The big FBI agent's rough voice boomed out across the Major Crime bullpen and Blair cringed. Voice grating on Blair’s nerves, the big blond man faintly reminded him of someone he couldn't put a face or name to. It was all just an annoying tick at the edge of his mind, much like the agent. The man laughed, a deep, husky murmur that made Blair shiver unexpectedly.

Blair glanced anxiously around the bullpen. He knew Jim wasn't expected back for some time.

The flu had hit the police department throughout the city and many of the divisions were suffering from the large number of sick calls. In the spirit of interdepartmental cooperation, Simon lent Ellison to Vice for the morning to assist with the interrogation of suspects in a drug buy.

Simon still hadn't returned after escorting the reluctant detective to the third floor where Vice Division was located, off attending a meeting with the mayor.

Blair desperately wished Jim was here. The grating laughter rippled through the room again and Blair bowed his head, buried his face in his school books, and tried to make himself disappear behind the imagined safety of Jim's desk.

FBI Agent Tom Willis was in Cascade following up a lead on a new serial killer of young boys. And even though this new molester/murderer hadn't yet struck in Cascade, one of the suspects had originally come from Cascade. Willis was going through Major Crime‘s cases that were even remotely tied to the suspect or that had a similar MO.

Inevitably, Willis had come across the Marcus Keyes' case where Blair and Darryl had been the molester's victims. Willis had wanted to talk to Blair about the case personally, but Jim interceded on his behalf and refused to allow it.

Jim and Willis had clashed practically on sight, almost as soon as the agent had appeared in the department. Jim refused to let Willis bring up the subject again, demanding the agent stick to reading the detailed report.

Jim had even gone so far as to caution Blair not to be alone with Willis while the agent was in Cascade. Blair had reassured his father that the last thing he wanted to do was relive those horrific days again.

Joel was assigned to assist Willis in his research and the amicable man had taken it upon himself to act as a buffer between Willis and Jim, engaging the insistent agent in idle conversation as he helped Willis wade through the stack of files, distracting him from the overprotective sentinel and his overly energetic guide.

Glancing up, Blair startled as he caught Willis watching him study. The agent sat with one hip on H's desk, hands idly fanning a file folder in the air. Blair slipped down farther in his seat and bit his lower lip until tears sprang to his eyes. He wasn't sure what it was about Willis that set his nerves on edge. Maybe it was just the fact that the man was dredging up a part of his past he didn't want to think about again.

The nightmares about Keyes had tapered off after the man's mysterious death, but they still occasionally surfaced when Blair was extremely tired or stressed. Blair had a feeling tonight would be a sleepless one. Blair shivered at the thought.

Feeling the need for some reassurance, he reached up and pulled down the large overshirt Jim had worn to work in place of a light jacket. He stuffed his arms into the too-long sleeves and pulled the body of the shirt tightly around his thin frame, huddling into its warmth. He buried his nose in the folds of the fabric and let the mixed smell of Jim and soap and a sense of security wrap around him just like the shirt did. Blair smiled and picked up his text book, but his eyes met Willis' intent stare and Blair's smile slipped. Willis nodded at him and stood up from the corner of H's desk, eyes still locked on Blair.

Panic tightened his chest and Blair began to breathe faster as the agent took several steps toward him. Just when he thought he was going to have to bolt from the room like a scared child, Joel stepped in front of the man.

“Agent Willis, Tom. I was just on my way down to the evidence lockup. I know there are a couple of physical items stored that relate to the cases you're looking into. Want to come along for a look?” Joel placed a persuasive hand on the man's shoulder and began walking him out of the bullpen.

Willis tossed a curious look at Blair huddled in the chair, and then gave Joel an agreeable nod. “Sure, Joel, sure. I'd like to get a look at EVERYTHING you guys have to offer. Every piece of information I can get might help save a young boy's life.” He stressed the last sentence and threw a questioning glance at Blair.

Blair lowered his eyes, biting his lower lip until it blanched white. His right hand was busy worrying the callus on his thumb, so he used his left to raise his book higher in front of his face.

“You can have all the records and logged evidence the department has to officially offer, no problem. Let's go see what the lockup has for you.” Joel nodded and drew Willis out the swinging double doors and into the corridor.

Blair waited until he couldn't hear their voices any longer then hurriedly stuffed all of his books and papers into his backpack. Jumping to his feet, he skirted Jim's desk and trotted to the doors, ignoring the half-interested glances cast in his direction. There were usually only a few people lingering in the bullpen during the lunch hour and today was no exception. Even H and Rafe were gone, investigating a break-in.

Peeking out into the hallway, Blair slipped into the corridor and scurried off in the opposite direction Joel had taken Willis. Taking the elevator to the third floor where Jim was helping out, he came to a series of small conference rooms, bypassing two that were obviously in use. The door to the third room stood ajar and Blair slipped in and shut the door behind him. The thick door abruptly closed off the hustle and bustle of the noise from the rest of the building. Blair leaned against it and closed his eyes, sighing in relief at the sudden, welcome silence. He felt better just knowing Jim was somewhere nearby.

Sitting down at the small table, Blair spread his text books out over its uncluttered surface. He pushed up the sleeves of Jim's overshirt, took a deep calming breath to center himself, and tried to get back into his studies. Before too long, he was immersed in an ancient culture and his unease over Willis' interest in him faded.

A small poke of guilt prodded his conscience when he thought about Willis' implication that he might be able to give the agent new insight with the FBI's current case, but Blair knew he had given the Cascade detectives all he could remember during his and Darryl's recuperation. He also knew that if Jim thought that Blair could help Willis, he would be the first one to insist Blair talk with the man. Instead, Jim was doing everything he could to ensure Willis left Blair alone. Reassured by his father's actions, Blair ignored the shudder that suddenly raced down his spine and pushed all thoughts of Willis to the back of his mind.

- - -

In the last interrogation room on the third floor, Jim Ellison stared at the disheveled, arrogant suspect Vice had dropped on him and waited until the rail-thin man squirmed on his hard chair before breaking eye contact. The man smelled of old beer and cheap cigarettes, the odor making Jim's nose twitch and flare. Jim could see that the pupils of the suspect's eyes were unnaturally dilated for the amount of light in the room. His sentinel vision picked up traces of a fine white powder residue under the man's fingernails and on his clothing. Despite all of the suspect's bravado and smart mouth, his heart rate sped up and beads of sweat dotted his upper lip when he lied. The interrogation was going slowly, but Jim had a fair amount of information to show for his trouble.

Inwardly surprised, but to all outside appearances calm, Jim cocked his head to one side and zeroed his hearing in on a familiar sound. The thump-thump-thud of Blair's heart rapped at the edge of his hearing, a little fast, but steady and strong. It moved down the hallway then settled nearby. The sentinel relaxed, letting the sound of his guide's heartbeat continue to register on his subconscious, and turned an icy stare back on his suspect.

- - -

The unexpected click of the conference room door being opened filtered through the edges of Blair's concentration, but it wasn't until a small cardboard carton slid across the table that he actually looked up.

Blair felt the heat rise in his cheeks and his chest tighten. He wordlessly nodded at the new arrival and then slowly began to gather his work, trying not to make it seem like he was desperate to get away.

Agent Willis smiled at him and quietly closed the door. “Hey, there. It's Blair, isn't it?” Willis stood in front of the only exit for a moment.

Blair jerkily nodded. “Yeah, that's right.” He stuffed a few loose papers into a book and crumpled it shut.

“Joel told me to come in here to look over the things we picked up from the evidence lockup.” Willis moved closer. “I didn't know you were using it. They said this room was empty.”

Glancing up while he stacked his books, Blair shook his head and fumbled with a pile of uncooperative notes. “Ah, that’s okay, man. I just ducked in here for a little peace and quiet. The bullpen was kinda noisy for me to concentrate.” He stuttered and looked away, feeling a flush of embarrassment travel up his cheeks. “I'm – I was leaving soon anyway.”

Arms full of books and loose papers, Blair rounded the corner of the table. He leaned forward over the now empty flat surface to minimize physical contact and tried to slip past Willis' large, waiting frame, murmuring nervously, “Jim'll be looking for me.”

As Blair slunk by the agent, the text on the top of his armload toppled from the haphazard stack and tumbled down to flit across the table. Jumping for the falling book, Blair tripped over Willis' large feet.

As Blair staggered forward, one arm still reaching for the lost text, Willis reached out and grabbed Blair to steady him, wrapping his arms around Blair's torso, but Blair still hit the table hard with his thigh. “Slow down, kid. I don't bite.”

The impact jarred the cardboard carton Willis had set on the table. Something in the box shifted and the tinny notes of a Brahms Lullaby suddenly magnified the tension in the room.

“Hey, kid, relax! I'm not trying to hurt you! I'm trying to hold you up.” Willis tightened his hold.

Hot breath blasted down Blair's neck and the sound of the other man's grunted surprise echoed in his ears. Blair froze in place, memories of other arms wrapping around him, hurting him, abusing him, teeth that did bite, and hands that squeezed the air from his throat again and again, flooded his mind.

Mindless panic took hold of Blair as the lullaby stuttered to a stop then spit out a few more lethargic, memory-drenched notes. “Don't touch, don't touch me! Not again!”

Fighting off the confining hold of unfamiliar arms, Blair was surprised when he was quickly released. Stumbling back, his body pressed into a startled Willis. Blair dropped what was in his hands. He turned in the loose hold, swung his half-full backpack around as he shifted and slammed the heavy bag into Willis' confused face.

Gripping the backpack tightly, Blair tore free from Willis' arms and rocketed out of the room, door banging against the inside wall and stares from startled bypassers unseen. Heart racing and too-long shirttails flying, he barreled down the hall in search of safety.

- - -

Refuting the suspect's claim that he hadn’t used cocaine in weeks, Ellison stopped in mid-sentence, a sudden flare of unease intruding on his senses. His eyes focused on a spot somewhere on the far wall as he tried to pinpoint the cause of the tingly feeling raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Suddenly, the familiar rhythm of Blair's heart roared in his ears, beating out a frantic staccato. The Vice detective in the room with him gave Jim a strange, questioning look just before Ellison wordlessly bolted from the room.

Out in the hall, Jim ran past the open doors to the smaller conference rooms, eyes searching for some sign of his son. As he passed one open doorway, Willis lurched out, blood oozing from an abrasion over his left eye and a bruise forming on his cheek. Behind him, the tinkling notes of the Brahms Lullaby still played.

“What happened? Where's Blair?” Jim demanded.

“I don't know.” Willis shook his head to clear it. “He stumbled over my big feet on his way out the door, I caught him, some music box in the evidence carton got jarred and started playing, and he went berserk. I never said two words to him, Ellison, I swear.” The agent gave Ellison a confused shrug and mopped the blood out of his eye with a handkerchief.

Jim's eyes turned icy cold, but he only gave the man a brief stare. His guide and son was no longer there. Jim picked up his pace and darted after the fading sound of a jackhammer heart rate.

- - -

Dashing through the double doors of the Major Crime bullpen, Blair blindly wove through a maze of deserted desks and empty chairs. A patrolman sat with his back to Blair, talking on the phone, and one uniformed officer flipped through a stack of files in a cabinet, but neither glanced his way.

Blair paused in front of Jim's desk for a moment, but the wide open space and emptiness of the bullpen did nothing to relieve his fears. Gathering momentum, he scooted around the office furniture and escaped into the next familiar place that shouted safety at him.

Closing the door behind him, Blair pushed Simon's chair back and he crawled under the big wooden desk. Once tucked into the roomy leg space, backpack beside him and legs drawn up tightly to his chest, he closed his eyes. Lips pressed tightly together, Blair rocked back and forth.

Tremors making his teeth chatter, he let the mantra that had helped him keep his sanity once before run through his head. “Jim's coming, my dad will find me. Jim's coming, my dad will find me.”

- - -

Bursting through the doors to Major Crime, Jim paused only long enough to scan the bullpen and pinpoint the direction of Blair's heartbeat as it hammered in his ears.

Simon stood in front of Joel's desk, quietly speaking with the other detective. Both Joel and Simon turned at the force of Ellison's entrance, giving the sentinel a frown and a questioning look.

Jim hurried over to them, glancing anxiously around the room the entire time. “Where is he, Simon?”

“Where's who?”

“Blair. He's here, hiding.”

“Hiding?” Simon glanced at Joel. The rotund detective shook his head once and shrugged. “Joel and I just came back from lunch. I didn't see Blair come in here.” Simon relaxed and gave one of his deep bass laughs, exchanging a knowing look with Joel. “Okay. What did he do this time and how long do you need my office while you warm the seat of his pants for him?”

Jim shook his head and moved towards Simon's office, head cocked to one side as he listened. “No, that's not it. He and Willis had a little run in a few minutes ago. Willis had the music box Marcus Keyes played while... while he abused Blair. It got bumped and started playing and Blair freaked out. He's scared and he's not thinking clearly.”

Jim reached Simon's office and turned the door handle, slowly opening it. “He's in here.”

Simon and Joel joined him, twin frowns of worry marring their faces.

Slipping through the door, Jim scanned the office, seeing nothing out of place and nothing unusual. Jim couldn't see Blair but he knew his son was here. The murmured, frantic mantra of, “Jim's coming, my dad will find me. Jim's coming, my dad will find me,” echoed over and over again in his ears.

“Blair? Blair, I'm here. Calm down, kiddo, everything is going to be all right. I'm here.”

Moving cautiously to Simon's oversized desk, Jim pulled back the high-backed, cushioned chair and slid it out if the way. Crouching down, he looked under the thick desktop. Blair sat rocking in place, arms hugging himself, eyes tightly closed and lips moving in a faint litany of barely audible words.

At Jim's touch, his eyes sprang open and Blair dove at the detective. “I knew you'd come, Dad, I knew it.”

Jim pulled Blair into his arms and sat down on the floor, back pressed against the wall, arms wrapped securely around his trembling son. Mumbling a continuous string of nonsense words that were meant to soothe and reassure, Jim unconsciously fell into a familiar litany of gentle phrases. "It's okay, honey. I'm here. I'm right here. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm right here and you're safe. I promise, Chief. You're safe. Everything is going to be all right. I promise, Blair. You know how I feel about promises."

- - -