right into the legs of his partner.

Blair was lying on his side in the aisle facing away from him, bits of electronic debris scattered over his body. Jim brushed away the pieces as he crawled up towards Blair's head, adrenaline racing as he smelled the distinctive odor of blood, but also gratefully hearing breathing and a heartbeat. Not seeing any serious injuries from that angle, he reached over, putting one hand at the back of Blair's head to support it and the other on his hip, and gently pulled him over onto his back.

Jim gasped as Blair's battered face came into full view, and he fought the sudden wave of nausea that washed over him in response. The monitor's explosion had thrown out a burst of flame and hundreds of shards of metal, plastic, and glass, and Blair had taken the brunt of it. Much of his face was reddened with burns or blackened with soot, and dozens of cuts and gashes covered him from forehead to chest. Blood was seeping everywhere. Many of the cuts still held pieces of monitor within them as Jim stared in horror.

He put a hand on Blair's chest, below the line of the injuries, and reassured himself with the continuing rise and fall there and the steady throbbing of Blair's pulse. Taking a deep breath, he gathered himself and pulled out his cell phone, hurriedly dialing for assistance.

"This is Detective James Ellison, Cascade PD. Badge number 16627. We need a full emergency response team to Mega Computer, corner of Washington and Pine. Officer down. There is at least one armed man, with automatic weapons, who is shooting up the place. He is still in the store, it's unknown if there are other perpetrators or other injured persons. There were approximately 10 other civilians in the store when this started. Get that team on the way, then connect me with Captain Simon Banks of Major Crimes. I'm going to leave this connection open, so don't cut me off. Do it now!"

Setting the phone down beside him, he barely noticed that the gunfire had stopped as he pulled his jacket off and draped it over Blair's body, carefully drawing it up only to just below the line of cuts and punctures on his chest. He had just set about gauging his partner's injuries when he felt a faint movement, and he felt Blair's hand brush weakly against his leg as a soft gasp reached his ears. He reached down to quickly capture Blair's trembling hand as he raised it towards his face, and leaned down to speak softly into his ear.

"Blair, don't move. You hear me, Chief? Just lie still and don't move, it's gonna be all right."

He was answered with a moan, and Blair's legs stirred. Just as Jim began to reach out with his free hand to stop the movement, Blair's eyelids fluttered only briefly before stopping as a gasp of pain escaped his lips.

"Oh, Jesus…" whispered out in a strangled tone.

Jim clutched Blair's hand harder as he struggled to raise it to his face.

"Blair, it's Jim. You hear me? Don't try to open your eyes, you've got some burns and scratches on your face. It's probably better to keep them closed. You hear me?'

He could feel Blair's heartbeat skyrocketing, whether in pain or fear, or both, he didn't know. His other hand moved to rest on the lower part of Blair's chest, trying to reassure his friend.

"Jim…?"

"That's right, it's me. There's been an accident, and you got hurt. Just lie still, help is on the way."

"God, Jim, my eyes…they're on fire. Feels like knives sticking in. My eyes…" His voice dropped off as he coughed hoarsely, his entire body vibrating with each cough.

"Blair, take it easy. Don't move, and don't try to talk. You've got a lot of burns and cuts, and you probably swallowed some smoke." Jim rubbed at Blair's lower chest gently until the coughing subsided. Blair took a few gasping breaths before speaking up again.

"What happened?"

"Some man came in with an automatic and started shooting up the place. I think that some bullets hit the monitor that you were looking at and it exploded in your face."

"…still here?"

"I think he's still here, but he's stopped firing. I can hear someone talking, it could be him. I called for help, it's on it's way, so you've just gotta hang in there. OK, buddy?"

"…you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I was out of the line of fire. Blair, I need you to lie still and quiet, we don't want to draw the attention of this guy right now." He turned his attention briefly to his cell phone, not hearing a voice on the other end, then turned back. "I'm gonna check you out, OK? Tell me where it hurts."

"My eyes, my eyes are killing me."

"I know, Chief. You've got some burns around them and it looks like some cuts. I can't really tell how serious they are, but it looks like your glasses deflected the worst of it. What else?"

"Ummm, I don't know…my head hurts…my throat. Neck, arm..." His voice trailed off.

"OK. I'm gonna take a look. Try to relax, OK? Maybe you can practice one of your breathing exercises."

"…right..."

Jim gave his hand a squeeze before lowering it to the floor. Reaching for Blair's head and gently running his fingers through his hair and over his scalp, he could feel a slight lump on the back, but no blood there. Numerous small cuts graced the top of his head and the areas above his ears, which were damp in spots with blood, but none seemed serious.

Looking down to Blair's chest, he noted that his leather jacket had dozens of pieces of monitor embedded in it. Opening the jacket, he gratefully discovered that the jacket and Blair's usual layers of shirts had saved him from many more cuts. The heavy odor of blood led him to pull the jacket open wider, and he found a graze from a bullet slicing across the outside of his left shoulder. It was bleeding steadily but slowly, and Jim tied his handkerchief over the outside of his jacket, over the wound, to place some pressure on it. Not finding other major injuries, he turned all of his attention to Blair's head and neck area.

Dozens of cuts and punctures covered his face, neck and the part of his chest that hadn't been covered by his leather jacket. Looking them over one by one, Jim could see that some pieces of shrapnel were deeply embedded, likely all the way to bone. Blair was bleeding steadily, but facial wounds always bled a lot and it didn't necessarily mean that they were serious. There was a deep gash in his neck that worried him, a piece of glass visible in the wound. The cut seemed to be right in the area of the carotid artery, and was bleeding steadily but, fortunately, was not pulsating with his heartbeat. Jim hoped that the artery wasn't cut, but feared that any movement by Blair, or Jim's attempts to remove it, could nick the artery. Blair could bleed out in minutes if that occurred.

Finally, he turned his attention to Blair's eyes. His eyelids were reddened by burns with some gray streaks of soot, but he couldn't see any signs of blistering. That was good. There were some scratches on his eyelids, but nothing like the cuts over the rest of his face. He couldn't tell if anything had penetrated his eyes or eyelids just from looking, and he wasn’t going to ask Blair to open his eyes to try to find out. It could just make matters worse. His face was already beginning to swell from the damage, and Jim hoped that it wouldn't add pressure to areas that were already painful.

He could tell that Blair was in a lot of pain. The parts of his face that weren't reddened or blackened were ghostly pale. His heartbeat was rapid, and his breathing was shallow and fast. His legs moved restlessly against the floor, and Jim could see the trembling in his hands and arms as they lay over top of his jacket. Occasionally a moan would escape his lips, even as Jim could tell that he was trying hard to stay still and quiet. He tried to ignore the scarlet halo that was slowly growing on the carpet around Blair's head and neck as blood trickled through his hair to the floor.

Jim looked around for something that he could use to help Blair. He was fairly certain that Blair was going into shock, between the burns, the blood loss, and the pain. He located a box and pulled it over, lifting Blair's legs and settling them on top. Crawling down the aisle, he grabbed two computer speakers and dragged them back to Blair.

"Chief?"

"Yeah, still here." Blair swallowed painfully, his voice small and rasping. "How's it look?"

Jim tried to keep his voice calm and matter-of-fact. "It looks like you took a bullet to the arm, it's just a flesh wound, though. You've got lots of cuts, and some of them have some bits of glass and plastic in them that they'll have to get out in the hospital. There's a nasty cut in your neck, so don't move your head or neck around, it might make it worse."

"What about my eyes?" He could hear the barely restrained panic in that voice.

"I don't know, Blair. There's some burns there, they don't look too bad, some small cuts, and some swelling. I can't tell how serious it is."

"Jim, be honest with me. Please, man, tell me the truth."

He grasped Blair's uninjured shoulder gently. "I am, Chief. I just can't tell. We'll just have to get you out of here as soon as possible and to the hospital. For now, I want you to try to relax and don't move. I'm gonna put something on each side of your head, to help you keep your head and neck still. Here it comes." He slid a speaker on each side of Blair's head, pushing them gently into place against him. "Is that okay? Is it hurting you?"

"It's okay."

A deep voice bellowing from his cell phone got his attention.

"Hold on, Chief, that's Simon on my cell phone." He picked up the phone and held it to his ear, looking around to see if the shooter was in the vicinity. "Yeah, Simon, it's Jim."

"Jim, what the hell's happening there? Are you and Sandburg all right?"

"Right now we're keeping our heads down, Simon, as far as I know the shooter's still in the store. Blair's injured, and we need to get him to a hospital. Thank God I can hear the sirens, so help is on it's way."

"How badly is he hurt?"

Jim looked down at his injured friend. He could tell by the rhythmic pursing and relaxing of Blair's lips that he was trying to use a breathing exercise to stay calm and help the pain. He was having little success, though, Jim could tell by his racing pulse and the white-knuckled grip he had on the jacket draped over him. He reached over, placing his free hand on Blair's hands, hoping that the physical contact would help to calm him.

"He's got a bullet wound on the arm. A monitor exploded and he's got cuts and burns on his face and his eyes."

Jim heard clearly the sharp intake of breath on the other end.

"Sweet Jesus. Is he conscious? Can he hear you?"

"Yeah."

A deep sigh filled the speaker. "Look, Jim, I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few minutes. Tell Sandburg to hang in there."

"Simon, I can hear this guy talking. It's like he's giving a speech, or a sermon, or something. Rambling, almost. Talking about the millenium, technology betraying us, computers taking control of our lives…Y2K…it sounds like he was wanting to shoot up the computers, not the shoppers. Better get one of those mental health experts down here, he sounds like he's right on the edge."

"He's way over the edge, Jim. I'll tell them, though, it may be helpful."

"Hurry, Simon. I'll feel better knowing you're in charge of the scene."

"Just hold on, Jim. You and Blair, just hold on."

"You got it, Simon. I want to leave this line open, so we can keep in contact, okay?"

"Will do. I'll be there in ten."

Jim could hear a soft thud as Simon set his phone down. Setting the open phone off to the side, he turned back to his partner.

"Blair?"

"Yeah…"

"I can hear sirens. Help is coming, buddy."

"Good."

He visually checked Blair over again. The bleeding from some of the smaller cuts on his face and neck was slowing. The area around his eyes seemed more swollen, though, and Jim could see that one of Blair's hands would occasionally begin to rise up towards his face before he regained control and pulled it down to join the other hand on his chest. Jim could only imagine how much self-control it was taking Blair to remain mostly silent and still in the face of his pain and fear. He squeezed Blair's forearm gently as he repositioned his jacket on his chest.

"Chief, I need to take a look around. I've got to leave you for a couple of minutes, all right? I need to find out where the shooter is, if there are other shooting victims, what's going on. I need you to lie as still and quiet as you can, okay? I'll be back in just a minute."

"Sure, Jim." A ghost of a smile crossed his battered face, and Jim was touched that Blair was trying to reassure him. "Don't worry, I won't wander off."

Jim reached down and gently grasped Blair's hands, and received a quick, hard squeeze in return before Blair reluctantly broke the contact. With one more reassuring pat on Blair's arm, Jim crawled to the end of the aisle and carefully looked around. From that vantage point, he couldn't see anyone else in the area. Dialing up his hearing, he was startled to hear footsteps heading right for them. He had been so focused on his concern for Blair that he hadn't even noticed that the voice from the front of the store had stopped and that someone, likely the shooter, was approaching. It was too late to do anything about it.

He looked up as camouflaged legs and booted feet filled his view. Seconds later he was face to face with an AK-47.

"You! Stand up and move to the front of the store with the others. Move it!"

Jim stood slowly, his hands raised in what he hoped was a non-threatening manner, and sized up the gunman. The man looked to be in his 30's, tall and thin, and his dirty blond hair was matched by a scruffy blond beard. He was clothed in mismatched military garb, a long olive drab coat over camouflage pants and jungle boots. The many pockets of the coat appeared to be full and weighted down, both inside and out. The end of a clip stuck out from one side pocket. When he raised the automatic weapon towards Jim's chest as he rose, his long coat slipped open and Jim's heart skipped a beat as he saw what the coat had previously disguised.

Taped around the man's chest were several bricks of C-4 explosive, topped by what appeared to be a timer and detonator.

Jim swallowed and raised his eyes to meet those of the shooter. Watery gray eyes flicked back and forth from Jim's face to both sides. His face was damp with sweat, and Jim was dismayed to discover that he was literally shaking in his boots. Jim saw fear and uncertainty written all over the man's face. Looking down briefly at the gun, he could see the gunman's fingers twitching over the trigger.

Uncertain as to how the gunman might react to an injured victim, Jim decided to try to draw his attention away from Blair. He knew that some terrorists would kill off any injured hostages rather than allowing them to be a distraction or hindrance. He began to edge around the nervous man and towards the front of the store. If he could keep the man's focus on him, he might not notice Blair lying at the far end of the aisle. He also knew that if he was to have any chance to overpower or take out the shooter, he couldn't do it when Blair was a nearby, incapacitated and therefore easy target.

Just as he had managed to get the shooter to turn his back towards Blair, by continuing to move slowly towards the front of the store, his plans were shattered by a pained moan behind him. Hoping that Blair hadn't been heard by the shooter, he kept moving, shuffling his feet in the debris to make a distracting noise.

But it was too late. The shooter jerked to a halt, the barrel of the gun quickly rising to point into Jim's face as he took a quick step back and glanced around nervously.

"Hold it! What was that?"

Jim froze, keeping his hands up in the air. Before he could answer, another moan sounded behind him.

The shooter jerked again. "Someone's back there. You! Turn around and walk back there. Move it!"

Reluctantly, Jim turned and walked towards the back of the store, back towards Blair. As they turned into the aisle and walked towards his fallen partner, Jim could hear the gunman gasp behind him as he spotted Blair lying on the floor.

"Oh, no…" he gasped as he stopped several feet away. "Is he dead?"

Jim kept walking slowly ahead until he reached Blair, then knelt by his head. "No, he's not dead. But he's badly injured and needs to get to a hospital." He began to reach down to Blair but was interrupted by an angry shout.

"Keep your hands up! Don't try anything."

Holding up momentarily to answer, Jim kept his voice even and controlled. "I'm not going to try anything, I'm just going to see how he's doing. He's my friend."

The gunman didn't respond immediately, and Jim put his hand slowly back into motion, reaching down to grasp one of Blair's wrists. His pulse was rapid and thready, and his shallow, gasping breaths were punctuated by occasional moans. He squeezed Blair's hand in his, calling out softly.

"Blair? You with me, buddy?" Not getting any response, he squeezed harder and tried again. "Come on, Chief."

He finally received a slight pressure from the cool hand resting in his, and Blair turned his head slowly in his direction.

"Jim?" he whispered out.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you doing?"

"Not too good. We getting out of here?"

"Not yet, Chief, not yet." Jim's calm and reassuring tone belied the fear and uncertainty he felt.

The gunman spoke up loudly behind them.

"All right. Get him up and let's get going."

Jim glared up at him in disbelief. "Look at him! He needs medical attention. Let me call for an ambulance to get him to a hospital. Then I'll do anything you want."

"No! No one's getting out, and no one's coming in." The gunman sounded on the edge of hysteria, practically shouting. "Everybody's got to go to the front of the store. So you get him moving, I don't care if you have to carry him or drag him."

"He shouldn't be moved. Look, he can't hurt you. Why don't you just let him go…"

Taking a quick step forward, the man swung the gun around and down until it was pointing directly at Blair's chest.

"I told you, get him up and to the front of the store. I don't have time for this. Don't make me…" His quavering voice trailed off, but Jim had no doubts as to what he meant by his words and the angle of the gun. If he didn't get his partner up and to the front of the store, the shooter would kill Blair there and then.

Jim struggled to contain his anger, knowing that Blair's life, and likely the lives of everyone in the store, depended on him keeping his cool. He needed to try to stay calm and in control if he was to find a way to deal with the obviously unstable gunman. He had never dealt with a perpetrator like this before, one who seemed aghast at seeing that he had harmed someone one minute, then threatened to kill the same person a moment later. As much as he hated to do so, he would have to do what the man said, at least until he could figure out a plan of action.

"OK, OK, give me a minute here. I'll see what I can do."

"Hurry it up! Get him up." The gunman shuffled from one foot to the other, nervously wiping the sweat from his face as he hovered nearby.

Jim laid a hand on Blair's shoulder.

"Chief, I'm sorry, but we need to move. Are you with me?"

"Yeah, I heard," Blair rasped out in reply. "Uh, give me a hand up…"

"Wait, don't move yet. Let me move a couple of things first."

Reaching down towards Blair's feet, Jim removed the box that he'd had propping them up and settled his legs back down on the floor. Pulling the speakers away from Blair's head, he pushed them to the side, in the same motion pushing his open cell phone over and under the edge of a counter. Glancing up quickly, he saw that the gunman was looking around him and hadn't seen his move. He hoped that Simon had heard the interaction and would realize how unstable and dangerous the shooter was. Shoving away some other debris in the area, he returned his attention to Blair, removing his jacket and setting it aside.

"All right, Chief, ready to get up?"

"Sure, ready when you are." Jim could tell that Blair was anything but ready, but they had no choice.

"OK. Let's get you sitting up first." He reached an arm around Blair's shoulders and helped him up to a sitting position. Even as he did so, he could feel the trembling in the muscles under his hand and the increase in his breathing as he gasped from the pain of the movement. He rubbed his hand gently across Blair's back for a moment in reassurance. "I'm sorry, buddy, I know it hurts. Try to keep your head up and don't move your head or neck around too much, we don't want that cut on your neck to open up any more."

"You got it," Blair responded breathlessly. He reached over, his searching hand finding Jim's chest and grabbing a handful of his shirt, seeming to need that anchor as he struggled to stay upright.

Jim placed his hand over Blair's for just a moment, then pulled it away and firmly grasped both of Blair's wrists, maneuvering himself directly in front of his partner. He felt a wave of anxiety sweep through him again as he looked directly into Blair's face, the damage there looking even worse at that angle. He couldn't help but stare at the burned and swollen eyes in fear. Dear God, he thought, let it look worse than it actually was. Don't take away his sight. He took a deep breath and shook himself, trying to find confidence to put in his voice.

"OK, here we go. You're gonna stand up on three. I won't let you fall, Chief."

"I know you won't," Blair whispered softly, and the trust that Jim heard in that voice tore at his heart even as it strengthened his resolve.

"All right…one, two, three…" He pulled Blair's arms upward as Blair struggled weakly to get his feet under him. Once he had gotten a couple of feet off of the floor Jim let go of one wrist and quickly slid to Blair's side, reaching an arm around his back and grabbing him firmly. Blair tilted towards him, almost falling before Jim grabbed his arm and pulled it up and across his own shoulders, grasping that wrist firmly. He held his partner firmly against his side, practically a dead weight as Blair seemed unable to gain his balance or have much strength to stand on his own.

Now that he had Blair upright, Jim wanted to get moving as quickly as possible. He was concerned that Blair might lose consciousness, and he wanted to get Blair lying down again fast.

"Move it, that way! Get to the front of the store with the others." The gunman waved the gun in the direction of the front of the store and stood aside to give them room to pass.

"All right, we're going. Can you pick up my jacket and bring it? I need to try to keep him warm." Jim looked directly into the gunman's eyes, watching as he seemed to consider it.

"Yeah, all right, just move it." The shooter reached down and grabbed the jacket as they began to move up the aisle.

They walked slowly and carefully up the aisle towards the front of the store, Jim softly encouraging Blair with every step. Progress was excruciatingly slow, shuffling along carefully to try to avoid tripping on the electronic debris that littered the aisles. Blair was just able to keep his feet moving, shuffling and stumbling along at Jim's side. Jim could feel him growing weaker as they went, his body trembling and his head beginning to dip and bob with every step. By the time they reached the front of the store, Jim was practically carrying his limp partner, Blair's occasional ineffectual attempts at keeping his feet moving the only sign that he was still conscious.

As they reached the front of the store, Jim saw the other shoppers lined up in front of the glass doors, standing shoulder to shoulder. There were nine people, all with their backs towards the door. They formed an effective barrier to keep anyone outside from being able to see what was going on inside.

The gunman came up behind them and poked Jim in the back with the rifle.

"Get up there with them, get in line."

Jim brought them to a stop. "I need to set him down, then I'll do whatever you want."

"Over there, then. Hurry up."

Taking a couple more slow steps, he stopped where the gunman had tossed his jacket, about 10 feet from the others. He carefully lowered Blair to the floor, easing his head and shoulders gently down and straightening out his arms and legs. Blair was limp and unresponsive as Jim settled him as best he could, pulling his jacket up over Blair's chest again and brushing his bloodied hair off of his face. Picking up one of the motionless hands, he noticed how cool it was as he gauged Blair's pulse and watched his chest rise and fall. He couldn't be certain, but it seemed that his pulse was weaker than before.

His concern for his partner grew, and he decided to make another plea to the shooter to let Blair go. He turned towards the gunman, just in time to see the butt of the rifle swing towards him before it connected with the side of his head.

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

His world gone black, Jim was unsure as to whether he actually lost consciousness or was just deeply stunned. He slowly became aware that the rough sensation on his cheek, and the faint dusty smell filling his nose, was the industrial-grade carpeting on the store floor that his face was lying against. As his senses began to return, he felt a dull ache become a throbbing pain in his left temple as he opened his eyes to take stock of his surroundings.

The boots of the gunman filled his visual field as he strove to focus his uncooperative and aching eyes. He rolled slowly over to his back with a groan and raised a hand to his head as a voice echoed painfully in his ears.

"I told you to get over there. Get up and get in line!" The shooter stood in front of him, nervously pointing his gun alternately at him and then at Blair.

He forced himself up to a sitting position, still feeling dizzy, and pulled his hand away from his head to find his fingertips damp with blood. Feeling gingerly at the side of his head, the cut didn't seem to be too big, but he could feel the swelling coming on. Wiping his hand on his trousers, he levered himself unsteadily to his feet, the pounding in his head increasing as he stood.

"All right, I'm going."

With a quick glance at Blair to make sure that he hadn't come to any further harm, Jim headed towards the others, walking slowly as he looked over the group of hostages. No one seemed to have been injured, other than a couple of cuts that he could see. Everyone looked terrified, however, and one elderly man looked quite shaky on his feet. As he reached the line, he glanced quickly out through the glass doors. Jim could see two squad cars already parked in front of the store, and a SWAT van just turning the corner down the street. He turned to face the inside of the store, and the gunman.

Pacing back and forth in front of the row of hostages, the gunman reached into an inner pocket of his coat and brought out a small battered spiral notebook. Opening it carefully, almost reverently, he held it open in front of him and began to read.

"You have to understand the real meaning of the millenium…" he began speaking, pacing even more rapidly. Jim focused on the pages of the worn book, struggling with his eyesight as the pounding in his skull continued. As the open pages came into focus, he could see that each page was entirely covered, corner to corner and edge to edge, with tiny, cramped writing. Working to maintain his visual focus, even as the shooter moved back and forth, he read some of the writing there.

It was practically gibberish. Sentences ran into one another, and it was difficult, if not impossible, to follow the writer's train of thought. He could make out Biblical references, sections of the constitution, quotes from speeches by Bill Gates, and mentions of government conspiracies. The popular phrase "Y2K" was written frequently throughout.

Looking up from the pages, he closed his eyes momentarily, the effort to maintain his intense focus on the moving notebook having drained him and worsened his headache. Taking a few deep breaths, he opened his eyes and studied the gunman.

Continuing in almost constant motion, the shooter read nonstop from his book. When he wasn't pacing back and forth, he was gesturing vigorously, waving the gun around in front of his hostages. His voice grew louder and faster, and Jim noticed that his face reddened and sweat dripped off of his chin. After a while, it appeared that he was no longer even looking at the notebook but was just rambling on his own. An almost ecstatic expression spread across his face.

As he listened to try to get a better understanding of the gunman, Jim gradually began to understand that the man's target had been the store and the technology within, not the shoppers. He began to work on a plan to get through to the disturbed man, to get him to release his hostages.

Even as he watched and listened to the gunman, he frequently looked over to his injured partner and focused his senses there. At times Blair was silent and motionless, apparently unconscious, frighteningly still except for the shallow movement of his chest. His wounds continued to bleed and blood soaked into the carpet around his head.

At other times he could see Blair's head moving slightly from side to side and hear an occasional soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. One of his hands had come out from under the jacket draped over his chest, and at times Jim could see it moving hesitantly, trembling weakly as it clenched and unclenched in the fabric of the coat. Jim noticed that, as time passed, Blair seemed to drift into and out of consciousness more often, and spent more time unconscious. He worked harder on developing a plan.

He was surprised to see that the gunman apparently heard some of Blair's moans as well, occasionally glancing over quickly at the sound and seeming to shudder whenever he heard it. His voice became louder and his movements even more agitated each time that he reacted to the noise that reflected Blair's pain. Jim was amazed that he could even hear him, but remembered hearing Blair say once that mentally ill persons often had heightened senses. He hoped fervently that the man's reactions meant that he still could feel some compassion for his partner's suffering, not that he was getting closer to killing him to stop the annoyance.

The sudden ringing of a phone startled everyone, sending Jim's hands flying up to cover his ears, his hearing painfully sensitive after the blow to his head. The gunman jumped, dropping his notebook and brandishing the rifle with both hands. He swung the barrel of the gun up to point it at the hostages and looked around wildly.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he screamed. Following the sound of the phone, he spotted it on a nearby desk. Moving rapidly, he turned his gun and unleashed a volley of gunshots, cutting a swath of destruction across the room and ending up at the desk, splintering the top and destroying everything on it. The hostages dropped to the floor, screaming and wailing as they cowered in terror. Jim crouched low as well, hands still covering his tender ears, his head throbbing and ears ringing with the auditory assault. The ringing stopped as the phone shattered into dozens of pieces.

Even with the phone silenced, the gunman continued to fire for several moments. Finally releasing the trigger, he turned back towards the hostages, red-faced and breathing heavily. With the hostages huddled on the floor, he could see out through the glass doors of the store, and spotted the heavy police presence. Grabbing the detonator on his chest, he dropped to one knee, trying to keep the hostages between himself and possible snipers, and shouted at the hostages.

"Get up! Get up now!" He waved the gun threateningly. "Shut up!"

The hostages stood, some still whimpering and holding their arms over their heads in a protective gesture, and resumed their shoulder-to-shoulder position. Jim slowly stood as well, struggling to dial down the pain in his head and regain control of his senses. As he did, and as the room quieted down, he could again hear Blair moan.

The shooter heard him as well, and glanced quickly over to him. "Stop that!" he shouted in Blair's direction, then turned his attention and the gun towards Jim. "You! Make him stop that!"

Jim looked at Blair, then spoke softly to the gunman.

"He can't help it. He's in pain, and I'm not even sure he's conscious."

The shooter looked at him, wild-eyed. "Make him stop it. I can't stand it anymore."

"Then get him out of here. Let the paramedics come in and take him out." He took a deep breath and decided to take a chance, praying that he had learned something from the psychiatrist's lectures. "Look, I know you don't want to kill anybody. If you did you could have killed all of us by now. He needs medical treatment, or he may die from his injuries. I know you didn't mean for him to get hurt, it was an accident, right?"

He thought that he saw the faintest hint of a nod, and a glimmer of understanding in the gunman's eyes, so he continued his plea.

"Let the paramedics come in and take him out to an ambulance. He's not doing you any good lying over there on the floor, he's just distracting you from what you need to do, isn't he?"

The shooter stared at him for a moment. Jim began to speak again, but something in the gunman's eyes told him that he was seriously considering Jim's plea. He decided to remain quiet and wait him out.

After a few moments, the gunman looked up at him and replied.

"All right. You…you go to the doors and tell them to send in the medics. But no cops, and no trying anything, or your friend won't need any help any more. Just outside the doors, no further! And you hold the door open so I can hear everything. Keep your hands in the air the whole time."

Almost weak-kneed with relief, Jim turned and raised his hands. Slowly walking to the glass doors, he opened one and stepped through, holding the door open with one hand.

"Hey! We need paramedics in here to remove an injured man. He said no cops and no trying anything, or people will get hurt. Get someone in here now!"

He remained standing in the doorway as he spotted the waiting ambulance halfway down the street. Searching the area, he spotted Simon Banks crouched behind a nearby vehicle with two officers in riot gear. One of the officers took off at a run towards the ambulance crew, and the other left and headed towards the SWAT van. Rising to his full height, Simon shouted out to him.

"We have the paramedics on their way. How many injured are there?"

"Just one, but he's badly hurt."

Nodding at his reply, Simon spoke again, barely moving his lips and speaking in a soft tone that only a sentinel could hear.

"Jim, can you hear me?" Jim nodded slightly in reply. "Is it Blair?" He nodded. "Does the perp know you're a cop?" He shook his head subtly and mouthed "no."

Simon nodded and spoke again, loudly so that the gunman could hear. "We're not going to try anything. But we would like to talk to you. Let us send in a cell phone with the paramedics so we can talk."

"No!" the gunman screamed. "No phones! I don't want to talk with anyone!"

Taking an involuntary step backwards at the panicked tone of the shooter's voice, Simon replied in a calm tone. "All right! We just don't want anyone else hurt. We'll just send in the paramedics now."

He nodded at the two paramedics, arriving with their gurney, and they started towards the store. As Simon watched them cross the parking lot towards the store, he again spoke only to Jim.

"Is that a real bomb he's got on his chest?"

Jim nodded carefully, keeping an eye on the medics, then making quick eye contact with Simon. He could see the helplessness reflected in his captain's expression, and tried to force a reassuring smile. Simon responded with a nod, and spoke again in a quiet tone.

"OK, Jim, we're not going to push anything. When you go back inside, keep listening for me. I'll try to keep in touch with you to let you know what's going on. If I have any questions for you, I'll keep it to "yes" and "no" answers. You can show me one finger for yes, and two fingers for no. OK?"

Jim nodded his assent, then turned to the approaching paramedics and opened the door wider to let them in, following them into the store. They walked in, past the line of standing hostages, then came to a sudden halt as the shooter approached. They all raised their hands as the gunman nervously patted the paramedics down for weapons, then backed off and gestured them towards Blair, keeping his gun trained on them.

The paramedics wasted no time checking Blair over, just got the gurney into place and got ready to transfer him. Jim knelt down at his head as the paramedics got on each side. He gently slid one hand under Blair's neck and one under his head, grimacing at the sticky coating of blood on much of his hair, then held his head in position as the men raised him up off of the floor. Settling him carefully on the gurney, the paramedics spread a blanket over him and fastened the straps to secure him for transport.

Jim let his hand linger on Blair's head for a moment, a benediction of sorts, as he looked into that ravaged face and whispered encouragement to his unconscious partner.

"Hang in there, Chief, you're gonna be all right. I'll be with you soon."

The paramedics gave him a reassuring glance, and began wheeling Blair towards the doors. Jim followed, only to be stopped by the gunman stepping into his path.

"Not you. Get over there with the others. Get back in line."

He slowly walked back into place at the end of the line, taking as much time as he could so he could watch them wheel Blair across the parking lot to the waiting ambulance. Seeing them lift the gurney into the back, he turned again to face the gunman. The scent of Blair's blood staining his hands threatened to overwhelm his senses, but he forced himself to get a grip. Blair was in good hands now, and as much as he desperately needed to be with him, the other hostages needed Jim to stay focused and in control now.