This is the standard disclaimer. They don't belong to me. This story is not intended to violate any copyrights held by Paramount, UPN, or Pet Fly Productions.

Reoccurring original characters Daniel Burke, Ethan James, Jackson Burr, and Ray Weston belong to me. Not to be used without permission, please.

WARNING-This story contains corporal punishment. Be warned.

Thank you to my beta Spacepixel, for all her hard work and marvelous suggestions. A special thank you to Lee, cheerleader extraordinaire', for all her enthusiasm and dedication.

"Pass the bread please, Chief."

Startled blue eyes jumped from their covert appraisal of the third person at the table and jerked up to meet the sentinel's own pale ones, confusion clearly evident in them.

"What? Oh, yeah, sure, Jim. I mean, yes sir, um, okay."

Jim allowed the half-smile tugging at his lips to have free reign. His light blue eyes shone with a combination of pride and amusement as he watched his young loft mate struggle to find a comfortable way to behave in front of their dinner guest.

Blair squirmed in his chair and glanced self-consciously at the man seated across from him. The calm, appraising, slightly bemused expression on the other man's face further unnerved the young man. As Jim reached for the breadbasket Blair pulled back his arm, attention focused on William Ellison. He failed to remember the water glass sitting under his arm, striking it with his elbow in his haste to respond quickly to Jim's request.

Glass met porcelain in a loud thud, water cascading across Blair's plate into his food. Jumping up, Blair managed to send his chair crashing to the floor at the same time he dropped his glass. The sound of splintering glass was overpowered by the clatter of silverware hitting the hardwood floor. Mortified, Blair stooped down in an attempt to catch the flying silverware and accidentally thumped his head hard against the edge of the table.

Momentarily dazed by the impact, Blair involuntarily dropped to a sitting position on the floor. One hand went to his throbbing temple as the other landed hard on the floor to brace his weight.

"Ow, ow, ow! Oh, man, that hurts!" Blair bowed his head and rubbed gently at his forehead.

Strong, warm hands covered his own and he automatically leaned into the solid body at his side for support. Eyes tightly closed in pain he started slightly when a cold compress was pressed to his swelling face. Soothing words reached him as the first burst of blinding pain receded to the background of his awareness.

Risking a squinted look up at his human support beam, Blair caught an upside down look at his Blessed Protector's exasperated face. Sliding his gaze to his left, Blair was surprised to see William Ellison kneeling beside him, pressing a cold pack to his temple, the concern and amusement in his eyes plain to see.

Embarrassment caused a red flush to creep rapidly up Blair's neck to blend into his hair at the top of his head. Embarrassment that was quickly forgotten as the elder Ellison suddenly grabbed the wrist of his right hand that rested on the floor and brought it up to Blair's eye level. Turning the palm up as blood dripped steadily to the floor, William exposed the several shards of glass imbedded in the flesh. A small gasp of dismay escaped the grad student.

"Ah, man! Not stitches, please, not stitches! I have a paper due. I can't type with stitches. I'm not going to the hospital again. Jim, tell me it doesn't need any."

"Easy, Chief. Just calm down and let me have a look at you." Jim tilted Blair's head up and looked at his pupils as he gently fingered the lump forming on Blair's head.

William snagged the fallen napkin and gently wrapped it around the bleeding hand to catch the mess, being careful not to put pressure on the slivers. He graced the young man leaning against his son with a stern look. Reaching out with his unoccupied hand he tapped a finger under Blair chin, diverting Blair's pleading look from his son's face to his own. His tone matched his unyielding expression. Blair blinked wide, startled eyes at the older man and swallowed hard. The steely gazed directed at him left no room for arguments or comments.

"If you need to go to the hospital, you'll go. If you need stitches, you'll get stitches. And you'll do it without complaining. And if you need convinced of that, I'll see to it that you're convinced. There won't be any of those creative excuses you came up with to avoid the things you don't like that I heard when you were in the hospital. Your health is more important than some school paper. Do you want to risk a permanent injury? Do we understand each other, young man?"

"No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. I mean…oh man, Jim. Help me out here, man."

A soft chuckle answered his nervous plea as one big hand tugged upward on his arm. Blair followed the unspoken command and allowed Jim to guide him up from the floor and into his now upright chair.

"You're on your own there, Junior. I agree with Dad and you know it." Jim's tone became darker and more serious, layers of hidden emotions simmering beneath the surface. "I need to call Dr. Walters. I don't know how these cuts will be affected by your tetanus shot immunizations not being completed yet. I don't know if the first one you got last week is enough without the booster that's due in 3 months."

Blair grimaced and looked up beseechingly at his larger caregiver. "Jim, not stitches and shots. Have a heart, Big Guy. My arm is still sore from the one last week." Blair found it hard to keep the whine out of his voice.

William mopped gently at the bleeding hand still held in his own. Glancing up in surprise, he gave his son a confused look.

"His tetanus should be fine if he just had one last week, Jimmy. They're good for several years, why worry if he needs another one?"

Jim pressed his lips into a thin, hard line and waited a moment to stop the flow of harsh words waiting on the tip of his tongue. Jim grimly unwrapped Blair's hand, taking it from his father's grasp slowly, sparing the older man an unhappy glance as he did so. Blair divided his attention between the two hovering men as Jim answered in a low, controlled tone.

"Could you get the splinter tweezers out of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for me, Dad?" Jim's raised eyebrows and a nod of his head indicated the back hallway. "Are you doing okay here, Chief?"

William frowned at his son's evasion but remained silent. He held his ground long enough to hear a whispered "I'm 'kay", then hurried off down the hall in the direction Jim had pointed him in.

After a brief inspection of the neat and orderly shelves, he returned to the table with the needed instrument in hand. Handing it off to his son's impatiently wiggling fingers, he returned to the bathroom. Muttering to himself over what appeared to him to be an excessive number of supplies for treating a variety of injuries, he picked out things he thought appropriate to Blair's wounds. Grabbing a wash cloth, he wet it thoroughly and took a clean hand towel with him on his way out the door.

William watched as his son skillfully and quickly removed glass shard after glass shard from the multiple shallow wounds in the small palm resting securely in Jim's larger one. Blair flinched and squinted his eyes at every successful tug of the tweezers but never once did he attempt to remove his hand from Jim's hold.

Jim paused a moment to touch Blair's cheek in reassurance after removal of a deeply imbedded chunk of glass. The younger man gasped a little at the sharp burn but nodded his head to signal the okay to continue. William Ellison smiled at the easy, unspoken language used between the two, the language gained through the familiarity of constant use and understanding, the language of family. The elder Ellison longed to be a part of that understanding, to have a part in his son's family. And that meant getting to know what was happening in their lives.

"You haven't answered my question, Jimmy. Why would the boy need another tetanus shot this soon?"

Removing the last piece of glass his enhanced vision could find, Jim heaved a small sigh as he took the offered washcloth and gently wiped the fresh and dried blood away from Blair's palm and wrist. Frustration tinged his voice.

"Because, Dad, his mother never had him immunized. I found out three weeks ago, but he's either been gone or sick until last week. He got his first set of shots then. His next ones are due in about three months."

"Not just tetanus, Dad, all of them."

Blair hung his head a little lower at the harshness of William Ellison's words. He recognized Jim's tone as an attempt at neutrality but knew if he could hear the underlying anger in his words then surely the man's own father could as well.

"I don't think you'll need stitches, but I still have to call about the shot. Sorry kiddo."

Lightly running his fingertips over the edges of the wounds, Jim satisfied himself that there were no hidden pieces of glass left under the skin then raised his head up to lock eyes with the amazed older man. Sparing a meaningful glance at the bowed head in front of him, Jim took a deep breath and tried to explain without condemning Naomi in front of Blair. A calm but quiet voice beat him to it.

Blair raised his head to look Jim's dad in the eye and swallowed hard. He really had wanted the older Ellison to like him, to understand what Jim meant to him and to welcome the man back into Jim's life again. Their first dinner together did not bode well for their future meetings.

"My mom said she didn't believe in immunizations back then. She still doesn't trust a lot of modern medicine. Anyway, if she would have gone to the trouble of having me immunized, she would have had to get forged copies of them too every time she changed my birth date. This way, she just skipped them and had a set made with my last passport change. But, they weren't real anyway."

Hurt and embarrassment were clearly evident in the young man's words and posture. William found himself regretting the earlier tone of his outburst after one look at Blair's forlorn and wounded expression.

"Son, this isn't the first time you've ever been hurt. Wasn't she concerned about this? And your travelling. I know Jimmy's said you have been all over the world at one time or another, most of them third world countries. How---?"

"Dad--"

"I guess, I guess she was willing to take the chance in exchange for the opportunity to see the world." Blair swallowed past the growing lump in his throat and lowered his eyes to examine his shoelaces. "Or maybe, she just doesn't care. I don't honestly know any more, but that's the way it is."

Jim grimaced slightly at the use of the present tense. Wrapping a fresh gauze roll around the cleaned and medicated wounds, Jim anchored the dressing to the small wrist in his grasp. As Blair pulled his hand back, Jim momentarily tightened his hold to press a reassuring touch to the subdued young man. Blair glanced up at Jim and let a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

Blair started as the weight of a second hand touched the side of his head where the eldest Ellison pushed tangled curls away from the newly forming bruise on his forehead. The touch was tentative and light, but strangely comforting to Blair. William's voice came out raw and husky with suppressed emotion.

"If she doesn't care, Blair, there are plenty of us right here who do."

Tears welled up in Blair's eyes but he blinked them back in confusion. Jim's arm automatically came across his shoulders in a protective embrace.

"T-thank you, Mr. Ellison."

William Ellison bathed in the pleased expression that quickly settled over Jim's face and laughed at the wide-eyed confusion that battled with indecision in Blair's.

"What's the matter, little boy? Can't a grandfather offer comfort without raising a few eyebrows in this home? Jimmy, what have you been teaching this boy? Maybe I better start spending more time over here, make sure he learns a few things right. Maybe, like dinner? Say, Wednesday nights?"

Jim broke out a tentative grin and rubbed gently over the wrist still in his hand, trying to calm the bounding pulse he found there.

"Yeah, Dad, I think maybe that might work. Schedules permitting."

William Ellison rubbed his hands together in delight and smiled back at his son.

"Schedules permitting."

Blair darted his attention from one man to the other in confusion at the speed things were moving between the two men. Last week he didn't believe this dinner would even happen, now the elder man was coming to dinner once a week.

Muttering, Blair declared softly, "Man, I must have hit my head harder that I thought."

*****************

Jason Dow stared at the gloss 4x6 photo once again going over every detail of the image, memorizing the man. Slipping the photo back into a folder on the seat of his car, Dow exchanged it for a single sheet of paper and began to remind himself of the pictured man's abilities and strengths. It wouldn't pay to be caught off guard by underestimating his opponent. Army covert ops training and years of physical honing wouldn't be enough on their own. His prey was intelligent, educated, seasoned and resourceful, with similar training and physical prose. A protector and defender. A modern day hero of sorts, if Dow was honest with his conscience. He would have to be quick, quiet and precise. There would be no second chances with this mark.

Dow set his lips in a hard line and clamped down on the little voice in the back of his head. He made his choices long ago and there was no going back at this stage, not if he wanted to live past tomorrow. The most he could hope for was to do as little damage as possible and follow his orders to the letter.

Allowing himself the luxury of a sigh, Dow filed the data sheet and returned to his sentry duty, watching and waiting for his prey to emerge from its safe haven of fellow protectors.

****************

Simon raised his cup and took a small sip of the rich coffee blend. Holding the oversized cup to his face to camouflage his expression, he peered over the top edge to eye the tall form lounging comfortably in his guest chair. Sensing a relaxed and less guarded attitude from the other man, Simon decided to pry a little into a dangerous zone of discussion.

"How did dinner with your father go?"

Jim Ellison automatically tensed up at the mention of his father, eyed narrowed and posture stiffening, but it lasted only a fraction of a minute. Simon was surprised by the immediate way the detective settled back, a lopsided grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. Maybe not quite as relaxed as before, but close.

"It went fine, if you don't count the concussion and lacerations Blair gave himself during the meal. Or the lecture my father gave him about being responsible and taking better care of himself. Or the week's worth of pleading puppy dog looks Blair's been giving me as a result the closer this evening's dinner with Dad is getting."

Simon put his cup down with a soft thud and blinked through his lenses at Jim, mouth slightly open and gaping. His voice held a tone of indignation and just a tinge of hurt.

"You're kidding. Blair has a concussion? Why didn't you say something about this last week? What was he doing here the last few days if he's injured?"

Jim raised a hand in defense to slow the escalating dressing down Simon was warming up to.

"Come on, I was joking, Simon. He just bumped his head on the table, barely bruised it. The cuts were all small and mostly shallow, just painful really. He's fine. You didn't even notice the bandage on his hand when he was in here."

Shaking his head, Simon snorted softly in exasperation at the other man's sense of humor.

Jim noted how quickly the older man slipped into "Uncle Simon" mode these days. Ever since the Keyes' episode of last month, Simon hovered over Blair almost as much as his Blessed Protector did. Jim sobered a little at the reminder. Both Darryl and Blair's personal freedom had been unconsciously restricted by their respective father figures in the aftermath of their abduction and assault. It would be a while before either man relented their hyper vigilance.

"Blair's biggest injury was to his pride. He was so nervous around my dad he nearly did himself in. Not to mention we ended up discussing his immunization status. At least Dad didn't harp on it when he found out. Blair was already embarrassed enough."

"So he's coming back to dinner again tonight?"

"Yeah. We made tentative plans for Wednesday nights, as long as everyone's schedule works out. We'll miss more than a few I'm sure, but tonight is on."

"That why you're getting the forlorn looks from the kid? Dinner with William Ellison not high on his list of entertaining evenings? I thought he was all gung-ho about you two getting together?"

Jim leaned forward in his chair and clasped his hands together in front of him, resting his elbows on his knees. A large grin split his face and he was hard pressed to keep from laughing out loud.

"Oh, he is, so long as it's just me and my dad. He's a nervous wreck around my father. Doesn't know what to say or how to say it. And yes, the wounded puppy eyes are on full throttle. I almost caved this morning and called off dinner when he came to the table for breakfast in that one-piece pajama thing. He started with the eyes and a soft little story of how tired he was and wouldn't it be a good thing if he came home from school tonight and went right to bed for a change. I almost inhaled my orange juice to keep from laughing. The back of my throat still burns."

Simon grinned back, his mind replaying the last time he saw the young grad student dressed in the infamous blue union suit. Blair was sleepy and confused, covered in chicken pox and slightly disoriented with fever, stuffed 'Jimbear' clutched under one thin arm. Add the puppy dog look and the kid was hugely endearing and damn hard to resist. And Blair knew it.

"Can't blame the boy for trying, not too much anyway. Those eyes of his are a powerful weapon. I'm glad Darryl hasn't learned just how powerful that Bambi stare can be. I'd never be able to say 'no' again."

"Tell me about it. Add the pout and only my covert ops training saves me, sir."

Both men grinned like the totally ensnared fathers they were and shared a knowing chuckle. They knew they weren't kidding anyone, they were completely devoted dads.

"Think you'll find him fast asleep when you get home?"

"Nah. I told him that that was a great idea. He should come home, go to bed and get some rest. That way he would be more comfortable and relaxed when my dad showed up at 6. He actually thought I was going to fall for it there for a minute. You should have seen his face when he realized I wasn't going for it. The pleading stare is almost harder to resist than the sleepy, innocent look."

"You're a hard man, Ellison. Fathers around the world are proud of you." Simon mocked in a serious tone.

Jim straightened in his chair. "Thank you, sir. I didn't make 'Cop of the Year' on my looks. I have a reputation to worry about." Jim tone and expression matched Simon's but the sparkle in his eye gave away the game. The two men held the tough guy pose for a full five seconds before bursting into laughter, Simon's distinctive, deep, base "hee-hee-hee" carried out to the bullpen causing a few nearby faces to smile at the infectious sound.

Jim rose from the chair and wiped a drop of moisture from the corner of his eye. These moments reaffirmed his and Simon's friendship and reminded the usually solitary man that he was not floundering alone in this new experience of fatherhood.

"I'd better head out. I need to stop by the store on my way home and pick up a few last minute things for dinner. I'll give you a full report in the morning, barring any emergency room visits that out last the evening, of course."

"Good luck. Sounds like you'll need it. And say hello to your father for me."

Jim paused at the open office doorway. "Have a nice night, Simon." With a brief wave, Jim wove his way through the maze of desks, snagged his coat off the rack behind his chair and strode out of the bullpen.

*************

Jim turned his truck into the little alley that ran next to the market near the loft. While cluttered and too smelly for a sentinel nose, it was the quickest way to get the truck traveling in the right direction to park in one of the coveted spots right outside of the loft entry.

The slight sway of the vehicle as it turned into the alley caused the two grocery bags next to the detective to slide, one threatening to spill its contents onto the floor. Jim made a lunge for it and returned the bag to it former resting-place.

Looking up from his sudden dive, Jim slammed on the brakes. Lying across the litter strewn alley was a sizable chuck of 2x4, multiple sharp nails poking up at various angles along its length, visible at this distance even with non-sentinel sight. The wood was pinned down to the pavement by a loaded, overturned garbage bin. If it hadn't been for the bag mishap, Jim would have seen the debris before even turning into the alley.

Grumbling to himself at the inconvenience and delay, he threw the truck into park and climbed out. Momentarily overwhelmed by the stench of the decaying garbage in the dumpsters lined up down the shortcut, Jim squinted his eyes closed at the sudden formation of tears from the assault on his sinuses and rapidly dialed back his senses. Just as the world came back into focus for him the soft click of a gun being loaded kicked his sense of self-preservation into gear.

Flinging himself to the ground, Jim rolled through the garbage and came up behind the nearest dumpster. Flattening against the grimy metal of the dumpster, he drew his weapon and searched the building tops, sentinel sight at razor sharpness. Not having pinpointed the source in the beginning of the assault put him at a disadvantage. The gunman could be anywhere by now or nowhere. Cell phone lying uselessly on the seat of the truck, Jim was resigned to waiting it out.

A muffled step echoed off the surrounding walls drawing Jim's attention. He swung out from his protected hunch and lined up his gun with the source of the noise. As a darkly dressed man stepped out from a recessed doorway in front of him, Jim barked out a warning.

"Freeze, Cascade police. Put down your weapon, step away from the wall and raise your hands."

The man obeyed wordlessly, watching through heavy lidded eyes as the armed detective slowly advance on him. Dow admired the handsome detective's stealth and graceful, cat-like movements, taking in the intelligence reflected in the calm, ice blue eyes. This was not shaping up to be one of his favorite assignments as regret over the coming events already began to seep into Dow's bones.

Just before Jim reached the obstacle of the 2x4, he turned up his senses to evaluate his assailant, and caught the scent of a substance that sent his entire being on full alert even before his mind identified the odor of plastic explosives.

Jim's eyes darted to the source of the smell, the over turned garbage can holding down the wood, then back to the oddly calm and cooperative man still standing close to the recessed doorway which Jim now recognized as a protected alcove in anticipation of an explosion. Jim's sight zeroed in on the up raised hands and the vision of a remote detonator locked into place in the man's gloved right hand.

Dow suddenly realized the Cascade detective had somehow seen the trap, maybe sensed the trap, as Jim turned to run for cover.

Ellison wasn't close enough to the concealed percussion bomb to guarantee the force of the small explosion would take him down. Damn, the man was good. Dow hit the remote to activate the explosive and threw himself into the protection offered by the archway, watching as Ellison's body was caught in the very tail end of the blast.

Pushing himself off the wall to skirt a small fire that had broken out in the littered newspapers, Dow raced down the alley to the fallen body just as Jim struggled to get up. A quick blow to the back of Ellison's head flattened him back to the pavement, blood trickling from a number of shallow wounds. Dow grabbed the large detective and pulled him into the closest doorway and through the unlocked opening, mindful of approaching citizens curious as to the sound of the small explosion.

Locking the door behind him, Dow cursed under his breath at the skill of his opponent and Jim's unforeseen ability to almost outwit his seasoned captor. The detective had been lightening fast and trusted his own highly trained self-preservation skills. Dow had almost lost his chance to do the job. That hadn't happened in 15 years. Chalk up one for Detective Ellison.

Dragging the unconscious man across the deserted warehouse floor to his waiting car, Dow grunted with the effort. Couldn't be a normal guy, no this mark had to be a tall, athletic, smart son of a bitch.

Dropping Jim's arms to the ground, Dow opened the trunk of his car to the sound of sirens in the distance.

Fire truck. The newspapers must have caught hold of something else. Damn it, I'll probably burn the whole neighborhood down.

Pulling Jim's body into a fireman's carry, Dow deposited it slowly into the trunk of his car. After a quick look at the man's pupils to check for a serious head injury, Dow nodded in approval at the lack of symptoms and quickly produced wire ties for Jim's wrists and ankles. Throwing a blanket over the crumpled form, Dow slammed down the trunk lid and moved rapidly into the front seat.

Easing the car out a small car doorway on the opposite side of the street from the alleyway, Dow pulled over momentarily to allow a fire truck access to the lane. Watching unhappily from the review mirror, crime family henchman Jason Dow retreated from the scene of his latest crime.

****************

Placing the last piece of silverware on the table, Blair glanced at the phone and willed it to ring. His eyes darted to the kitchen clock and an involuntary sigh escaped.

Blair moved out through the balcony doors and peered down into the quiet street. At 6:45 PM the neighborhood was already tucking in for the night, traffic thinning and parking spots becoming scarce. Earlier, the evening solitude had been broken by nearby fire alarms and sirens, but now a light rain had blown in off the coast and a thick calm had come with it, blanketing the loft in a heavy veil of cold, moisture filled air.

Blair shivered, retraced his steps back into the loft and picked up the phone. With another deep sigh, he replaced it in the cradle and wandered back into the kitchen to check on the casserole in the oven. After shutting the oven door, he gave into his restlessness and anticipation and grabbed the phone. Running a hand through his long hair, Blair shifted his weight from foot to foot as he dialed.

"Banks." The police captain's exasperated deep base soothed the young man's jingling nerves almost as much as Jim's voice would have.

"Simon?"

"Blair, what other 'Banks' answers this phone?"

Blair bounced in place and pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment to smirk at it before replying. "Okay, okay. Give me a little slack here, Simon. Jim isn't home yet and his dad is due any minute and he should have been home like an hour ago plus and he really needs to here, man."

Simon rolled his eyes at the non-stop dialogue and barked into his handset. "Take a breath, kid. And slow down."

"I don't need to take a breath. I am breathing." An audible intake of air told Simon his instructions were being followed even if it was unconsciously. "Do you know where Jim is?"

"Do I look like a babysitter to you, young man?"

"Well, no, not really, but its not like you haven't done the job before, man."

"Not where Ellison is concerned. I draw the line right after five foot nothing grad students, six foot two detectives are on their own."

Blair paced over to the glass doors again and checked the street for signs of either Ellisons' vehicles. He hissed a sharp breath at the sight of William Ellison's town car easing into a spot across the street.

"Please, Simon. You got to help me out here, man. Jim's dad just pulled up and I don't know where the big guy is. Did he say anything to you before he left work?"

Simon scowled at the receiver and clenched his cigar between his teeth. "I don't remember. Something about some last minute things for dinner. Maybe he stopped at the store. He's a big boy, he'll be home in time. Just answer the door and offer his father a drink. Than sit down and don't touch anything. You'll be fine. "

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Simon. Oh, man, he's here. Gotta go. You were like no help here, Uncle Simon."

"My life is complete then, kid."

****************

Jason Dow drove down the pitted dirt road and guided his oversized luxury car into a large, secluded boathouse at the water's edge. Dow brought the vehicle even with a sleek cabin cruiser that had been christened the "Nora". The cruiser bobbed gently at its moorings as Dow cut the car engine and sat back against the seat in relief.

The drive to the coast had been short but tension-filled. Dow eyed every car on the road, uneasy with the assignment since the start. Abducting an ex-army ranger was bad enough but add his police detective status to the mix and he was deep in a high-risk operation. Not that his career as muscle for the Rosien family the last eight years had been without risks before, but this job made Dow's uncanny instinct for trouble go on high alert.

Michael Rosien owned most of Connecticut, all of Rhode Island and a hefty chunk of northern France. Add to that count several small islands in the Caribbean and a few off the coast of Washington. Dow tapped the steering wheel and reflected on his immediate world.

Pulling the unconscious man from the trunk and onto his shoulders, Dow slammed closed the lid. He deposited Jim on the dock, leapt onto the boat deck and dragged the cumbersome body closer. Heaving the tall man up, Dow slid him down the gangplank, through the hatchway and into the cabin.

Attaching more ties to both wrists and ankles, Jim was secured to metal brackets riveted to the floor. Dow slapped lightly at Ellison's cheek and checked his pupils, satisfying himself that the man was indeed still unresponsive before leaving to cast off.

Taking control of the helm, they slipped under the boathouse door as it automatically rose. Sighting a distant landmass through the gathering twilight, Dow edged the cruiser into deeper waters. Thirty minutes later the 'Nora' approached Sugar Island, a five mile wide outcropping of rock and shrubs. Dow maneuvered past a low hanging rock ledge and into a tiny cove. The island's only feature, an abandoned lighthouse, loomed in the foreground.

Dow docked the cruiser and returned to the still unconscious detective's side. Refusing to even consider the idea of carrying the man up the rough terrain to the lighthouse, Dow decided to sit across from his guest until Ellison regained consciousness. He settled his own 6ft 2-inch frame to the floor and shifted around until his 200 pounds of muscle was marginally comfortable on the hard surface. After checking that his gun was still snuggly holstered and his back up piece neatly concealed, he switched his concentration to his unwilling companion.

*******************

"Ah, Jim should be home any minute now, Mr. Ellison, really. Actually, he should've been home awhile ago. So I'm sure he'll come through the door any time. I am… Sure, that is… Sir."

Blair sat down on the edge of the sofa arm and then realized where he was perched and jumped back up to pace near the front door. William Ellison allowed a glint of amusement to be reflected in his face as he tracked the young man's jerky, uncertain movements about the room.

Ellison found the outwardly confident grad student's hesitant behavior around him both endearing and charming. That fact that Blair cared enough about the impression he was making on Jim's father to be unnerved was a striking demonstration of the love the boy had for Jim in William's mind. When even the towering, gruff, loud and demanding demeanor of Banks didn't faze the young man, Ellison found it amusing that his quiet approach did. Making the right impression on Jim's father obviously meant a lot to the hyperactive youth.

As Blair made a second sweep out of the kitchen, past the table to straighten silverware that didn't need straightened and back over to perch for 5 seconds on the arm of the sofa again, Ellison decided to take control of the situation before Blair passed out from stress. Reaching over to grab one of Blair's wrists before he could jump up off the couch again, Ellison turned the smaller hand over to inspect the recently injured palm.

"How are your hands doing? Are they giving you any trouble with your school work?"

Blair started at the unexpected touch but relaxed at the soft words of concern. Sliding off the arm and down onto the couch beside the elder man, he turned his hand over more fully and blushed a light pink at the man's interest.

"They're all right. They were a little stiff the first couple of days, but nothing like they were when they got all cut up when I was kidnapped by Burke. This was pretty tame." Blair's calm recital of a life-threatening incident William didn't even know about shocked the man.

"You were kidnapped? Again? Before Keyes did it?" Anger, confusion and frustration fought for a place on the wrinkled but still handsome face. Ellison watched fear and trepidation replace the grad student's relaxed acceptance of the incident and cursed himself for allowing his feelings to be so easily read by the youth.

Blair suddenly saw the facts as the older man must have seen them. Realizing how recent the reunion between father and son was, Blair remembered how much of Jim's and his life the elder Ellison knew nothing about. Blair gently pulled back his hand and slid off the couch, tucking his hands into both front pockets, unconsciously hiding the evidence.

"It was a lot earlier in the year. Jim and Simon took care of it. The men who took me were following government orders. They didn't hurt me, I did it to myself trying to escape."

"Escape!" Displeasure was as easy to read in Jim's father as it was in Jim. Blair now knew where Jim got his penetrating stare. He hastened to explain but felt himself sinking further under the unhappy man's assessment.

"Jim told me not to, but I thought I could do it. It all turned out okay, really. Daniel and Ethan, Jackson and Ray all turned out to be kind of friends, eventually."

"They did." His disbelief was clear.

"Yeah, ah yes, sir, they did. After they helped…ah, well, let's see….helped out in Mexico. When we were kind of …on vacation over my birthday. But that's a story for another time. In the future. Way in the future. Jim can tell you about that one. Yeah, let's save that one for Jim." Blair backpedaled as fast as he could. Explaining another kidnapping attempt wasn't a good idea without the support of his Blessed Protector in the room.

"All right, then I'll ask Jimmy about it sometime. Soon."

This evening was rapidly becoming one of Blair's least favorite, ever. A change of topic was needed. Blair fumbled through the ritual of entertaining, fervently wishing Jim would walk through the door to save him from any more blunders.

"Yeah, ah, yes sir. Would you like another drink, Mr. Ellison? More iced tea, maybe?"

Ellison eyed the nervous and now tense young man, never missing the way the youth's eyes darted to the front door or the phone at least every few minutes since his arrival. Maybe even before that. What was keeping Jimmy?

"Don't you think we should fix that problem?"

Blair stopped his squirming in place by the balcony doors and faced the man in confusion. "Problem, sir? What problem? You don't like iced tea? We have beer or bottled water. I could go get you something---."

Ellison raised a hand to ward off the breathless reply and chuckled softly under his breath. Getting off the couch, he walked over to Blair and lay a hand on his bouncing shoulder to make sure he had Blair's complete attention diverted away from the door and the phone.

"I mean the 'Mr. Ellison' bit. Considering yours and Jimmy's relationship, don't you think you and I could come up with a name we're both comfortable with for me besides that? Maybe something less formal?" William stared into the wide, confused eyes of his son's chosen child. The only child Jimmy was probably going to give him, his only tangible chance at being a grandfather.

"Oh. Okay." An audible swallow cut off further comments.

"Why don't we take some time and both think about the possibilities. I'm not fond of gramps and grandfather sounds so stuffy. I'm not interested in having any grandchild of mine call me by my first name either, no matter what you may be used to calling your mother and Jimmy."

"Okay. No first names. I can work with that." Blair's voice was a strained whisper of disbelief over the entire conversation. William almost laughed out loud at the growing size of the blue eyes before him.

"Good. Let's give it some thought."

"Yeah, thought. You know a number of ancient cultures have very special rituals and titles for their elders. Most often they were highly revered. Of course, that was mainly because people didn't live very long then and old people were strange and thought to be sacred. Not-not that you're old or strange or ….or anything like that." Blair's babbling tapered off to a low mumble in embarrassment. Then sudden inspiration struck him. "What did you call your grandfathers?"

Lost trying to follow the earlier ramblings, William was a little taken back by the question. He hadn't though about his grandfathers in a very long time, decades at least. His father's father had died during Ellison's toddler days, but his mother's father had lived long into his thirties, passing away just before his own children were born.

"Well, one died before I really got to know him. My mother's father lived here in Cascade until he died of a stroke shortly before Jimmy was born. He and I were very close when I was younger. He was stern and quiet on the outside, a little imposing to strangers, but a very giving man to his friends and family."

Blair nodded at the description. "Like Jim is."

William started at the statement but realized the truth of it. He slid his hand across Blair's shoulders and rested his arm on the slight frame, gradually leading the nervous young man back to the sofa to sit as he continued to talk.

"Yes, son, like Jimmy is."

"So what did you call him? Your grandfather, I mean."

William chuckled to himself as old memories flooded back to him. "We called him grandfather to be respectful out in public, but he liked "Poppa" when we were alone. Being respectful was important, but he was a very sensitive man. And physical too, always a hug when you needed it. I haven't thought about him in years." A wistful, distant look clouded the older man's eyes as flashes of younger days played through his mind.

"Poppa is kind of nice. Informal but… manly." Blair mumbled softly, trying not to disturb the comfortable moment. A knock on the apartment door startled both of the men out of their private thoughts. Blair sprung off the cushions and scrambled for the locks, flinging open the door without checking the visitor's identity. An unhappy Simon Banks loomed in the doorway.

"Don't you know to ask who's there before you unlock a door, boy?"

Blair flushed at the reprimand and glanced guiltily at Jim's father. His disappointment at the identity of the visitor was plain to see. "Sorry, Simon. I thought maybe Jim forgot his key or had his hands full with groceries. I just… thought it was him."

Simon scowled down at the embarrassed young man, preparing a stern lecture about personal safety then remembered why he was there. "I'm here about Jim." Glancing behind Blair as a figure came into view Simon nodded at the familiar face, faintly relieved to have a backup for the upcoming conversation. "Good evening, Mr. Ellison, William."

"Evening, Captain. Is there a problem?"

Banks gentled his tone and searched for the best way to handle the situation. "There's been an incident. Jim's truck was found in an alley off of Market Street, at the scene of a fire. There was evidence of plastic explosives used."

"Jimmy." William Ellison stepped closer to Blair and rubbed gently at the young man's vibrating arm.

"Oh, my God, Simon! What happened? Is Jim all right? Did he get burnt? He'll need me. Where did they take him? Oh, my God." Blair bounced forward and tried to slip past the human barrier blocking the doorway. A huge hand plucked him effortlessly back into the room and held him there.

"Blair, take a breath, SLOW down and listen. Jim wasn't there. The truck was abandoned. No sign of Jim anywhere, but the fire department is searching the surrounding buildings again just in case."

"Simon, tell me what's happening, man. Where's Jim?" Frustration and fear made the words louder than necessary. Blair's voice broke a little on Jim's name.

"We don't know yet, but there was blood found at the scene." Simon tightened his hold on the grad student as Blair squirmed against the restraint.

"Do you think Jimmy's been injured? If he was, why wouldn't he be close by?" Ellison's steely gaze demanded information and action. Simon darted a reluctant glance down at the agitated youth in his hands and blew out a resigned breath of frustration.

"Because we think he's been taken. It looks like a setup to incapacitate and abduct him. We don't know anything more at the moment."

Blair grabbed onto Simon's coat and tugged with both hands. "Please take me down there, Simon. Show me where it happened, man. I gotta see for myself, now." Fear forced its way into every word and filled Blair's eyes with unshed tears.

"I know, son. That's why I'm here." Releasing his firm grip around Blair's arm, Simon grimaced at the sound of Blair's footsteps pounding down the hall and then several flights of stairs to the lobby before either older man could even exit the loft. Simon pulled the door closed and locked it with his own key after ushering Jim's father out into the hall. Exchanging identical looks of concern and trepidation, both men trudged off after their frightened charge.

*********************

Jim slowly registered the sensation of a numbing cold in his arms, legs and face. Consciousness returned in jagged bits and pieces, giving the sentinel a distorted sense of detachment to his body. A painful ringing in his ears pushed to the front of his limited awareness and memories of the alley explosion flooded back, bringing with them the sure knowledge that he was not a free man.

Subtly flexing his fingers, Jim felt an increase in tension around his burning wrists. Another slight movement of his calves verified the presence of tight ankle restraints as well. Jim scanned his surroundings without altering his unconscious pose.

Muffled sounds reached him through what felt like cotton-stuffed earplugs, a result of the explosion so close to his dialed up hearing in the alleyway. Even so, the sentinel recognized the sound of lapping water and the creak of a boat.

Straining past the most obvious input, Jim allowed his sense of smell to start to identify the mix in the air --motor oil, salt water, gasoline, mahogany, varnish, algae, seaweed, seagulls and scrub brush, all singled out and cataloged.

His cold body demanded attention as Jim's skin registered the hardness of the desk's wood flooring. A flick of his fingertips brought the touch of cold metal to his hands. He felt the pull of the unyielding bracket with the sway of the craft's hull each time a wave gently buffeted the side.

Jim ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth trying to soothe the bitter dryness that came with the taste of old blood. He touched a split on the inner aspect of his lower lip and suppressed a small shudder at the sudden burn.

Deciding he had played opossum long enough, Jim turned up his sluggish hearing to pinpoint the steady rhythm of a heartbeat that had played at the edges of his hearing from the moment he had awakened. Knowing it wasn't Blair he had pushed it to the back of his awareness until he had a chance to survey his surrounding as much as possible before dealing with it.

Instinctively knowing he was being watched, Jim drew in a deep stabilizing breath and opened his eyes. Total darkness greeted his efforts. Jim calmly batted his eyelids and felt them drag against a rough cloth. Squinting, he felt the pull of tape along his cheeks and forehead.

Realizing his captor was probably aware that he had regained consciousness, Jim licked his chapped and abused lips, turning slightly to relieve the stress on his shoulders. He tracked his abductor's movements and sensed the man's body heat as he moved closer to him. His voice was raw from the earlier smoke and fumes but it still conveyed a sense of strength and calmness.

"So what happens now, we play 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey'? I've got the blindfold, so you must be the ass. Having my hands tied behind my back will make shoving a sharp instrument into you a little harder than usual, but I'm game."

Squatting next to the bound detective, Dow eyed the casual slump of the ex-ranger's shoulders and was privately impressed with the man's calm demeanor despite being injured and undoubtedly disoriented by recent events. Putting a note of snide amusement in his voice to cover the awe, Dow chuckled softly at the bravado.

"This isn't a game, Detective, but I'm glad to see you're so accepting of the situation. First, we leave this boat and walk a few hundred yards to shelter. Then we get comfortable and we wait. I'd rather not drag you by your feet the whole way but I will if you make me. Not only would it take too much effort on my part, but you won't be pleased with the ride. There's a lot of rough ground between here and where we're going, sharp rocks and thorn scrubs. A person would really take a beating being dragged through that."

"And that's supposed convince me to make this easy for you?" Jim clamped down on his rising anger, irritated by the man's teasing tone.

Dow nodded faintly at the unseeing man, more in acknowledgement of the familiar primal urge to fight back despite the impossibility of success than in answer to his question. Dow allowed a sharp, uncaring edge to harden his voice.

"No, you're supposed to make it easy on yourself. Walking or being dragged, you're still going. You pick one."

"Well, Ace, since I make it a rule to never help with my own kidnapping, I guess you get to drag." Jim coughed, talking bringing a slight tickle of old smoke up to burn at his raw throat and sinuses.

Dow blinked hard at the unexpected answer.

I thought for sure that he'd see there wasn't any percentage in fighting. Christ, the guy has been blown up, hog tied, blindfolded and battered, doesn't know where he is or who has him or why and he's still calling the shots! He's either a lunatic or the bravest jerk on the planet. I can see why Michael wants him the hell out of the way. What kid would need to look for another idol if they had him around?

"Okay, tough guy, the hard way then. Just remember, this isn't going to improve my mood any."

"I'm heartbroken for you."

Jim bit back a groan as Dow yanked his shoulders so that he was face down on the floor again. Using the full weight of his body, Dow knelt down at Jim's feet, his knees pinning the detective's legs to the floor. Seconds later, Jim felt the blood pound back into his lower legs and feet when the nylon ties were replaced with less confining ones and the restraining weight removed.

Easing his cramped calf muscles, Jim levered himself into a sitting position, narrowly missing the tabletop with his head. A quick, covert swipe of face against his shoulder as he sat up disillusioned him of any ideas of being able to slip the blindfold off. It was duct taped all the way around his head.

No longer tied to the floor, Jim pulled his feet close to his body and rested his forehead wearily on his knees. Dow scowled at the large, battered man and cursed under his breath at both his life and his employer. Turning to get a grip on the restrained ankles, Dow stopped in front of Jim and bent over. Sensing Dow's nearness, Jim coiled and lashed out hard with both feet. The impact landed solidly on Dow's chest, rocketing him across the small cabin to crash into the back wall. Jim smiled in triumph at the sound of his kidnapper's head cracking against the wall.

Coming up on his knees, Jim shifted his position to line it up with the sound of Dow's grunts and the feel of his body heat. As Dow bounced off the wall, Jim hurled himself forward, catching Dow in the stomach with his shoulder. His efforts were rewarded with a heavy thud and involuntary groan as Dow's heart rate and breathing rapidly slowed to what Jim considered a sign of unconsciousness.

Working as fast as he could, Jim squirmed over Dow's body, numb fingers searching for pockets. Dow had cut off the ties only moments ago and the distinctive sound of a pocket knife snapping closed had registered with the sentinel part of Jim's exhausted mind. Finding an outline in the man's clothing that had to be the knife, Jim partially tore the fabric patch off of the man's pants to gain access to it.

The smooth surface threatened to slip from his tingling fingertips. Working with great care, hunched over on his knees and struggling against his own body's injuries, Jim pried opened the knife and began sawing at the nearest wrist tie, disregarding the burn of his skin as knife blade met flesh in the desperate effort. Knowing the clock was ticking until Dow regained consciousness gave him no margin for safety. It was down and dirty or not at all.

Just as Jim felt the band begin to give, a shift in the air alerted him to a sudden movement from behind him. A muttered, "damn, the man is good", echoed in his aching head just before bright lights exploded behind his eyes and awareness fled.

Dow shook himself and took a moment to stare down at the man at his feet. Fresh blood seeped out of the new head wound and both wrists were slick and bright, one bleeding fairly heavily. Dow rolled his sore neck and splitting head to ease the ache of his newly acquired injuries, then forced himself to focus on the wounds. Tying a handkerchief from his pocket around Jim's heavily bleeding wrist, he replaced the severed tie, making it hold the dressing in place. Pushing off the wall that had been holding him up, Dow reached down and snagged Jim's ankles. Looping a cord through the ankle ties, Dow shouldered the remainder of the rope and slowly began to drag the fallen detective out of the cabin and off the boat. Trying hard not to drag the man on either his face or his bent arms, Dow began the rough journey up the rocky slope to the lighthouse.

******************

"I can't believe this, Simon. It has to have something to do with either a case he was actively working on or a recent one. Nobody else except a crook would go to all this trouble to take down a cop. And you know it. There has to be a clue somewhere in these files. We're just not looking hard enough."

Blair slammed shut another of Jim's old case files and tossed it to his left to land on a stack of disarrayed folders. Throwing himself against the back of the chair seated at the conference table the frustrated young man ran his hands through his already disheveled hair. Simon pulled his glasses off and wearily rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"Son, half this department has been going through Jim's files for 14 hours now. We've come up with nothing. It's time to take a break."

"Fine. I could use a fresh cup of coffee." Blair sat forward and grabbed a file off the top of a stack to his right. Throwing a determined look at the older man he flipped it open and began leafing through its contents.

Simon sighed at the obvious willful misinterpretation of his words. Standing up from behind his desk, he pulled his suit coat off its hanger and slipped into it. "I meant it's time to go home. Get your coat."

"I want to finish up with this stack first." Blair refused to even look up. He was sure that he could feel the big man's unhappy glare that was boring into the top of his head. Simon cleared his throat impatiently and put on his overcoat.

"Blair, there are at least fifteen more files there. You haven't eaten anything in at least 6 hours, that half a bite of apple you had at midnight doesn't count, and none of us here have slept in over 24 hours. We're going home, get your coat."

Blair popped his head up sharply. Frustration, anger and fear were all reflected in his open face. Unshed tears brimmed at the rims of his reddened eyes and his lower lip quivered as he nervous rubbed his right forefinger over the small callus on the top of his thumb.

"Okay! I'll grab something from the break room. I swear. A fresh cup of coffee and I'll be good for a couple more hours. Honest, Simon, I pull all nighters all the time and then put in a full day at the university and here. It's no problem, man." Blair had to work to keep his tone light and casual but couldn't manage to meet Simon's eyes.

"You used to do that, but you don't anymore, Pinocchio. Jim hasn't let you get away with that in ages. And I'm not going to either. Just because Jim isn't here, doesn't mean the rules change. Get your coat, son." Simon walked over to the office door and gestured wearily for Blair to stand and follow him.

Tossing his glasses on the tabletop hard enough to make them bounce, Blair's voice rose in volume and pitch, making his first critical error of the night. "I'm not done yet and I can't get my coat. I didn't wear one, so lay the hell off, Simon. I'm not going anywhere yet."

Suddenly a large shadow loomed over him close enough to force Blair to push back from the table. Tilting his neck at an uncomfortable angle Blair faced the simmering volcano before him. The sight of his extremely displeased and angry Uncle Simon increased the degree of his own distraught state. The low, quiet tone Simon used next made Blair audibly gulp and his breathing rate to increase measurably.

"You, little boy, have just made a serious error with that mouth of yours. I realize you're stressed but if you think you can get away with talking to me like that, you are gravely mistaken. Up. Now."

"Simon…U-uncle Simon…I didn't…I'm sorry."

"You'd better believe you will be."

Grabbing Blair by the upper arm, a seriously pissed off Simon literally dragged the horrified grad student out of his chair and through his office door. Passing Brown, Rafe, and night shift partners Washington and Dailey on their way out of the bullpen, Simon threw a deep scowl at the startled group of exhausted detectives.

"I thought I told you men to get out of here. My budget isn't paying any more overtime than it has too. Taggart and Hicks will be here any minute and I want this room cleared out of any night staff two minutes later. Brown and Rafe, I expect to see you two back at 2 and not before. I'll be back in a few hours as soon as I take care of a little problem." Simon unconsciously drew Blair closer to his body as he forced out his last sentence through clenched teeth. The young man threw a pleading look for a rescue to the group, but no one was crazy enough to acknowledge it.

All four men nodded their silent agreement and watched as Simon actually lifted Blair into the open elevator. A sharp yelp of surprise echoed in the hall as the elevator doors slid closed.

Brown traded grimaces with Rafe, both recognizing the expression of barely surpressed, explosive anger on the large man's face. They had seen it only once before, but they were aware that the end result had made it highly uncomfortable for one young grad student to sit for nearly a day. Washington and Dailey grabbed their coats and waved a weary goodbye as they left. Brown stepped closed to his partner and lowered his voice.

"Whoa, baby. I think Hairboy is in for a tough morning. Ouch!" Brown rubbed delicately at his own hindquarters.

Rafe nodded in sympathy. "I think it's a damn good thing Simon only let's himself yell at us, H."

Brown lifted his eyebrows at the suggestion and muttered thankfully under his breath. "You said it, babe. I do not want to go there."

**************

Simon followed his sulking companion into the loft and locked the door behind them. Tossing his suit coat onto the rack beside the door he snapped his fingers at the gnome like creature beside him. Blair hurriedly peeled Simon's heavy overcoat off and handed it to the waiting man.

"I can't believe you made me wear that. I looked like a dwarf in it." Blair's dangerously petulant tone had lost none of its edge during the silent ride home to the loft.

"I can't believe you went out without a coat in 40 degree weather." Simon had replaced his displeasure and anger over being rudely talked back to with determination and what amounted to a resigned will.

"I had other things on my mind." Blair dropped his gaze to the floor and kicked nervously at the side of one shoe.

"I know that. Blair, listen to me, son." Simon reached out and rested his hands on Blair's shoulders. He wasn't surprised to find them trembling. Gently turning the slight figure to face him, Simon nudged Blair's chin up with one finger until their eyes met. The love and caring in the deep brown face made Blair hitch a breath or two before he could answer without choking on the words.

"I'm sorry about before. In your office, I mean. I guess I'm just tired and worried and I'm not seeing anything that will help and…and the pages were running together and…nobody was coming up with any answers and … Jim …J-jim is still missing--." A large hand clamped gently over Blair's mouth effectively stopping the flow of tired babbling. Pulling Blair to his chest in a tight embrace, Simon ran a hand through Blair's hair, rubbing circles over his heaving back.

"I said listen to me. I know you're upset and unsettled with Jim gone but I need you to keep it together and help figure this thing out." Simon felt a small nod against his breastbone. The older man took a deep breath and prepared to plunge down a path he prayed he would never have to go down. Never releasing his firm hold, Simon pulled Blair toward the couch to sit.

"Let's sit down before we both drop. Blair, it occurred to me that maybe it isn't someone from Jim's caseload that's responsible for his disappearance." Eyes bright with confusion, Blair pulled away from the comforting embrace and squinted up at his self-appointed protector.

"What are you getting at? Who else could it be?"

Simon looked away for brief moment to gather his resolve. This would open a whole new can of worms for the shaky young man to worry about, but they both had to consider all the possibilities.

"We've gone over all of Jim's active cases and most of his old files for the last two years. Nothing is turning up. No recently released felons with a grudge, no angry family members, no pissed off snitches, he hasn't even embarrassed any political connections lately. His truck turned up empty for clues and Joel's report on the explosive is a dead-end. Nothing distinctive about it except it was a controlled explosion probably meant to incapacitate its victim with the force of the explosion, not to kill him. Who ever did this managed to get a trained detective, an ex-ranger, into the alley, set off the explosion and take the body with them all in a short period of time. With no witnesses. It was a professional hit. Common crooks just don't come up with that. Most can't afford to pay what that kind of work costs."

Blair sighed and rolled his head against the back of the couch. "That still doesn't tell me who you think did this. Come on, man, spill. I'm too tired to figure this out on my own right now. Do you have some idea where Jim is?"

Simon gave Blair a hard stare and spoke very quietly. "I think I know who has him, but not where."

Blair jerked up off the sofa and looked at Simon in disbelief. Hysteria edged into the youth's tone and Simon reached out to pull him back down to the sofa. Blair flinched and pulled away before the other man managed to grab hold.

"You know who has Jim? All this time, you knew who kidnapped him and you didn't say anything? Fourteen fricking hours of searching through files and you knew?"

"Blair, stop it."

Simon stood up and made for another grab at the bouncing figure pacing in front of him. Snagging a hold of Blair's sleeve, Simon growled in the back of his throat as it was ripped savagely from his fingers.

"No, no way, Simon. I am not calming down until you come clean, man. What are you keeping from me?"

Simon watched Blair backup to brace against the post near the kitchen. Obviously exhausted, worry and stress compounded by no sleep and little food, it was easy to see that Blair was using the post to keep himself upright and stationary. The perfect display of a young man with his back against a wall-- alone, frightened and now possibly friendless, at a time when his worst nightmare was unfolding.

"I'm not keeping anything from you. I just never wanted the day to come that I would think this was a possibility. Ever since Jim told me about his senses and all this sentinel stuff, I've worried about his connections with the military."

Blair did a double take in amazement, eyes wide and guileless. "You think the military kidnapped Jim?"

"I think it’s a possibility we need to consider. I don't know it, I suspect it. Look, it was a clean, daring, professional hit that left no witnesses and no clues. If that litter hadn't started on fire in the alleyway, it could have been hours before we realized Jim was really missing."

Blair choked back a tight breath, a dull ache in his chest pushing up his throat to block his air intake. "I knew something was wrong." Simon smiled sadly at the conviction in the small voice.

"I know. You would be the only one who would have missed him right away. I wouldn't have expected him back at work for another 16 hours and his father doesn't usually come over often. He'd have been missing for over a day before anyone even questioned it."

"That still doesn't explain why? Why would the military take him? They discharged him. His senses were on line back then. If they wanted to check him out, they had him right there. Captive audience, man."

"If we can't come up with any thing more concrete than what we have already, it makes more sense than a local crook doing a professional abduction on a cop."

Heaving a deep sigh, Blair shook his head to clear it. "Maybe. I just don't know right now."

"Hungry?"

A tiny headshake answered him. Blair seemed to be dwindling as the seconds ticked by until the face that looked back at Simon, silently pleading for everything to be all right, was that of a small child.

Blair lowered his half-lidded gaze to the stare at the floorboards. Relaxing his rigid stance against the post, he allowed fatigue to creep over his limbs. His voice matched his appearance, hushed and weary.

"I keep wondering what's happening with Jim. Is he hurt? Is he in pain, hungry, cold? Is he…okay? I just keep thinking …things, you know?"

Simon slipped closer to the young man and slid an arm around Blair's shoulders in comfort. Simon released a little of his own pent up tension when his touch wasn't rebuffed for a third time.

"I know. I keep thinking a few things of my own. But Jim's strong, stronger than any other man I know is. He'll make it." He wrapped Blair in a breath-stealing hug for several moments.

Guiding the slight form to the downstairs bedroom, Simon wordlessly pulled back the bed covers as Blair shed shoes and layers of clothing. Dropping the blankets back into place as Blair slid under his arm and into bed, Simon grimaced when he found himself automatically tucking in the coverings and stroking curls off of the youth's face. A soft snort of disgust escaped the big man.

"I'll be on the couch. Yell if you need anything. Good night, son." Simon patted the soft mass beneath his palm before straightening up and moving out of the room. He barely caught the whispered, " 'night, Uncle Simon."

As he closed the door, Simon stopped to watch a hand reach up by the pillow to fumble around for a moment until it came into contact with a furred leg. The stuffed bear slid off of the side pillow and disappeared from sight under the mountain of colorful quilts along with the hand. Twenty minutes later, despite the gravity of the situation, Simon's smile still lingered as he lay down to doze on the living room sofa.

****************

Blair wandered groggily out of his room into the kitchen. Snagging a bottle of fruit juice out of the fridge, he rested his head heavily against the cool surface of the door. Dressed in only his boxers, socks and T-shirt, he shivered against the chill of the loft but was too tired to make the effort to find his robe.

"Go put on your robe before you freeze."

Blair jumped as the unexpected booming voice startled him out of his fog. He scrambled to keep his juice from slipping out of his hand.

"Simon! Jeez, man, give me a heart attack. Have you heard anything about Jim?" Both hands clutched at the slim bottle. Blair turned to rest his back against the refrigerator, pinpointing the source of the deep voice from the other room.

"I talked to Joel about an hour ago. He hasn't come across any new information yet." Simon's tone reflected the disappointment Blair felt at the news.

"Oh."

"And Jim's father called to see how you are. He's coming down to the station to meet us for dinner and an update on the case. He's even put some feelers out in the business community to see if this has something to do with him. After his connection with Keyes, he's naturally worried."

"Yeah, that makes sense, I guess. But I don't think so. Doesn't feel right, this isn't his fault. Guess we know where Jim gets his guilt complex from." Blair voice was quiet, his posture slumped and dejected.

Banks pulled himself off of the couch where he had been drinking a cup of coffee and walked into the kitchen to get a closer look at his charge. Rumpled and sleepy-eyed, fatigue still obviously plagued the chronically undernourished young man. Reaching out, the older man pulled Blair into the hall and nudged him towards his room.

"Get some warm clothes on and I'll make you some breakfast. We need to get down to the station soon."

"What time is it?" Blair pulled pieces of clothing randomly off of furniture and out of drawers until he was satisfied with his wardrobe for the day.

"Only a little after twelve. You've only been asleep about 5 hours." Simon leaned against the bedroom doorway and watched the chaos Blair left behind.

"You could have gone in without me." Blair's tone was tentative and questioning, really asking if he had prevented Simon from working on finding Jim. Simon heard the question loud and clear and took immediate measures to reassure Blair.

"Not gonna happen, kid. You aren't leaving my sight until we figure out what's happening here." Simon's tone turned dark and ominous. "Besides, we have a little business from yesterday to finish."

"We do?" Like what?" Memory rushed back and Blair swallowed past a sudden tightness in his throat. "You don't mean when I said…Come on, I said I was sorry, Simon."

"And that's makes it okay?" Simon shook his head and glared down at the smaller man. "I don't think so. Get dressed. We'll talk about it after you eat."

"I-I need a quick shower first." Blair glanced around the suddenly very small room and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Simon's glare never lost its wattage. "Then get moving, we have plenty of work waiting for us."

Blair slipped past the huge form in the doorway and hurried to the bathroom, clean clothes clutched in one hand.

Blair hurried through his shower and into his jeans and thermal Henley layered under an unusually large, plaid flannel shirt. Blair ran his hands down the soft fabric and allowed his defenses to drop long enough to think about Jim, the real owner of the shirt.

Blair wiped at a tear that ran down his cheek and squinted hard to stop the flow of more.

Blair shivered as a drop of water from his hair ran down his back, breaking his reverie. Grabbing the dryer, he spent a few minutes getting the worst of the moisture out of his hair in deference to having to come back in and do it when Simon saw him.

Five minutes later, Blair flew into the kitchen and sat down at the table to gulp the juice and coffee waiting there. Simon took the opportunity to slide a plate full of food in front of him. Gaping up at the older man, Blair fought the urge to whine.

"Simon! I can't eat all of this. We have to hit the road, man. I'll grab the toast and eat it on the way to the car." Blair snagged up the two pieces of toast and started to rise while still gulping juice. A strong hand landed on his shoulder and the weight dropped him back into the chair.

"Eat. Now. No excuses, no complaints, no discussion. We have something to take care of before we leave." The hard edge to the man's words made Blair blink up at Simon in confusion. Confusion turned to certainty at the sight of the big man's unhappy, determined face.

Blair blinked harder and cleared his throat, eyes searching Simon's face in an unsuccessful attempt to see something besides grim determination. Giving up, Blair started shoveling food into his mouth alternating eggs and ham with juice and coffee until his plate was empty and his stomach fuller than it had been in days. Every few bites his eyes darted to Simon's and then back down to his plate.

Simon leaned on the counter by the sink, sipping coffee and watching the young man plow through his meal. After the first few tentative bites, Blair began to enjoy the food. Blair pushed his plate away as Simon emptied his cup into the sink and rinsed it out.

"Ah, that was good, thanks, Simon. I guess we had better get going, huh? I'll get a coat." Blair rose from his chair and eyed the front door longingly but didn't try to get past the human barrier between him and freedom.

"Not yet."

Simon straightened up from the counter and sauntered over to Blair, gently taking him by the upper arm and heading wordlessly back into the bathroom.

"Simon? What… why do we need to ... I'm sorry about yesterday. I am.

I'll say it again if it helps. I'm sorry, man. We don't …I don't…" A loud gulp of distress escaped Blair's mouth as he scrambled for a way out of the coming punishment.

"Do you think it's right to talk back to me, to be rude and swear? In my place of work, in front of co-workers and friends?" Simon was calm but firm, his grip never leaving Blair's unresisting arm.

Blair studied the older man's face and shook his head in shame. Barely whispering, he lowered his gaze and answered while studying the bathroom rug.

"No, sir. It wasn't. You're right, Simon. I was just upset and wasn't thinking, but I know that's not an excuse for embarrassing you at the station."

"Damn straight it's not. And this is the same thing I would do with Darryl if he ever pulled a stunt like that with me. Open your mouth." Simon picked up the hand soap from the dish and waited.

Blair rolled his eyes and grimaced but complied with the order. As the soap touched his teeth, Blair clamped down on it delicately and made a face at the oily texture that moved over his lips. Drawing his tongue away from the tiny sliver of soap that actually rested in his mouth, he concentrated on allowing as little spit as possible to enter his mouth.

Simon tapped him on the side of his head to get his attention. "Five minutes. I'll tell you when. Then rinse your mouth and find your coat."

Blair docilely nodded and mentally counted off the time, blinking back tears that threatened to escape at the humiliation of the moment. Simon sighed and brushed one lone drop off a pale cheek, running the same hand over the still damp curls in exasperation before removing the soap.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, not sorry I did it, understand?" Blair nodded vigorously as he repeatedly rinsed out his mouth.

His muffled voice floated up from the depths of the sink in between spitting.

"It's okay. It really wasn't bad, not like when Jim does it." Blair dried off his face and hurried past the scowling form of his captain. Blair ran into his room and came out already halfway into his stadium jacket.

"What do you mean 'like when Jim does it?'" Simon followed the rocketing missile down the hall and into the living room, stopping only when Blair paused at the front door. Blair turned wide, innocent eyes on the indignant man.

"Oh, it's just that Jim uses the liquid soap with the pump. Really coats your tongue and makes mountains of bubbles when you try to rinse them away. Taste lasts for hours, too." It was Simon's turn to gap in disbelief. Blair grinned impishly at the man and opened the door, posed to dart down the hallway at a run if necessary. "This was a piece of cake, you old softy."

Simon stared for several seconds then broke out in a grin. Using one huge hand to ruffle the curls on Blair's head, he used the other one to swat an unsuspecting backside. Simon took great pleasure in the surprised yelp of discomfort that followed.

"I'll show you soft. Come on, kid. We have a man to find."

***************

Jim sucked in a deep breath as consciousness slipped back into focus. Throbbing pains hammered at the back of his head and behind his eyes, leaving him nauseous and dizzy, even lying down. He tried to roll onto his side to relieve the deep ache in his left ribcage but nothing moved except his shoulder. Biting back a small groan of pain as fire shot up both arms, Jim tugged experimentally at the bonds holding his wrists and elbows to the surface frame of whatever he was lying on. His ankles were held tight, too, this time spread apart slightly.

Running his fingers over the rough fabric beneath them and judging by the slight sway his movements caused in the frame, he decided he was on a cot. Coldness seeped through the fabric telling Jim it was on a solid metal frame. Swallowing down the bile at the back of his throat, he gave his body a heave and was rewarded with only a slight increase in the sway of his bed.

Blinking hard at the total darkness that surrounded him, he was roughly reminded of his blindfold. The skin under and around the tape was beginning to burn and itch as small blisters formed in reaction to the adhesive. Losing his skin, as well as his hair, with the removal of the tape would be unavoidable.

With a major effort of willpower, Jim turned down the pain dials and concentrated on his hearing. Reassured he was alone, Jim relaxed back against the thin pillow and pulled in several slow, deep breaths to stem the churning of his stomach's contents. After a few moments, the sour taste at the sides of his jaw receded, taking the nausea with it.

Knowing his assailant had probably kept his word and dragged him through the rocks to this place, Jim took a tally of his injuries. He quickly came to the conclusion that, outside of the new pain in his left side, he was no worse off than he had been before leaving the boat. His abductor must have been unusually careful in his transfer.

Not one for letting an opportunity pass him by, Jim began to work on the restraints in earnest. A searing pain in his left wrist made him press his lips into a hard line against the burn, but he continued trying to slip his hands through the ties.

Working some kind of fabric wrapped around his left wrist off, Jim found it gave him a millimeter more slack in the restraint. He concentrated all of his escape effort on this one chance. Warmth trickled down his hand and he subconsciously registered the smell of his own blood. Ninety seconds later his hand wrenched free.

Still restrained at his elbows, Jim hunched up and over until his head was in contact with the freed hand. Peeling harshly at the duct tape, Jim turned down his pain dial to zero as layers of blistered skin tore away. Gasping, eyes clenched against the sudden brightness of the room and agony of the lost flesh, Jim yanked the remains of the tape out of his hair and off of his head, letting the twisted, bloody mass fall to the cot.

Ignoring his bleeding face, resigned to being without his sight, Jim began trying to work his left arm out of the tie above his elbow. Unable to gain any headway quickly, Jim resorted to brute force. Yanking hard on his arm, he attempted to snap the tie against the metal.

A huge wave of dizziness swept over him, forcing him to drop back to the cot to settle his equilibrium. The faint sound of an approaching heartbeat alerted his subconscious mind to the return of his kidnapper, but the act of vomiting pushed all other concerns from his thoughts.

Dow trudged up to the lighthouse's main living quarters loaded down with the last trip for groceries and supplies from the boat. If everything went according to his employer's plans, he would be marooned on the island with his guest for at least two weeks or however long it took for Rosien to work his way close to the kid. That required plenty of food and lots of books.

Dow flashed on the memory of dozens of photographs of the kid he had seen over the last eight years. Long curly hair, big innocent blue eyes, infectious smile and wild clothes on a small wiry frame. And smart, Rosien told him the kid had his masters and was working on his Ph.D. at 23. So smart, Dow wondered how the kid had never figured out the redheaded broad wasn't his mother. What kind of mother runs around the world all her life and leaves her kid behind anyway? The videotapes were really the most informative. Dow thought the kid must be part kangaroo, bouncing all the time. Year after year, the boy bounced and smiled at the camera. Even the tapes that were taken covertly showed the boy's zest for living.

Dow snorted a chuckle at his own pointless humor and pushed his way into the house. The sight of Jim, covered in blood from his hairline to his chin, retching violently over the side of the cot froze him in place for a split second before rational thought kicked in.

Dow dropped everything on the floor and raced to the choking man's side. Skirting a pool of vomit, Dow instantly cut away the tie holding down Jim's left elbow. Dow pulled the unresisting man further over the edge to help clear Jim's airway.

"Slow down there, just take some deep breaths. You'll be all right. Cough that shit out of your lungs. Take some nice deep breaths. Christ, you ripped half of your face off with that tape."

Appalled at the torn and swollen state of Jim's face, Dow looked frantically around the room to find something to use to wipe away the blood and drool. Rejecting the rough blanket and frustrated at finding nothing appropriate within reach, he shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his own flannel shirt.

"Lay back. You're not going anywhere. I can't believe you. Do you have to be a fucking hero all the time?" Dow dabbed at the lower half of Jim's face first, wiping away the last traces of vomit. Jim ignored the sarcastic question and swallowed hard, gasping for air. Still dizzy and weak, he allowed Dow to lower him to the bed.

Forcing his eyelids to try to open, Jim was met with a wall of darkness tinged with red. Eyes swollen closed, only droplets of blood danced in his vision.

Working his way up the battered jaw, past abrasions and cuts caused by the earlier explosion, Dow cleaned up a portion of red, blistered, weeping skin on both of Jim's cheeks. Further up where the tape had been, bits of shredded flesh pulled off with each press of the shirt. Dow stopped and sat back, perched on the side of the cot.

Running a critical gaze across Jim's rumpled and battered body, Dow finally noticed the loose, bloody hand and automatically reached over to bind it back to the frame. Dow shook his head in disbelief as Jim raised a bloody fist and attempted an amazingly accurate blind swing at him. Dow easily avoided the unexpected blow by capturing the wrist in his hand.

"Give it up, Hero! You've got a concussion, for God's sake! Give it a rest already." At a sudden hitch in Jim's breathing, Dow pulled him up and over as the emptying of stomach contents began again.

Thirty minutes later, Dow put away the remnants of his first aid kit and sat down to take a look at his handiwork. Several layers of gauze encircled the detective's head where the duct tape used to be, covering all of the man's face and hair from his cheekbones up. Jim's lower cheeks glistened with a coating of antibiotic ointment covering the few intact blisters. A fresh gauze bandage and steri-strips protected his left wrist wound from the new metal handcuffs.

Jim's color was pale and he was keeping his breathing shallow to calm the still present nausea. When the dry heaves had finally faded away, Dow had helped him rinse out his mouth and then had silently cleaned up Jim's shirt and blankets as well as the floor.

Sinking into the comfort of an overstuffed leather chair in the corner of the small room, Dow studied the stoic man across from him. The Cascade detective had suffered through the cleaning up and bandaging process without so much as a flinch. Not a moan or a whimper had escaped during the painful and nasty removal of blistered and torn tissue. The cleaning, stripping and dressing of the self-inflicted knife wound on his wrist were met with equal reserve.

Ellison had splinted his left side with his injured hand the entire time he vomited. Dow suspected Ellison had a rib injury, inflicted by Dow's handling on the difficult trip up to the lighthouse. After accidentally pulling the unconscious man's bound body into an outcropping of sharp rocks on the way up the rough terrain, Dow had fashioned a travois from a tarp off the boat to support him. It took a lot longer, but Dow had felt less guilty about having delivered a second blow to Ellison's head in less than 3 hours.

The guilt returned full force when he returned to the lighthouse to find the man vomiting, physical evidence of a significant head injury. The unexpected sight of the swollen and blood-drenched face had been a complete shock to the experienced, worldly agent. Dow couldn't believe the detective had enough nerve to rip the tape off knowing a good portion of his face was going to come off with it.

"Why'd you do that?"

Even Dow was surprised as his words cut through the tense atmosphere of the room. Jim remained silent for long enough that Dow thought he wasn't going to answer. Finally Jim licked at his dry, bitter tasting lips before croaking out a hoarse reply.

"Do what? Vomit on you? I was never one to hide my true feelings. You just bring out that special something in me."

Dow snorted at the weak locker room humor and smiled at Jim's brazen attitude. Sensing a conversational opening, Dow plunged in.

"That why you were willing to sacrifice the skin off your face to escape? Feelings? Tell me, Hero. Are you pissed off because the big, bad, ex-ranger, detective got kidnapped or upset over leaving your family alone and frightened? I'm just wondering here, macho jerk or worried family man?"

Despite the fact that he couldn't see, Jim cautiously turned his head to face the direction of the sound of Dow's voice and heartbeat. Dropping his voice to a lower, deadlier register, Jim allowed the force of his protector personality to come forth.

"If this about Blair, my brother or even my father, you should know you have just crossed a line you'll never get a chance to come back over. Not alive."

Dow's head gave a little jerk as a shiver ran down his back. He had been threatened numerous times before, by armed and murderous men, ones who could actually even see, but none had caused his breath to catch and his chest to tighten the way this battered and manacled man's voice did. The utter conviction in the tone was unsettling. Dow imagined that if Ellison stared long enough his icy gaze would penetrate the layers of gauze. Dow recklessly decided to call his bluff.

"Rather impressive talk for a man in your position."

"Positions have a way of changing when you least expect it. That's what life is all about, Ace. The joy of the unexpected."

Jim voice was deceptively calm and controlled. Talking with the enemy was an art Ellison had learned many years ago. Give away as little as possible and collect as much information as you could. You never knew when a trivial comment could be the missing clue you needed.

"Somehow I see you as the type of man who plans out every last detail in his life. No sir, no surprises for Captain James Joseph Ellison, army ranger and covert ops specialist, hero and loner. But of course, that's Detective Ellison now, Major Crime police officer, and 'Cop of the Year", hero and father. I guess positions do change. Just couldn't give up that hero bit though, huh?"

'Father', huh? Jim smiled inwardly in grim satisfaction. So this was about Blair. What the hell had the kid gotten involved in now? Jim centered part of his attention on the sound of Dow's thudding pulse and fought to hold the ebb and sway of his nausea at bay.

"If anything happens to Blair while I'm gone, even if it's a touch of the flu, I'll bring you and your boss down. Believe it, Ace." Jim tracked the sudden rise in Dow's heart rate. Bingo! Got you on that one, asshole.

"What makes you think I'm not doing this on my own?"

"Too professional, too well organized, this place is too prepared for 'guests'. You're just hired muscle. I'd have to guess military trained, explosives and hand to hand. You're good. What's the matter, Ace? Couldn't cut it in the real world after your time was up?"

Dow stared at the sorry sight before him and wondered when the detective had stopped talking with him and had started interrogating him. Dow had missed it. The man was a cut above his usual opponent. Strangely, he felt the need to reassure the stubborn man.

"There's no reason to worry about the kid. Nothing's going to hurt him or you for that matter. There's no ransom demand for your father, no exchange of prisoners for your Captain to negotiate over, no looking the other way during a crime for your buddies at the station. You and I are just going to spend a couple of weeks here relaxing. Read a few books, play some cards, listen to some music. Time will fly, trust me."

"Then why do this? Why take me out of the picture for the sake of just that?" Jim wasn't really even asking Dow as much as he was thinking out loud.

"Don't sweat it. It's only for a short time. He's safe, you're safe--relatively. You'll just have to wait this one out, Hero. If the last half hour is any indication, you could use the rest."

Jim ignored the sarcasm, continuing to mull over the motivation behind his disappearance. "But why upset Blair and frighten him? Why do you need us separated? Who would do this to a kid, anybody's kid? What kind of man are you?"

Dow was beginning to regret having instigated this talk. It magnified all the reasons why Dow felt this whole assignment was wrong.

"The kind that does his job." Anger tinged Dow's terse words, but it was directed more at himself then at Jim.

"Professional henchman." Jim let his disapproval and disgust at the term color his words. "Tell me something, Ace, why choose this? Why run with the dirty pack?"

"Maybe it's all I had to choose from at the time." Dow stared hard at his hands and absently played with the gold band on his left hand.

"That's crap. You're Special Forces. I can see it in your style. You're okay at what you do, so why not law enforcement or security or a hundred other jobs where you can use your talents but have to don't kidnap people for a living?"

Exasperated at the man's self-pitying attitude, Jim spit the accusation out. A sudden shake of his head in denial of the facts made him still all movements and take several deep, calming breaths.

Petulantly, Dow pretended not to notice Jim's discomfort as his temper blossomed into a full-scale rant. "Listen, Ellison. Maybe everyone isn't cut from the same 'hero' mold that you are. Some of us take what bone life throws us and go with it, no questions asked. Not all of us had a family and a home to come back to anymore or a kid worshiping our every move. Be thankful your life is the way it is. Some of us have a lot less to go home to at night. You have friends that are there for you. Friends that will go so far as to go to a foreign country and help you track down your boy and get him back from drug runners. I can count the number of people I can depend on with one hand. One person, me."

Jim's quiet rebuttal did more to wash away Dow's anger than any screaming match or fist fight would have done.

"You ever think that maybe my friends are there because I deserve them to be? Do the right thing once in a while, Ace, and maybe you'd have a friend."

Anger sparked in Dow's dark eyes but died out before it reached his voice. Frustrated with the whole debate, his words came out cold and empty.

"Don't play the lily white knight for me, Hero. I know all about Marcus Keyes and his sudden, untimely death after being questioned about yours and your captain's sons' assaults. I know you understand how sweet revenge tastes. So knock off the holier than thou, sanctimonious attitude. It’s a no sale here. I've walked that path already."

Jim took a minute to try and read between the lines. Was Dow saying he too had taken a life in retribution for the pain and suffering inflicted on a loved one? Had his choices be taken away from him by some perverted psycho or street junkie?

"I'm not holy and I'm far from perfect. Done too many things in the army and since then for that, but I try to do the right thing when I can. When was the last time you could say that?"

Dow turned his head to get a better look at the fallen warrior tied to the bed and shook his head at the shear audacity of the man. A short humorless chuckle escaped Dow as he realized that even now, bound and injured, kidnapped and isolated, Ellison was trying to sway him from a life of crime. The hero still trying to 'do the right thing'. Anger turned to weary amazement.

"Get some sleep. I'll be waking you in two hours."

"Why? Can't live without my charming company?" Already knowing the answer, Jim couldn't resist pointing it out to the other man.

"Because you have a head injury, asshole."

"You mean because it's the right thing to do."

Dow bristled in aggravation. "I mean because I don't want to clean the floor up again. Next time I use your shirt."

Jim smiled blindly in the direction of his annoyed companion. "You used your own shirt?"

Exasperated, Dow roughly pulled the coarse blanket higher over Jim's chest then backed away from the cot to regain his seat in the soft chair. "Just shut up and go to sleep. Christ, the dossier described you as 'stoic' and 'distant'. They need to find better researchers."

***************

Blair slipped his glasses off of his face, dropping the file from his hands back onto the stack in front of him. He leaned forward onto the mess to rest his pounding head on his arms. Blair ignored the unhappy looks from the two older men who were deep in conversation at the other end of the room, instinctively knowing that both Simon and William Ellison were discussing him. He just didn't care at the moment.

Three days had passed and they were no closer to finding a clue to Jim's whereabouts then they had been the first day.

Simon, Joel, Brown, Rafe and Blair had all practically moved into the conference room adjacent to Simon's office. Together they had reviewed and scrutinized every case current and closed that Jim had been involved with for the last five years. Although they had come up with a disturbing number of possible suspects, all the candidates had passed a thorough investigation.

By the morning of the second day of Jim disappearance, Joel and his team had successfully retrieved all of the bits and pieces of the explosive device from the alleyway. After hours of painstaking work, forensics had placed an urgent call to Simon's office declaring a clue had been found.

A portion of a thumbprint on a small piece of metal housing inside the bomb had been recovered. Hope had run high as the find was run through the state, federal and international databases. Hours later, a one page report had returned with the simple phrase, 'No matches found'."

When the fax had come in Blair had locked himself in a bathroom stall until he could breathe without air catching in his throat and the tightness in his chest had faded from a crushing vise to a dull ache. Ignoring everyone's concerned glances, pretending his nose wasn't running and his eyes weren't red and swollen from having cried for 30 minutes, he had returned to his stack of files and began to search for a clue again.

Now, a day later, Blair rolled his head to one side and back again, subtly wiping a few rebellious drops of moisture from his bloodshot eyes. The long hours of reading and rereading the mountains of paperwork were taking their toll on the young man's sight and emotions.

Worn out from stress and uncertainty over Jim even being alive, Blair felt like tension and a growing sense of urgency were consuming him. Today alone, Blair had been curt and petulant with just about everyone he came in contact with. It didn't help his mood any that with his 'father' gone, two more strong willed men had stepped partially into the role.

Simon had been down right militant about Blair eating and getting a few hours of decent sleep every night. When the domineering captain wasn't able to oversee that he ate and rested, Jim's father did.

The elder Ellison had started arriving at the station around 5pm each evening. Ellison always brought a basket of food Sally had prepared or bags of carry out for all. He thought it was the least he could to help in the search for his son.

Unfortunately for Blair, William then stayed throughout the evening hours making phone calls and running errands and supported Simon's commands that the grad student leave at a decent hour for some sleep. Simon demanded Blair's obedience and William enforced it.

Not comfortable enough with Jim's father to try a rebellion just yet, and with Simon's firm and heavy swat to his unprotected backside just two mornings ago fresh in his mind, Blair had no other option but to obey.

He was chaffing at the bit after three nights of it.

Health concerns aside, he had to help find Jim and research was what he was good at. So what if he missed a few meals again or a few hours of sleep? His doctor would understand when he explained the reasons for another set of substandard lab values, why couldn't Simon, Joel and Jim's dad understand? What good were perfect blood tests if the biggest part of his family was gone? Nothing would be all right until the center of his universe was restored. And that meant finding Jim.

A tap on his shoulder broke his train of thought, making him jump in his seat. Turning startled, moist eyes up, Blair saw Jim's dad looking down at him with a soft expression in them Blair had never seen before.

"It's late, Blair. Let's go home and get some sleep."

"Not just yet, please. I want to go through these files again. I know I must have missed something in one of them." Blair called up his best forlorn and pitiful expression in an effort to head off the inevitable.

"Going through those files when you're exhausted isn't going to do Jimmy any good, son. It's past midnight. Let's get some sleep and give it a fresh start in the morning." Caring and concern were layered over a firm suggestion that Ellison clearly expected to be complied with.

Resigned but determined to spend a little more time looking for Jim, Blair tried again. "I'll be ready in a while. If you need to leave go ahead. I'm fine. I can catch a ride later."

"Blair." Simon rich bass growled from across the room.

Bristling at being double-teamed, Blair abruptly stood up, startling the other three men in the room as well as the man beside him. Taggart, Brown and Rafe all glanced up expectantly from their places around the table.

"I need some fresh coffee. Excuse me." Darting around the elder Ellison, Blair headed for the break room. Simon intercepted him before he made it halfway to the door. Blocking the way with his substantial bulk, Simon reached out to place a hand on Blair's shoulder when he came to a reluctant stop before him. The frustrated young man shook it off impatiently.

"Simon, it's been three days and we don't even have a clue where Jim is, who took him or even why. What if he's hurt or sick or…or worse? We haven't found out shit. Even the one real piece of evidence turned out to be useless. Two national and one international searches later absolutely nothing turns up on a guy who uses explosives to kidnap people? That thumbprint didn't even turn up a traffic ticket. That's impossible. We have to keep looking. Now. Jim…Jim needs me."

Gulping air and swallowing back tears, Blair looked pleadingly at the towering man. "I need him back. I'm scared, Simon."

Simon shifted back to sit on the table's edge, drawing Blair along with him. Simon pulled Blair to his chest and tried to soothe away the tremors he felt beneath his hands.

"I know, son, I know. We all need to find him." Rubbing circles over the slim back, Simon exchanged an unhappy glance with William. A slight nod from the other man made his decision marginally easier.

"Blair, listen to me. I don't think we're going to find Jim in those files. I'm not really sure how to find him to be honest."

"What?" Pulling back from the comforting embrace, Blair squinted up at Simon in confusion. Simon's hands remained on both of Blair's upper arms, posed to turn into a firm grip if the distraught young man tried to escape the room again.

"I think it's possible that an agency has Jim, the government or a branch of the military. You're right, something should have turned up on a person with enough explosives' experience to pull this off. That's why we, William, Joel and I, think it's a government organization. The records on this guy have been pulled. That's probably why we haven't heard anything worthwhile from the FBI since they officially took over the case yesterday. We're not going to find Jim in his caseload."

"So what are you saying, Simon? You're going to stop looking for Jim? You're giving up?" Blair backed up a step and tried to shrug Simon's constraining hands off. The big hands merely slid up to his shoulders and took a firmer hold.

"No, that's not what I'm saying." Simon pressed gently on the squirming shoulders then released them. Blair backed up a step and began to pace, hands drawing figures in the air as he talked.

"That's what it sounds like to me. Can't we ask some of these agencies about this guy from the fingerprint? Don't you guys know someone who will help us? Someone who cares about what's right?"

Blair's youth and naivete shone brightly at moments like this, always thinking there was someone out there that would make a bad situation right. He was definitely a product of Jim's influence. He didn't always remember that not everyone had a hero at his or her side.

"Yes, we do know a few people. We have asked and they can't help us. Jim's father heard from the last of the possible contacts just a few minutes ago. Frankly, Blair, we've exhausted every resource we can think of."

A note of weariness bordering on defeat edged Simon's declaration causing a sense of panic to creep into Blair's chest. "So now what do we do?"

Drawing in a deep breath, Simon pushed off of the table and stood. "We go home. We get some rest. We try to come up with a new plan in the morning. Maybe getting more than 3 hours of sleep at night will present us with a fresh perspective on the situation."

"You don't mean that, Simon. Come on, man. I'm not giving up on Jim."

"No one is giving up, son. We're just being realistic." William Ellison moved closer to Blair and extended his coat to him. Blair merely looked at it and tried to move back to his seat at the table.

"Well, you guys be realistic, I'm going to finish looking at these files again."

William's deceptively older appearance hid a surprising strong hand to go with his iron willed personality. Blair's wrist was captured in a firm embrace as he tried to pass.

Looking up at each member of his extended family gathered in the room, Blair took in the grim, tired expressions on each face and began to panic in earnest. Eyes moist and speech breaking, he tried to explain how important it was to him to remain and keep working.

"I can't go back to the loft without Jim. I don't want to. I don't know what's happening to him and I can't sleep without dreaming about it. I can't eat without wondering if he's starving, even putting on the warm coat he bought for me makes me wonder if he's warm enough, or hurt, or bleeding, or being tortured. Is he's locked in a cage or unconscious in a hospital or lying in a gutter? I just can't go home again without knowing something is being done to find him, I can't. If the people who are supposed to help are the ones who are doing this to begin with, then it's up to us, me, to find a way around them. Maybe an idea will come to me if I just keep looking. I'm staying here."

Blair tugged experimentally at his captive arm but found his 'grandfather's' hold unyielding. Ellison captured Blair's face with his free hand and stilled the constant bounced for a moment. Every ounce of his boardroom authority shone down from his gray eyes along with love and concern.

"No, Blair, you're not. You've had less than half of the amount of sleep you need and next to none of the proper food. Jimmy wouldn't let this happen, no matter what the circumstances. When he does get home, he will be less than pleased at how you've been neglecting yourself. And none to happy with us for letting you do it. Come on, son, it's almost one and there isn't anyone we can call at this hour anyway. We'll look at it again after some decent rest. No one is giving up. But it is time to go home."

Turning Jim's father's words over in his mind Blair realized they were the truth but tried to formulate an intelligent rebuttal anyway. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come up with one strong enough to convince himself, let alone the seasoned, experienced men in the room.

Tears that had been held at bay for the last several hours finally won the battle and streamed down Blair's pale, exhausted face. Blinking hard to clear his sight, he nodded his head in defeated acceptance and slipped out of the loosening grip.

"Okay. I'll go home, but promise me we'll start searching for something new in the morning." Every man in the room felt the desperation and distress reflected in the pleading gaze. All were similarly affected by it, too. Each of them nodded eagerly and murmured promises of renewed insight after the luxury of a good night's sleep.

William patted the side of Blair's face, wiping away a few teardrops with the gesture. He held out the coat again and helped Blair slip into it, patting a shoulder in silent approval as the fabric settled over it.

Glancing at the captain, Ellison nodded towards the elevators and steered his charge toward the door. Simon, Joel, Brown and Rafe wordlessly bracketed the pair through the bullpen and the hallway. The family of Jim Ellison, by blood and by choice, instinctively formed a defensive shield to protect and comfort, all keenly aware of the absence of one of their own.

*******************

Blair turned over on his back and stared at the red lights of his alarm clock. The glow of the LEDs leapt out at him, mocking him with their refusal to change. As he stared, the numbers reluctantly shifted and one more minute of what seemed like an endless night passed.

Upon arrival at the loft, Blair had showered and turned in, keeping his usual talkative nature under control, hoping to sidestep any conversation with either of the two older men whom had accompanied him home. Hurrying through his night time routine, he bestowed a brief but heartfelt hug to each startled man along with a sleepy 'goodnight' and quickly retreated to his room. He had plans to make.

Both Simon and William Ellison had allowed him his privacy and seemed relieved that he wasn't going to start debating the ongoing fruitless search for Jim again. Simon had left soon after the hug and Jim's father had settled into the room at the top of the stairs.

Within 20 minutes, Blair heard the occasional light snore from his temporary loft mate. Feeling sure that the weary older man would sleep soundly, Blair eyed the uncooperative clock one more time and rolled out of bed.

Slipping into jeans and the nearest shirt, Blair grabbed his shoes and slowly opened his bedroom door. Tiptoeing into the living room in his socks, backpack in hand, he glanced apprehensively up the staircase. Grabbing his coat off the hook by the door, he eased open the loft locks and slipped out into the hallway. It wasn't until he made it to the lobby that he released the breath he had been holding when he bent down to slip into his shoes.

Blair paused hesitantly at the lobby door, a cold spike of fear washing through him at the thought of going out into the dark early morning alone. He hadn't really spent more than a few moments by himself since his abduction by Marcus Keyes and then never unaccompanied outside in the dark. Jim had been by his side morning and night, dropping him at classes, meeting for lunch, picking him up at the end of his day, going on doctor's visits and counseling sessions too.

After the first night home, when his nightmares robbed both of them of their sleep, an ancient looking lamp had appeared in his room. The soft glow of the 4 watt bulb bathed the room through the crème colored silk shade and made the tiny carved elephant that made up the base look like bleached ivory. Without discussion, it quickly became a constant light source in the small room, illuminating its shadowed edges 24 hours a day.

Jim had added a nighttime ritual of opening his door and checking on him just before the older man went up the stairs to bed, each and every night. Blair soon found out over the last 3 days just how much that simple act had soothed his nerves and chased away the monsters that still lingered in his dreams.

Steeling his jingling nerves and focusing all of his thoughts on Jim, Blair sucked in a deep breath and pushed open the door. Dashing out of the lobby door into the frosty night air, intent on making it to the safety and warmth of his vehicle, Blair paid little more than a passing glance at the startled man sipping coffee from a foam cup next to the apartment's entrance. Moving quickly, the man barely avoided being hit with the doors as Blair burst through them.

Walking rapidly to his car, Blair fumbled for his cell phone. Cursing the lateness of the hour, he dialed from memory and hoped his friend wouldn't mind the early wake up call. A voice more awake than anyone had a right to be at 3am greeted him after just two rings.

"It's your quarter, talk."

Relief flooded the tense young man at the sound of the familiar voice filled with confidence and intelligence.

"Hey, man, its Blair. I really need a favor. Can I come over or meet you somewhere? It's really important."

"It must be for you to call at this hour, Blair. Where are you?" Curiosity had captured the other man, interest clearly evident in his tone.

"Ah, I just left the loft. I'm headed your way, but I can meet anywhere you have in mind, man. Just give me an address. Ah, it's kind of sensitive."

"With you two I've come to expect that."

"Ain't that the truth, man." Blair's humorless chuckle sounded tinny and hollow over the phone.

"Our usual place will work. Are you all right?" Caution and concern for his young friend forced the man at the other end of the line to lower his pitch and search the shaky reply for signs of a problem.

"Great. I'm great. Ten minutes. And thanks."

He judged the too casual response false but accepted it, recognizing it as one of his young friend's coping mechanisms.

"We'll talk payment when you get here."

"Deal. Bye." If he could help, Blair was willing to pay whatever the man wanted.

"I'll be waiting."

Distracted by the phone call and faintly worried about the consequences if William Ellison woke to find him missing, Blair remained oblivious to the beige sedan and the coffee drinking man that followed him every step of the way.

*****************

"That's everything we know up to now, Jack. It doesn't appear to be a criminal from his past or a current case. Jim's dad is pretty sure it has nothing to do with him or his business. So that leaves Simon's idea. He thinks a government agency or branch of the military took Jim. If that's the case, I only know of two people who could help me, and you're one of them. I really need you on this one, man."

Jack Kelso was less affected by Blair's forlorn lost puppy dog look than the whole of Major Crime but not completely immune. Especially when he knew it was sincere.

"Let me see what I can do Blair, but it may not be much. An ID on your kidnapper may be possible if he is associated with the government, but after that, I can't be much use to you in retrieving Ellison, especially if the military has him. I fight with words and information these days."

The young grad student looked pale, rundown and completely lost. Kelso could still see the traces left behind from crying, nose a little runny, eyes reddened and slightly puffed, hair damp at the temples where tears had run down as he lay on his back.

"I know, Jack. That why I need you for the next part, too. I need to get in contact with some friends of mine, army rangers, covert ops. I just don't know how to get in touch with them. Can you find a way to get a message to them for me? They're good guys, I know they'll help Jim."

Kelso knew whom Blair was talking about, having researched the ops team when they kidnapped the boy months ago. He had no faith what so ever that Daniel Burke and his men would come running to help with a private issue even if they could.

"Blair, that's asking a lot from a group of trained elimination experts. You don't even know if they're in country."

"They know Jim's worth it. They'll help, Jack. They have too." The last was whispered with so much distress and pain, Kelso felt himself crumbling under the weight of it. The older man's disappearance was definitely affecting the youth.

Kelso understood how much Blair looked at Ellison as the father he never had. Blair worshiped the older man and Ellison returned the loving affection in kind. In a very short period of time, they had formed a deep family bond neither of them had experienced before in their lives and both dearly craved. He could see the terror in Blair's expression when he talked of Jim's possible fates.

"Okay. You head on home. I'll do what I can and contact you as soon as I hear something."

Kelso was clearly reluctant but Blair ignored the man's hesitation, bestowing a huge hug on the wheelchair bound ex-CIA agent turned author and teacher.

"Thanks, Jack. I owe you big for this one."

"Just promise me you won't get your hopes up too high. These men aren't known for their charitable deeds."

Blair grinned and bounced out of his seat, bounding to the door.

"They're great guys, they'd be just like Jim if they left the service. They know how to do what's right. You'll see. Night, Jack." The naïve conviction and trust reflected in Blair's voice made Kelso grimace.

Kelso watched from a window as his young friend raced to his car and pulled out of the nearly empty parking lot into the quiet lane. Ten seconds later, he watched as a nondescript beige sedan turned on it's lights and pulled away from the curb to follow in the direction Blair had taken home. Kelso swore to himself and jotted down details of the car while it was fresh in his mind.

"I hope they are great guys, Blair, I truly hope so, for your sake and Ellison's."

************

"Blair?"

A gentle shake to his right shoulder roused him from the edges of a much-needed slumber. Momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar voice, Blair pulled back from the touch and snapped instantly awake. Focusing his bleary eyes on the form beside his bed, he heaved a relieved sigh when he recognized Jim's father waiting patiently for a response.

"Ah, hi, good morning, afternoon, whatever it is."

A small smile graced William's face as he took in the sight of the disheveled curls and wide-eyed stare on the sheet creased, confused face of his 'grandson'. Unguarded moments like these were the times William had liked the best about both of his sons' early years. Times when his boys' sleepy faces still reflected their kind souls and generous hearts, before his own misguided intentions began to tear his family apart.

"It's afternoon. There's a man here for you, in a wheelchair. He says he's a friend of yours. Says he spoke with you early this morning and he has some news for you. He won't give the message to me. What does he mean he spoke to you this morning? When?"

"What? Oh, oh. It's Jack. He is a friend, a very important friend. Jack."

Blair vaulted out of the mound of covers and bounced past William tactfully ignoring the man's questions. Skidding to halt beside the sofa, Blair barely stopped himself before he collided with Kelso's chair. Blair shook Jack's hand and started talking.

"Jack. Hey, man I never expected to hear from you so soon. This is awesome. Did you find out anything about the guy? Was he in the database? Did you get a name? Is he working for an agency? Do you know where he is? Is ----"

A cautionary hand halted the copious flow of questions. "Stop. Blair give me a minute here to get a word in."

"Oh, sorry, man, I'm just a little anxious here."

William re-entered the room and subtly cleared his throat. It took Blair a second to set aside his concerns and remember his manners. Jim had made a point of telling him that respect was important when dealing with grandfathers.

"Oh, yeah. Um, ah, William Ellison, this is Jack Kelso, a friend from the university. Jack, this is my…Jim's dad." Blair stumbled over the words but William still felt a thrill of joy at the boy's unconscious attempt to introduce him as his grandfather.

Kelso wheeled his chair forward and met William halfway to shake hands.

"I'm honored to meet you, Mr. Ellison. Your son is a fine man. I'm sorry to hear he's missing. I know how much this must be affecting your family." Flicking an understanding glance at Blair, Kelso was rewarded with a small but warm smile from the elder Ellison.

"Thank you. We're doing everything we can to find Jimmy, but the authorities haven't had much luck. I don't know what Blair has told you or when, but it seems you might have some information on the whereabouts of my son for us?" William Ellison felt a spark of hope fan to life at the possibly.

"Yes, I do. I can't believe it, but I do." Shaking his head in awe, Jack turned his chair to shoot Blair an unhappy look. "I called in a few favors and did some research on your thumbprint guy. Your man has a service record, but as you know, it's sealed. I'm still working on getting that. It may take some time; it's buried very deep for some reason."

"I'm not surprised, we assumed something like that was the case. An explosives expert has to have training somewhere and the military is the most obvious place. You have some interesting contacts to have gotten that much." The older man, impressed with Kelso's influence, reevaluated his estimate of the handicapped man.

"Jack is the best at this cloak and dagger stuff, he used to do it for years. His contacts are amazing." A genuine smile of pride and delight in his friend's illicit and officially deniable past transformed Blair's drawn and worried face. A measure of energy had returned allowing his familiar bounce to surface.

Kelso pinned Blair with a curious stare. "Yes, well, your contacts are even more amazing my young friend."

Blair blinked back in surprise. "Why? What's happened? Did you get in touch with Burke?"

"Yes, I did. And I'm not ashamed to say I was just this side of thunderstruck by the response. Not only is he in the country and willing to talk to you, but he wants to met you tonight."

Blair beamed at the news. "Fantastic. I knew he wouldn't let me down. Now we're getting somewhere. If anybody can find Jim, Burke and his men can."

Kelso quickly interrupted to try and contain the innocent enthusiasm. "Hold on, Blair. Just because he's willing to talk doesn't mean he'll help. He has rules to play by. He and his men are army rangers not cops or even private citizens. He doesn't make decisions about what his team does. I don't even know why he's coming to talk with you. He really can't do anything to help officially."

Blair refused to be swayed by the harsh realities of life. "They're friends. They'll help. I know they will. They have before when it wasn't what they were supposed to do. They'll find Jim."

"Calm down, son. Let's take this one step at a time. Where and when do they want to met us?" William moved closer and placed a calming hand on Blair's back.

"Us?" Blair gaped at the suggestion that William Ellison would allow himself to be involved with a clandestine meeting of any kind.

"If you think I'm letting you run off to some covert meeting place with a group of men who kidnapped you once already, you are sadly mistaken young man. I'm sure Captain Banks will feel the same way." His firm tone left no room for argument. Blair's enthusiasm visibly deflated.

"You two don't have to go along, really. Daniel, Ethan, Ray and Jackson are friends. I'm cool with them, there isn't a problem here."

Kelso ignored the passionate defense of the covert ops team and focused on Ellison.

"There's something else you and Captain Banks should know. Blair is being followed."

"What? When did you find this out?" Outraged, William leaned his body against the back of the sofa in an effort to bring himself to eye level with Kelso. The move brought him closer to Blair and conveniently separated the youth from the ex-CIA operative.

"No way, man." Blair unconsciously mirrored William's posture, bringing him into a more protected stance beside the older man.

"I caught a car tailing him this morning when he left my place. The plates have turned up as stolen, and I didn't get a good look at the driver. You'll need to keep closer tabs on Blair. Don't let him go anywhere without an escort. I'm not sure what's happening here but it’s a lot more complex that we understand at this point. You had all better be very careful. Don't lower your guard for anyone, even supposed friends." The last was said with a knowing nod toward their younger companion.

"I'll alert Captain Banks immediately. I'm sure he'll be contacting you for all the pertinent information."

"I've already e-mailed him the details. I'm sure you'll be hearing from him soon. Just as I'm sure he'll want to attend the rendezvous tonight with Burke."

"What does Burke want?"

"He'll meet at 9:00pm at a warehouse down by the docks. He said Blair would know where. It seems they have a history with the place."

Turning an expectant eye to their young companion, both older men waited for a sign that Blair knew where Burke was talking about. A light blush colored the grad student's cheeks remembering the night he had been taken hostage by the covert ops team to force Jim's cooperation in a governmental sting. It was also the first time, but not the last time Ethan James has spanked him. Blair stammered in embarrassment at the memory.

"I-I know the place. It's on Caulder. 1283 Caulder Avenue. That's where Jim and I first ran into them. It was kind of a memorable night."

The older men exchanged looks, one curious and one concerned. Any further questioning was put on hold when a strong and insistent knock threatened to cave in the front door.

Blair popped up to open it but was immediately settled back down into his spot on the sofa as William stepped in front of him to check the view hole. A bellowed voice from the other side made the check unnecessary.

"Blair? William?"

William swung the door open and moved back quickly, stepping away from the tower bulk that shot through the doorway.

Simon Banks scanned the room and let his laser bright gaze fall on the smallest occupant of the room. Moving to loom over Blair's wide-eyed face, Simon's jaw muscles twitched with the effort to force words through his clenched teeth. Jim would have been proud of the grinding noise Simon managed to make. The big man crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep them from reaching out to shake the object of his displeasure.

"So little boy, how was traffic at 3am and did you get a look at the man following you?"

Blair slid off the back of the sofa and onto the cushions in an effort to widen the distance Simon would need to cover to make physical contact with him.

"I can explain, Simon. Really, I can. Jack?" Turning a pleading stared at his friend, Blair begged for some support in facing the irate man.

"You're on your own here, Blair. Remember, I'm the one who turned you in." Kelso couldn't resist a grin at the child-like expression of horror that crossed the young man's face.

*********************

Simon sighed and checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes. 9:43. Burke was 43 minutes late and the quartet of men awaiting his arrival were growing restless and edgy.

Sharing a resigned look with an equally exasperated William Ellison, Simon turned to study the third person in the room.

Blair paced between two small shipping crates. Occasionally he would jump up to sit on one or the other of them, swinging his legs and glancing expectantly around at the various openings to the building. This position lasted about 30 seconds each time he did it. Then he would be down and pacing, widening his circle until he bumped into whatever man was standing the closest to his private racetrack. This lap he collided with Simon.

"Oh, hey, Simon. Sorry, I didn't see you there." Blair attempted to maneuver around the obstacle but found that this time it kept moving into his path.

"Blair, I think maybe we should call it a night." Understanding eyes meet Blair's disbelieving gaze.

"No way. I am not leaving here without talking to these guys, Simon." Blair backed up and turned away, unwilling to have the disappointment he felt in the man show.

"Good, because we came a hell of a long way just to say hello."

A familiar mellow voice carried out from behind a large crate. Seconds later, Daniel Burke and Jackson Burr emerged from behind the protection of the casing. A side door opened and the space was instantly filled with the form of Ethan James, followed closely by his partner, Ray Weston. All four men automatically fanned out and blanketed the room, keeping the entrances within visual range and their backs covered.

Acquainted with the men, Simon moved forward to extend a hand in greeting but was preempted by a missile being launched from beside him. Blair raced by Simon and enthusiastically shook Burke's hand clapping the amused man on the shoulder and grinning like a child on Christmas morning. Blair instantly transferred his affections to Jackson and then Ray, exchanging pleased hellos and enduring more than one hand ruffled through his unruly locks in mock roughhousing.

Saving Ethan for last, Blair didn't even hesitate before throwing himself into the giant's open embrace. Arms wrapped tightly around the big man's neck, Blair feet swayed 3 feet off the ground. James delivered a gentle swat to the unsuspecting backside and gave a tight squeezing hug before lowering him to the floor.

"Nice of you gentlemen to join us." Simon's dry tone and sarcasm washed over the four men. He offered his hand to Burke and nodded at each of the three other Rangers.

"We'd have been on time but you're being watched. It took a few minutes to get past the tail without being seen. I take it you knew he was there."

Simon nodded. "At the moment, it seemed the best idea to let him think we weren't aware of him yet. I figured you'd notice him and get around him or leave."

"I knew you'd come. I told them you'd show up."

Blair grinned up at each of the newcomers before turning around to look at the startled and apprehensive stares from his 'family'. William looked confused and Simon grudgingly accepting. Blair stepped back so he could look at all of the men at the same time. All of his protectors together except one. The one these men would help return to him.

"And here we are. You're looking a little tired there, kid. How have you been?" Disturbed by Blair's color and the weary fashion that the boy carried himself, the concern in Burke's voice was clear and genuine.

"I'm good, just a bit worn out. It's been an active couple of months since I saw you guys last." Blair flinched as the short burst of memories flashed through his mind replaying recent events. The distressed expression didn't pass unnoticed by anyone, however brief it had been.

"We heard." Jackson's rich deep bass was almost as low as Simon's voice was. The gentle words were softly spoken, two words layered in understanding.

"Oh." Blair blushed and looked away briefly, still embarrassed by the thoughts of others knowing about his very private ordeal with Marcus Keyes.

"You should be at home, asleep, little bit." Weston slowly reached out and tapped at a pale cheek, distracting the young man from his personal demons.

"You're even lighter than you were 4 months ago, little one. Doesn't anyone feed you?" Ethan's voiced rumbled up from what had to be the basement, bringing a smile to Blair's face. He had missed the rumbling giant more than he had thought. Before he could form a proper rebuttal, he was interrupted.

"We all try but he's got my son's stubborn streak in him." William moved forward and shook hands with each man. "William Ellison, Jim's father. My grandson's manners have gone to visit with his appetite it seems."

Blair rolled his eyes at the gentle chiding, careful not to let William see him do it. The simple antics brought a smile to his audience. Burke covered his mouth to hide his grin and decided to pull the conversation back on track. Adopting a more professional persona, Burke turned to stand directly in front of Blair.

"Want to tell us why we're here, kid?"

"J-jim's missing."

Those two words summed up every reason there could ever be as far as Blair was concerned. Stumbling over Jim's name, Blair bit at his lower lip, emotions swelling to the surface, threatening to embarrass him in front of these hard-edged men.

Burke studied the young man and watched a shiver of fear vibrate through the slight body. He wondered if it was fear for his missing protector or fear that Burke would refuse to help.

"Your friend Kelso brought us up to speed about Ellison's disappearance. Has anything new happened since you talked to him?"

Blair glanced at Simon for confirmation, shaking his head in denial at the captain's resigned response. "No. We've hit a dead end with Jim's cases. The FBI isn't even talking to us anymore. The database search came up empty even though Kelso found out the explosives man we believe responsible for Jim abduction has a service record, we don't know his name. The files have been buried for some reason. That tells us the government is involved in some way. After that, we've hit a wall, gentlemen. It's been four days. Long enough to know the chances of finding Jim are getting slim." Simon words held a tone of defeat that hadn't been there before this.

Burke looked from man to man studying the resigned expressions on the police captains' face, the worried cautious look on Ellison's father and the expectant, relieved look of innocence on the boy's. Blair either didn't understand the facts or was unwilling to accept them. The kid clearly expected one of the groups of men in this room to make his world shift back on its axis and return his father to him.

Burke kept his face neutral and allowed his eyes to go cold. Glancing at his partner, he pulled his lips into a thin line and leaned back against the nearest crate, the perfect picture of uninterested detachment. Around him, his men moved in closer and found other things to look at besides the hopeful young man in the center of the room. Burke narrowed his eyes and focused on Blair.

"It sounds like your man has gotten himself into a tight spot. I don't see what we can do for you, kid."

"W-what?" The choked word came out barely audible in the silent room. Blair's mouth hung open and he blinked furiously, hoping having clearer sight would bring understanding along with it.

"Like your captain here said son, the lack of cooperation from the FBI and evidence of sealed information on your suspect, means government involvement at some level. If your detective hasn't been kidnapped for ransom or revenge, then it's something more complicated. We can't just jump into this."

Simon's heart bled at the sight of tremors beginning to shake through the young man. What little color Blair had drained from his cheeks, the only shade left to his skin was in the form of dark blue-black circles under his wide, betrayed eyes. Simon's deep voice was gentle but firm.

"Blair, you need to listen to him. He knows what he's talking about."

Burke shot a look of thanks to the police captain for the support. Daniel found his chest had tightened and his throat felt suddenly dry, but his outward appearance never changed. Damn, the kid could get to him like no one else ever had.

Jackson Burr stepped forward and touched an errant curl on Blair's head, tugging it playfully to lessen the blow of his words.

"We're army rangers, Blair. We're given assignments, we don't get to pick them. We follow orders. There are rules to obey and chains of command to consider. We aren't a private resource."

Blair pulled back, twisting his head away from the teasing touch, unwilling to be mollified or distracted.

"I can't believe your guys. I just don't believe it. Jim would be there if one of you needed him. Jim would do it because it was right, no matter what the rules were."

"Our hands are tied, little one. We can't interfere." Ethan resisted the urge to pull the youth to him and soothe away the pain so evident in his bright eyes.

"Then why did you even bother to come here tonight?" The unmistakable sound of tears caught in Blair's throat.

Weston grimaced at the sound and added his two cents. "We were nearby. We wanted to see how you were doing, especially under the circumstances. Wanted to make sure you were being taken care of until Ellison was found." An unspoken 'if ever' hung in the air.

"Just checking in, kid. Nothing more." Burke pulled the pained face back to focus on him, suffering the full force of Blair's betrayal and disgust.

"This is just fucking unbelievable, man." Tears streaked his pale face and his words tumbled over trembling lips.

"Blair." Blair ignored William completely, unwilling to turn his anger directly on Jim's father alone. Instead he directed it at the whole room, sharing his crushed and disillusioned expression with each man present.

"I depended on you, needed you. Jim needs you. You guys, all of you, are always strong, always reliable, always have an answer for every problem. You've all helped find me when I've been lost and took care of me when I was hurt. But all those times were nothing compared to now. Now I need you for Jim."

"We can't get involved with a private matter, kid." Burke hardened both his face and his heart against the blatant need radiating from the young grad student.

Anger and fear twisted together in Blair's chest to overwhelm his tenuous control. "That's rich, man. The first time we met, you kidnapped me to force a police officer to do something unethical. You rescued me in Mexico in the middle of a military operation when a drug dealer tried to sell me for ransom. So don't tell me you don't 'get involved' in private matters."

Shaking with outrage, Blair backed away from the huddle of men and threw his hands in air in disgust and frustration. He turned and raced towards one of the warehouse doors then stalked a few feet back towards the silent group, his voice all the more accusing in its quiet delivery.

"This is so much bullshit. I'll find Jim on my own. I don't get it, man. How can you not get involved?" Blair's expressive hid none of his disappointment and pain. "Where have all the heroes gone?"

A muffled, choked sob punctuated the air before the slamming of the heavy metal door cut it off.

"Blair. Blair. Don't you dare leave this---. Damn that kid." Simon threw down his chewed and mangled cigar and started after Blair. Burke's voice brought him to a halt.

"Let him have a little time to himself, Captain. He's pretty disappointed in all of us right now. Don't worry, Ethan will keep an eye on him. He'll follow him to see what he's up to. He's going to try and do something to find his friend; he might as well try it when he has a bodyguard with him. Hey, who knows, maybe the kid will come up with something useful but if not, at least he'll feel better that he tried. Ethan will have him home before long."

Simon looked around surprised to find the giant already missing. He had never even heard the big man move let alone leave the building.

"He'll be safe as a babe in his mother's arms."

"You don't know his mother very well, do you?" Simon grimaced at the poor choice of words.

Burke gave a tiny nod. He surprised at least half the men in the room with his response. "Well enough to know she isn't his mother. We need to talk gentlemen. Have a minute?"

**********************

Dow attached a final piece of tape to the dressing and tossed the roll into his first aide kit. Yards of gauze secured stacks of thick, white 4x4's and dense, non-stick telfa pads over each of the detective's abraded eyelids. A fresh coat of antibiotic crème over the remainder of Ellison's exposed face shone slick and white in the fading evening light, highlighting the man's sharp bone structure under the still swollen flesh.

Dow wondered how the man detached himself from the intense pain that had to accompany each of the dressing changes. Even with the use of the telfa, layers of skin continued to peel off with the old bandages, causing pulling of the delicate, swollen tissue and no small amount of bleeding.

Yet Ellison never flinched or turned away. The man never let out a grunt or even a sigh of relief when it was over. He just lay there, silent and uncharacteristically compliant.

Guessing Dow was studying his handiwork and feeling Dow's gaze on him, Jim turned in the direction of the body heat and the smell of Dow's cologne.

"See something you like, Ace?"

"You're a riot, Hero. Sorry, but you're not my type. I like them with long legs and dark hair. You may have the legs, but you lose in the hair department, in more ways than one. Not to mention having all the wrong equipment in between."

"And I thought all this special attention was because you were taken with me."

"I seriously doubt anyone but your kid would put up with you on a twenty-four hour basis. You make a rotten patient and worse kidnap victim, let me tell you."

"I haven't said a word about the first aid. But I do appreciate it."

Dow scowled at the thanks from his victim and pushed up out of his seat at Jim's bedside to return the kit to the kitchen counter. After washing his hands, Dow turned a puzzled, contemplative expression on his face.

"That's the problem. You never even grunt during what has to be a painful event. And then I can't get you to shut up about other things that aren't any of your business. Three days of listening to you preach at me about my career choice is three days too many. You mystify me, Hero."

"I just think you should reconsider your options, that's all. Returning a kidnap victim and turning state or federal evidence against a mobster would go a long way in starting over."

"What? Were you a door-to-door evangelist in another life?" The fact that Jim couldn't see Dow scowl didn't stop the man from glaring at the detective. "Maybe you've spent too much time listening to Naomi's 'down with capitalism' speeches."

Jim's mouth turned into a hard line at the mention of Blair's 'mother'. Dow caught his blunder as the words left his mouth but had no way to cover the fumble.

"What's Naomi Sandburg got to do with this? Is she behind this whole thing? Don't tell me she convinced Rosien to hold me here? What is she, his new girlfriend? Even 'free love' has its price, huh? Is she planning on taking Blair away? I promise you, you'll never live long enough to spend whatever she's paying you with if something happens to him."

Jim pulled ineffectively at the metal restraints and tried to rock the bolted down cot off its supports by throwing his body from side to side.

"Just calm down. Naomi isn't engineering this. I don't think Naomi Sandburg does anything that doesn't involve a lot of bucks for her effort."

The sarcasm was pointed and sincere. Dow moved quickly back to the side of the cot and placed a placating hand on one of Jim's shoulders.

Ellison wrenched his shoulder away but stopped tearing at the cuffs. Tilting his head to one side to focus his hearing on the other man's heartbeat, Jim tried to gauge the honesty of Dow's replies.

"Socialist, 'detach with love', down with capitalism, I'm not really Blair's mother Naomi?"

Dow decided that the cat was out of the bag anyway so he might as well explain a few things. Ellison would find out about them all when he was released anyway. Besides, he didn't owe the woman anything. As far as he was concerned, she didn't deserve his respect or his confidences. Ellison, on the other hand, was rapidly gaining both.

"You know about that. I'm surprised."

"Blair needed a blood transfusion recently. I matched his type, Naomi didn't. We talked."

"That explains it then. Here's a little news bulletin for you I'll bet she didn't tell you. Michael Rosien has been paying her for years to raise the kid."

Stunned and nearly speechless by the revelation, Jim lay back against the bedding. Thousands of questions formed in his mind but he only managed a weak joke in reply.

"With the effort she's put into the job, he should consider asking for a refund."

"I take you don't like Naomi very much."

"Let me put it this way, Ace. When she dies, munchkins will sing."

**********************

"Has Ellison told his cub about his mother?" Burke kept his voice non-judgmental.

Simon gave the tall, blonde man an exasperated glare. Single men had no concept of how busy a family man's life really was, especially single parent families.

"Not yet. Things have been…busy around here since Jim found out."

Burke nodded in agreement. He was well aware of most of what had happened in Blair and Jim's lives since he and his team had seen them last. He had been keeping unofficial tabs on their world ever since their first adventure together. Not only had the young grad student worked his way into each of their hearts, but all had developed a deep respect for the detective and his unusual abilities as well.

"I didn't think he had. It's not an easy subject to bring up let alone explain. That's going to make this whole situation more difficult."

William Ellison moved forward to plant himself in front of the stranger who seemed to have so much information about his family. The same man whom Blair said had once kidnapped him.

"What are you talking about? You know something about my son's disappearance?"

Burke eyed the older man appraisingly. He knew all about the two Ellisons' stormy relationship and was surprised, but pleased, to see the older man with Blair in the first place.

"More than we let the kid know, yes. Remember, gentlemen, what I'm about to tell you is confidential. You can't use any of it officially. I don't think hearing this from anyone but Ellison is the best idea for the kid either."

Simon joined Ellison in the verbal assault on the closed mouth covert ops agent. "Hearing what? Stop stalling. Jim's been missing for 4 days already."

"Slow down, gentlemen. I will." Burke resumed his prior position leaning against a crate and settled in for a long story. Weston and Burr moved to border him, one on each side, both men keeping a watch on the building interior as their leader concentrated on the other occupants of the room.

"It’s a possibility the man behind Ellison's disappearance is a guy named Michael Rosien, a European crime magnate. He spends half his life in France and the other half in Rhode Island and owns most of both of them. The thumbprint belongs to a man who works for him, his personal clean-up man. Been with Rosien a long time now. The guy used to be a cop. And before that, a ranger."

"You're joking. What's his name?"

"I wish I was. He's about your age, spent his time in the army with the Rangers, demolitions expert, as if you couldn't guess, then after discharge, joined up with the NYPD. He was a detective for 6 years. Name's Jason Dow."

"Jason Dow. How in hell did someone with that kind of background end up as hired muscle?" Simon shook his head in disgust.

"His wife and daughter were killed by a disgruntled drug supplier. Seems Dow was on the take and doing the dirty. It all came out in the murder investigation. Lost his family, his reputation and his career in about a week. That was 8 years ago."

"My God. How horrible." William reacted to the situation first, seeing the loss of irreplaceable loved ones before acknowledging the crime.

"How did Dow get hooked up with a European crime tycoon? They don't usually travel in the same circles as dirty cops." Confused and untrusting of the small group of strangers, William Ellison used his time to find holes in Burke's story.

Burke recognized the hostility in the man and understood. It was his son who was missing and by definition, his grandson who was frightened and running around trying to find the bad guys by himself, all 140 confused and angry pounds of him.

"Dow managed to avoid doing time. Lack of hard evidence combined with his wife and 6-year-old having just been shot to death and nobody was willing to push it. The DA pressed charges but then pressure from within the ranks of the PD and a sympathetic press forced them to make a deal. They settled for his badge. He had a pretty good arrest record up until the end. After Dow was thrown off the force, he set out on a personal vendetta to bring down the shooters."

"Sounds like another bad move on his part." The family man in Simon sympathized with the desire for revenge but the cop in him tempered the urge.

He thought fleetingly about his reactions to Keyes' timely death then thrust it to the dark reaches of his mind. If Jim hadn't taken care of things with the murdering child molester would he have done it himself? Maybe he could understand Dow's turning to the dark side. The sound of Burke's continued lecture pulled Simon back to the present situation.

"It was probably the alcohol doing his thinking for him. He hit the bottle pretty good for awhile according to his records. Dow tracked down the two of them and ended up in a shoot out in a little restaurant in Jersey. Same one Rosien was having dinner in at the time. Somewhere along the line Dow ended up saving Rosien life while trying to dust these two low-lifes. Turned out they were there to do a hit on Rosien. Then Rosien saved Dow's ass with the local law enforcement in gratitude and a relationship was born. He's been working for Rosien ever since."

"This is all fascinating, but what does it have to do with Naomi?" Ellison's eyes bored into Burke's blue ones and held on. Burke understood it would take a lot for this man to ever trust him. Realizing no time was going to be a good time for this, he took a deep breath and plunged in.

"Michael Rosien is Blair's paternal grandfather. He's been paying Naomi Sandburg to raise his grandson and keep him hidden for the last 23 years."

"Hidden from who?"

The two men converged on Burke as one. Expressions ranged from outrage and disbelief on Ellison to resigned acceptance on Simon. Burke dove in deeper.

"His real mother and his business enemies. Naomi Sandburg kidnapped the boy when he was 3 days old on Rosien orders. She's spent the last 23 years traveling around the world on Rosien's money, hiding the kid under forged documents, and the guise of communes, boyfriends and the charity of strangers. She obviously enjoys the money more than she does raising a kid."

A distressed look of acceptance settled over William Ellison's face.

"That's why he was never immunized, no consistent school records, no real home. Jimmy told me he wasn't even allowed to have friends while he was growing up. She told him it was so it wouldn't hurt when they decided to leave again. I can't believe this. How cruel can the woman be?"

The pain in the man's voice was clear, as was the shock of understanding.

"Apparently, pretty damn cruel, from the sounds of things." Burr cleared his throat to stop the lump forming there from choking him.

"More importantly, the next time she visits, do we arrest her on kidnapping charges?" Simon stared off into the distance mentally envisioning the scene, partially with a spark of anticipation.

"You can't use any of this, Captain Banks. The powers that be have the information and are prepared to use it officially when the time is right. Which is another reason why Ellison needs to get around to talking with his cub, before the federal government does it for him."

"That's probably why she hates Blair staying with Jim. Why she's always trying to come between their relationship." Simon shook his head and silently listed all of the complaints Naomi had about Jim and Blair's relationship, seeing each one in a new light.

"How did you find out about all this?" William's words remained challenging but the hard edge to his voice had softened. Burr glanced over at Burke, making sure the other man noticed the elder man's small concession before he took up the explanations.

"The records on Dow are accessible, if you have a need to know and a high enough security clearance. The rest about Naomi came from within Rosien's organization. There are leaks in every big operation. Besides, it's been going on for over 20 years. Someone is going to notice things after that amount of time." Burr's deep voice lent a sobering air to the statements.

"I still don't understand what this has got to do with Jim's disappearance. What would Rosien want with Jim? Why are you telling us this now?" Simon's patience was beginning to wear thin and his worry over Blair's running away increased with each moment spent in the warehouse talking.

Burke knew it was time to wrap up the party.

"It's rumored Rosien is starting to feel his age. He's looking to spend a little time with his grandson. Up until now, he's been content to watch from afar, through pictures and videotapes Naomi and other operatives provided. Now he wants to be a part of the kid's life. Any one, who knows the kid, knows Ellison is the center of his world. No one is getting close to the boy with him around, especially a criminal, no matter how rich or blood-related he is. Can you honestly see Ellison allowing a man like Rosien within spitting distance of his cub? He protects him like a wild creature does it young."

Simon shoved his unlit cigar into his pocket and scowled heavily at Burke and each of his men in turn.

"So Jim has to disappear? I can't buy that. Blair would never forgive this man if he caused something to happen to Jim. No matter who he was."

"If Blair knew he was responsible." Burr stated the obvious calmly and without malice. "Luckily Rosien doesn't understand just how tight-knit the kid's extended family really is."

"As soon as I get my hands on him he'll understand, at least the part about Rosien trying to make contact with him. I'll make up a reason for now if I have to. Right after I tan his hide for leaving here earlier."

Burke snorted. "I won't argue with you there, but you'd better check and see if Ethan got to him first."

*********************

Blair shifted nervously in his seat and tried to look around the bar with out attracting attention. From the moment he arrived at the seedy dive the other patrons had been throwing glances his way, some hostile, some curious and some down right leering.

One man in particular seemed to take an unhealthy interest in him, smiling like a shark that had just been thrown fresh young meat. Blair made sure he never made eye contact with that one again after the first long, appreciative look.

Tapping his fingers nervously on the tabletop brought him the unwanted attention of the 50-something waitress.

"You want another beer, sweet cheeks?" She hovered over him, her breath heavy with the smell of cigarette and whiskey, hot and nauseating on his cheek and way too near to his lips for comfort. Startled, Blair pulled back and blinked wide, confused eyes at the woman. She straightened and chuckled until the amusement turned into a harsh smoker's cough.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, precious. I can see you're still nursing the first one. What's a pretty young thing like you doing in this joint? Past your bedtime isn't it? The trash that hangs out here will eat you alive, a couple of them probably literally."

Blair blushed and nervously ran a hand self-consciously through his curls.

"I'm looking for a guy. Maybe you know him? He goes by the name Runner. Know if he's around tonight?"

"What do you want with a creep like that, honey?"

"He's sort of a friend of a friend and I think he can help me with a problem. I need some information. Please, it's really important."

Desperate need radiated off of Blair, touching even this crass woman's hardened heart.

"How important?"

"Life and death important."

"That's pretty important then."

The waitress eyed the growing crowd of her usual patrons. Her gaze settled briefly on one man, her lips twisting into a line of distaste, before it shifted back to the pleading face beside her.

"Give me a minute, sweetie. I'll see what I can do. You just sit there and pretend you aren't really here."

Blair nodded and hunched further into the corner of his booth. Risking a covert glance over the back of the worn seat, he watched the woman whisper in the ear of someone he couldn't see clearly through the smoke filled bar. Suspicious eyes darted over to look into his own, making Blair slink back down into the cracked vinyl cushion.

Seconds later, a shadow loomed over him blocking out the dim light of the dirty ceiling fixture. Blair swallowed hard and looked up into the smiling face of the leering man from earlier.

"I hear you're looking for some information, kid." A long appraising look scanned his face and hair, slowly dropping to his lap. Blair shifted nervously and pulled his coat more securely around him to ward off a sudden chill.

"You're Runner?"

Blair wanted to hear this man say no, he was just an informant with a way to reach the one he needed. Blair really didn't want to have to ask this guy any favors.

"Maybe."

Runner's smile turned into a grin of amusement at the young man's ill ease. He found the nervous innocence very appealing. Running a hand through his thick brown hair, Runner adopted a sultry look and turned on his charm. A handsome man in his mid-thirties, he was no stranger to the assets of pretty young men. He had been one himself.

"Ah, well, okay. You don't know me, but I work with Jim Ellison. I'm his partner."

Runner slid onto the seat, crowding Blair even tighter into the booth and trapping him there.

"Don't lie to me, kid. It's not a smart thing to do if you want my help."

Blair blinked up at him in child-like surprise. "I'll not lying, honest, man. I am Ellison's partner. His roommate, too. I was waiting outside in the truck when he met you a couple of weeks ago about the Morgan case. That's how I knew where to find you, honest."

Runner let his skeptical stare bore into Blair. Unable to affect the affronted expression on the young man's face, Runner decided to go along with the situation. He could walk away at any time. This boy certainly didn't have the means to stop him from leaving or from taking anything else he wanted either.

"Okay. Say I believe you. What do you want from me?"

"I need some help getting some information. Jim's missing and I need help to find him." Relief spread through Blair's entire body.

Runner's smile turned predatorial. He reached out to fondle an errant curl at Blair's shoulder, looping it around one finger loosely.

"Nothing comes cheap these days. You willing to pay for this?"

Oblivious to the double meaning of the man's words, Blair pulled his hair out of the unresisting grasp and bit at his lower lip in concentration. Uncomfortable and restless in this man's company, Blair wanted to bolt from the booth and never come within five miles of the establishment again, but fear and worry over Jim's disappearance erased every other personal concern. Warning bells and whistles were shoved into a dark corner of his mind.

Forcing his eyes to meet the waiting dark ones, Blair exhaled heavily and nodded. "Yeah, man. I'll pay. I can come up with some cash. If it's not enough, I can pay you more after I get my check next week for school."

"Maybe we can agree on a payment option that wouldn't strain your finances too much. I'm a reasonable man."

Glancing around the dimly lit area to be sure no one was paying too much attention to them, Runner smiled and ran an appraising eye over Blair's slim body.

"Let's take this little discussion to a less public place."

"Um, okay. Whatever, man. Just as long as you agree to help find Jim."

Runner pulled back from his domineering position and backed out of the booth. Blair slowly exhaled in relief as the man moved, thankful when the odor of sweat and cheap cologne went with him.

Runner stepped aside and gestured Blair out of his seat and down a

shadowed hall leading to the restrooms. Halfway there, Runner placed a hand on the small of Blair's back and firmly shoved him out a back exit into a side service alleyway.

Blair stumbled into an empty garbage can, sending it clattering across the filthy pavement. A vise-like grip latched onto his right upper arm, bringing him to an abrupt halt, back pinned against a wall.

"Ah, t-thanks, I-I'm good."

"Yeah, you are."

Blair tried to shake the tight grip off only to have Runner press his chest to Blair's, holding the younger man roughly against the building.

"Hey, man, you can let go now."

"I thought we would go over the payment plan before we went any farther. Maybe have you make a little down payment up front."

"I-I---"

Runner dipped his head and tried to capture Blair's mouth with his own. Runner eased his body the length of Blair's enjoying the agitated squirming the action produced in his young captive.

A vivid memory of groping hands and hot, panting breathes echoed in Blair's head. Imaginary bands closed on his throat and he began to gasp for air that refused to enter his lungs. Black spots danced before his eyes and bile rose in his throat. Even the scent of Keyes sweat filled his nostrils as this new, but oh so familiar, predator tried to overpower and dominate him.

Pulling back from the edges of his most recent nightmare with a sharp gasp, Blair drove his knee up and into Runner's groin. Prepared for the move, his attacker blocked the thrust and pulled back far enough to backhand Blair.

Bracing himself, Blair threw both arms up to cover his face, blocking the ugly sneer from his line of sight. Suddenly his unwanted support disappeared and Blair slid to the litter covered concrete.

Blair surged up, ready to defend himself as best he could against the larger more experienced man, to find his attacker bleeding from his mouth and his nose, a sprawled unconscious in a heap among the decaying waste and crumpled litter of the street. Blair blinked furiously at the unexpected sight.

At the sound of a deep, familiar voice, Blair gasped and spun around so fast he fell over. The hard pavement met soundly with his backside for only a moment before he was raised off the ground. Expecting to be set on his feet, Blair panicked slightly when he continued to drift up into the air. Strong hands under his arms effortlessly held his body aloft, tightening ever so noticeably when he tried to wriggle in protest. Finally face to face with his new captor, Blair smiled hesitantly at the shadowy form before him, trying inconspicuously to blink a trickle of blood away from his right eye.

"Hi, Ethan. Ah, um, come here often?"

Swat!

"Hey! Ow!"

Swat!

"Ow! OW! Hey, hey, man."

SWAT! SWAT! SWAT!

"OWWWW! I can explain!"

SWAT!

**********************

Blair Sandburg decided Simon Banks really was a very large man. Especially if you had to look up at him from about six inches away. A large man with very large hands.

"I have had just about enough from you, young man. What did you think you were doing, running away from us like that? Especially when you knew you were being followed?"

"Maybe I was thinking that somebody needed to do something to find Jim? Because nobody was?"

"What did you just say?"

Opting for silence, Blair cringed at the deafening roar of Simon's voice. Sinking further into the sofa in embarrassment, he almost regretted that his indignation and pain had made his actions so reckless, but only almost. It had felt good to actually do something himself to look for Jim. He stole a fugitive glance around the room, his view partially obscured by the ice pack held to his right eye.

Ethan James' large form filled up the far end of the opposing couch, his face reflecting only a small portion of the concern he felt for his young friend. His dark eyes locked on Blair's shy glance and held it. He bit back a smile as Blair squirmed in his seat, the memory of several painful swats in the back alley obviously still fresh in the young man's mind.

When Ethan had shown up at Ellison's apartment with the precocious runaway, Simon Banks and William Ellison had been torn between relief and anger.

Blair's injury, a small abrasion over his right eyebrow, had defused the intensity of the older men's responses, but it didn't stand a chance of altering the volume Simon used to convey his displeasure. William Ellison settled for penetrating looks of disappointment and worry while Simon bellowed out his fear and frustration.

Blair tugged free of the giant's visual hold and returned his attention to the man looming over him. A sudden burst of anger welled up and spurred him into action. Jumping up from his seat, Blair slipped past the towering man and moved to stand behind the sofa, prudently using the furniture as a barrier. He fumbled to retain a hold on the ice pack treating his facial wound.

"Answer me."

Finding a little volume of his own, Blair bristled back. "I said, at least I was doing something to find Jim. I meant that at least I cared enough to do something to find Jim, even if it wasn't the best plan, I did something."

Turning an unhealthy shade of purple, Simon stuttered for several seconds in disbelief. Stunned, he watched the compress fly from Blair's hand to thud soundly against the far wall of the room, revealing the small bruise and blood-encrusted, raw skin from underneath. Blair's cheeks were bright red, skin shiny with the glow of embarrassment and anger.

"You certainly did. You ran away into the night, alone and unprotected while fully aware of the fact that an unknown element was following you. You entered a bar Jim would ground you for a month for just being in the neighborhood, let alone suggesting you were going to visit. You got yourself manhandled and injured for putting your trust in a complete stranger again, and you did it all while being rude, petulant, disrespectful and foul-mouthed. God only knows what would have happened to you if James hadn't shown up in that alley when he did. Quite an accomplishment. I hope you're proud of yourself because I'm certainly not."

Color washed from Blair's face at Simon's harsh but truthful words. Blair suddenly found the seam on the back of the couch a highly interesting feature for prolonged silent study. Blood pounded in his head as his temper peaked and quickly ebbed away to be replaced with remorse.

Casting a glance from the corner of his eye over at his 'grandfather', Blair expected to see disappointment and disgust in the man's expression, but saw only pain and worry in the elder Ellison's face. Regret burrowed deeper into his already wounded heart.

Thankfully, attention was diverted from him as a single knock on the loft door turned everyone's eyes to the entrance of Burke, Burr and Weston. The three new arrivals nodded quiet hellos, but faded immediately into the background of the room settling down at the dining room table. Blair was painfully aware that they knew he was in the middle of being scolded.

Tears played at the corners of his eyes as weariness descended over him, the adrenaline dissipating with the knowledge that most of the remainder of his extended family was present and accounted for. They hadn't abandoned him, hadn't left him alone with the impossible task of finding Jim, his father, his partner, and his best friend. If Burke and his men were still hanging around after that speech they had given him back at the warehouse, then they must be more willing to help than they had let on.

Days of stress combined with real physical exhaustion teamed up to crumble what defenses the young man had left to do battle with the grown-up, devious, unfair world his safe haven had become. Pulling in a ragged breath, Blair shook with the intensity of the sudden release of anxiety, confusion and fear as he exhaled. His voice, choked and barely audible, stammered out words between tight swallows of air.

"I'm so sorry." Gasp. "I-I just miss Jim." Sniffle. "I w-want him h-home." Sob.

Soft gasps and muffled, tiny, hitched sobs filled the loft air as six domineering, alpha male personalities in the room struggled to maintain their gruff, I'm-too-angry-with-you-to-fall-for-that-lost-little-boy-act attitudes. Unfortunately, it wasn't an act and each man knew it.

Predictably, it was the one man who didn't usually need to have Blair's unquestioning obedience on a regular basis to keep him alive who broke down first.

"Blair, come here, son."

With a strangled whimper of relief, Blair raced to William's open arms and buried himself in the offered comfort. Shutting his eyes to the other occupants shifting uncomfortably where they sat or stood, Blair allowed himself to wallow in the unexpected warmth of Jim's father's embrace. Soothing words of understanding and acceptance flowed over him. His emotions raw and completely exposed for the first time since Jim's disappearance, Blair responded in kind.

"I'm so sorry. I am. I never meant those things. About any of you. I was just angry and worried. I know you all trying. But what if Jim's d-dead? What will we do then? What will I do? What, Poppa? What?"

The last few words tapered off into an intelligible, whispered moan of actual physical pain. Blair though he could actually feel his heart breaking, the tightness in his chest was so overwhelming.

William hugged the quaking body closer and closed his eyes against the pain his own heart felt, turning his attention to the needs of the slight youth in his arms. It had been a very long time since he had comforted and consoled anyone. Ellison was suddenly bowled over by the surge of paternal protectiveness and possessiveness that the lost waif-like creature in his arms pulled from the depths of long surpressed emotions. The added endearment of "Poppa" so easily slipping past the young man's lips opened his own floodgate of despair.

"It'll be all right, Blair. Don't worry. We'll find Jimmy. He's strong and he's smart, very smart, a survivor. We'll find him." William opened his eyes to scan the room, resting his determined, if somewhat blurry gaze on each of the other men in turn.

"Won't we gentlemen." Ellison made the words a statement of fact instead of a question.

Simon swallowed past the lump in his throat and walked over to rest a hand on one of Blair's shoulders. Unable to resist, he ran a large hand gently through the disheveled curls, combing his fingers into the tangled mass to rub lightly at the skin beneath. Simon struggled to make his emotion-rough voice light and teasing.

"Of course, we'll find him. Don't you have any respect for my detective skills left, boy?"

Blair turned his head to the side and let one tear filled eye blink up at the big man. Releasing an arm from around William, Blair reached out and wrapped it around Simon's waist as best he could, drawing the huge man tightly to his side.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Simon. I do trust you."

Simon rolled his eyes in mock exasperation at the four amused voyeurs in the room. Undaunted by the covert ops men's restrained expressions, Simon sighed and peeled Blair away from the comforting embrace. William reluctantly loosened his grip on the youth and stepped back allowing the police captain to take over the next needed conversation.

"Son, you have to know we're doing everything we can and you have to believe Jim is alive and doing everything he can to stay that way until we find him. And we will find him. It's just going to take a less conventional approach than we're used to using. But we will find a way."

Blair heaved a chest full of air out and tried to steady his frayed nerves. Feeling slightly self-conscious of his emotional display in front of Burke and his men, he started to blush furiously then decided that pride wasn't nearly as important as comfort was right now. Slipping out of Simon's loose hold, he shyly invaded the dining area and rapidly hugged each surprised, but pleased covert agent. Ethan's hug lasted longest and Blair needed to catch his breath from it before apologizing.

"I'm sorry I was so rude and disrespectful. I know you'd guys help if you could. I guess I just expected too much. I understand where you're coming from. I don't like it, but I understand. I shouldn't have said what I said."

Sad, sleepy eyes locked on to each heart under the standard black covert ops clothing and burnt a hole through to their very centers. Burke sighed loudly and shifted in his chair, unhappy to cave so easily under the innocent, trusting assault. Burke found it was more effective than an automatic weapon in the hands of a trained assassin.

"We may be able to help after all."

"What?" Blair's mouth dropped open.

"I did some checking and Rosien owns several islands around the world, most notably, two off the coast of Washington State. Dow couldn't take a man like Ellison far on his own. It makes sense that he's being held someplace fairly close but isolated. Either one of these two islands would do the trick for him."

"I can't believe this. Who's Rosien? Is that the guy that kidnapped Jim? When did you find that out? Why did he do it? What's he want?"

Joy was rapidly replacing the sadness and despair in Blair's eyes, too rapidly for Burke's liking.

"Just settle down, squirt. All your questions will have to wait. We're getting a little more information gathered for us and I'll have some answers for you then. We'll come up with an appropriate plan of action by morning. I'm not promising anything here. We have to wait and see what, if anything surfaces. Ethan managed to lose your tail on the way back from your little adventure in pimp land earlier, so they still don't know anyone else is involved. That's a plus for us."

"I knew you guys could do it. I knew it. Why can't you tell me now?" Blair's natural bounce crept back into his posture and alerted the group the he was working his way up to off and running, usually without a plan of action.

"Just slow down and take a breath. There are no guarantees here. It'll be hours before we hear anything and we all need some rest especially you. You look like you're ready to drop, Cub."

"No, I'm good."

"Bed. Now." A thunderous look from Simon and a displeased noise from the back of William's throat drew Blair's instant attention. Burke stood and gently steered the unwilling body towards what was obviously the open doorway of the young man's room, discarded clothing, books and miscellaneous artifacts giving away the owner's identity at a glance.

"If you were up to acting as bright as I know you are, you'd be in bed before 'Uncle Simon" over there realizes he owes you a warm backside yet."

Blair threw a startled glance at the big man in question and nervously turned to face the room, backing towards the safety of his room along the way.

"Ah, yeah, night everyone. I really am sorry about earlier. I-I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

"I'll be in to tend to that cut in a minute, son." William smiled, delighted to finally get to play grandpa for the first time.

A round of soft murmurs answered the stammering young man as Blair disappeared tactfully behind his door. Just as the men relaxed and cast an understanding, relieved look at each other, Blair popped back out, holding onto the door, his body half hidden by the glass panes, big eyes and riotous curls peeking out.

"Oh, I forgot. Um, you guys really are my heroes, Simon, Mr. Elli-P-Poppa, all you guys. Everyday, in all kinds of ways. Jim and I couldn't have a better family. I love you. Night."

Blair vanished as swiftly as he had appeared, leaving an emotional tidal wave to swell over the room in his wake. Ethan chuckled at the shell-shocked expressions on his companion's faces and verbalized what each of them clearly felt.

"Brought to our knees by a half-pint whose only weapon is his heart. I think our bad ass reputations just took a crippling, direct hit, my brothers."

Weapons expert Ray Weston raised a hand, index finger extended and thumb raised in a mocking caricature of a loaded gun. With exaggerated care he aimed at each man's heart and finished him off with a quiet "bang". Lastly, he turned the loaded finger on himself and fired his remaining shot, falling dramatically to the floor at Burr's feet for added effect.

Burke shook his head, arched his eyebrows and looked up at Simon.

"Exactly how many kids do we have, anyway?"

*********************

"I still think you're wrong. The other island makes more sense." Blair pointed to his laptop monitor and tapped the air before the screen in an exaggerated effort to emphasize his point.

"No it doesn't." Daniel Burke refused to be swayed.

"Yes, it does. If what you’ve been telling me all morning is accurate about this guy Rosien, he loves playing an inside joke when he can, even if he has to take a risk to do it. The old lighthouse is perfect. Everyone is looking for a man being held in plain sight in a house that is meant to illuminate and warn. Jim is there, I know it."

Burke shook his head and returned his focus to a last minute check of his supplies and equipment.

"It makes more sense for Dow to take him to the other one. It has only a few very isolated cabins on it and its wide open from all sides. It leaves them several escape routes because it's just too big for us to watch all of it at once. It's more easily defended and closer to the shoreline. Nobody cares about anyone else's business there and most of the five cabins aren't even rented out right now. This is the one."

Blair threw his head back and scrunched his eyes closed in frustration. His eyes sprung open and he squirmed on the hard seat of the dining room chair trying to regain the determined operative's lagging attention.

"You're wrong, man. Just listen to me. Please."

"Ellison isn't going to be there." Burke allowed a measure of steel to color his words. He was tired of battling with the never-ending stream of rebellious attitude and nearly convincing arguments from this overly intelligent, highly frustrating but engaging little pain in the ass.

"Yes, he will. I know he will. You'll see when we get there."

Five sets of eyes turned to look at him, most of them with eyebrows arched in amazement. Burke couldn't keep the sarcasm from coming through.

"We? We aren't going anywhere, Cub. My men and I are going to Bast Island and you and your band of merry men are staying on shore. We're not even supposed to be here let alone allow civilians to be involved or be placed in harms way. Even police captains. Certainly not retired businessmen or too-smart-for their-own-good, stubborn anthropologists."

Blair's mouth dropped open. He darted a hot, disbelieving look at Simon's noncommittal expression and landed back at Burke's cold stare. "That's not fair. I have to go with you. Jim will need me."

Burke stood and arranged gear snuggly in their proper places on his body. Around the room James, Burr and Weston were busy doing the same thing.

"You're not going. Simon isn't going, and William isn't going. That's final."

Blair pushed angrily away from the table and paced to the kitchen and back, hands drawing choppy pictures in the air as he talked.

"That's perfect. Since you're going to the wrong island anyway."

Daniel's blue stare stopped the restless pacing and pinned the troubled young man's feet to the floor. "The odds are in my favor kid, accept it. We have the best chance of finding Ellison on the inner island. Paladin Island is a long shot."

Blair's face wrinkled in confusion. "Paladin? Is that what the other one is named?"

"Yeah kid, it is. What of it?"

Blair blinked rapidly, shaking his head at the coincidence, but accepting the truth of the fact. "Do you know what 'Paladin' means. Literally?"

Burke widened his eyes expectantly and opened his hands to the air, gesturing to Blair to answer his own question before his patience truly deserted him.

"It means protector or guardian. You know, another word for sentinel, man."

Excitement was clearly evident in Blair's tone and by the return of the incessant toe bounce that signaled a discovery to all that knew him well.

"And that means…" James cut in, clearly confused by the reference.

Blair breathed a faint "oh", and looked to Simon for support. The big man just smiled sweetly and crossed his arms over his chest. Blair stuttered under the intensity of four covert ops agent's scrutiny.

"Ah, um, well, nothing…really, I was just …ah…"

Burke sighed and wondered how Ellison survived this on a daily basis. Maybe the detective was enjoying this short reprieve from the incessant talking and questioning, but… probably not.

"Well, research it all you want, kid. You've got plenty of time while we're gone."

Blair tried one more time to sway the men to see the situation as he saw it.

"Simon, please. Tell them we're going too."

Simon leaned back against the wall and rearranged his crossed arms more comfortably, sending out the visual message that he was not going to be manipulated.

"I could, but we're not, so I won't waste my breath. Let these men do their jobs. This is what they do. This is what they're good at. Let's just be ready for Jim when he gets home."

Nearly tearful with anxiety and stress, Blair choked on the words. "He's on the other island, I know it."

"Blair." Steely determination echoed in the room as both Burke and Simon bellowed his name at the same time.

"I'm---"

Simon ended the discussion. "Enough. These men are professionals. If they think the inner island is the best chance of finding Jim, then we have to believe they know what they're talking about."

Sullenly turning his back on Simon, Blair muttered darkly at the screen and covertly began saving maps and ocean charts to download to the printer in his room.

Burke and his men gathered up their packs, casting exasperated, fond glances at the hunched and dejected form scuffing his feet by the dining room table. Blair turned to face them as they went out the door, glancing shyly up at each one, allowing the full force of his hurt and disappointment to shine through. Seemingly unfazed, the black ops crew disappeared without comment, the soft thud of the loft door closing the only sound to fill the tense air.

Simon walked over and placed a hand on Blair's arm, both placating and reassuring at the same time. "They'll find him. Jim will be home before nightfall. You're the one who said to trust these men. Remember?"

Blair nodded and heaved a deep sigh of frustration. "I do trust them."

Rubbing a hand over his face Blair closed his eyes and willed his racing heart to slow down for fear Simon would hear it at this close range. His heart always seemed to do that when he was planning a deceitful act, betraying him to his sentinel before he even got past the planning stage. But this time his sentinel wasn't around to hear it.

"Simon, I think I'm going to go lay down for a little while. I didn't sleep all that well last night and I want to be able to stay awake if Jim comes home."

"When Jim comes home."

"Yeah, when."

"I think that's a good idea. I have a few calls to make myself. I'll check in with Joel at the station. Jim's dad should be back from by then. I'll fill him in on what's happening."

"Yeah, okay, you do that. Ah, I-I'll just go lay down."

"I'll wake you if anything goes down sooner than we expected."

"Um, ah, okay."

Blair slipped behind his bedroom door and closed it until only a sliver of the next room could be seen. He pulled a stadium jacket out of his closet and filled his backpack with a sweater of Jim's that had made it's way into his clothes and a first aide kit from his own pack. Pulling the maps and directions from the printer tray, Blair stuffed them into his packet.

Fluffing numerous throw pillows under his comforter into the rough shape of a sleeping body, Blair peeked out the crack and listened. Hearing Simon's deep voice rumble through the loft on the phone, he backed away and slowly released the multiple locks on the back door in his room. Thanking cranky sentinels who hated squeaky hinges and oiled the loft doors regularly, Blair slipped out onto the fire escape and into the early morning's gray light.

One gray shadow peeled off of a nearby wall and followed.

**************

"Just remember, Martin, you have to call Simon just as soon as you drop me off on the island. Can you call from the boat? He needs to get in touch with some friends and arrange for them to come and get Jim and me…Cool… I can't call him now… Trust me, man. It has to be this way… Because no one believes me. I have to get to Jim first and prove I was right. Then they won't have a reason to crumple me up like a wad of newspaper and bounce me off a wall for doing this alone… Okay, twenty minutes. I owe you, man…Ah, I'll have to get back with you about that. Jim has some…issues about my schedule as it is. I'm pretty sure picking up your study group for two weeks would guarantee me the being bounced off the wall thing… Yeah, man, parents are a pain sometimes… I'll bitch about it after he's back home… Right. I'm here. See ya in twenty."

Blair hung up the pay phone and clenched both hands in a small triumphant raised jerk of his arms. Martin Wicks, a marine biology major from the university and long time friend, had agreed to take Blair out to Paladin Island.

Blair's warning that it might be a dangerous trip only peaked Wicks' interest more and ensured the closet armchair crime fighter would break a few traffic laws on the trip down to the marina to meet Blair.

Turning suddenly away from the open cubicle, Blair bumped into the man who had been lounging beside him, apparently waiting his turn for the phone. Brimming with excitement and nervous energy, Blair graced the man with a wide-eyed smile and bounced out of his way.

"Oh, hey, I'm sorry. Excuse me. Didn't see you there."

The man grunted without looking Blair in the eye and moved to the phone. Blair wiped the man from his thoughts and strode toward the pier Martin's boat was docked at, pulling maps and computer printouts out of his pack on the way, missing the way the other man's thoughtful gaze trailed after him.

Pretending to use the pay phone's handset, the man pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed. After a moment's conversation he hung up and dialed again.

"You've got accompany coming. I don't how he did it, but the smart little shit figured out where you are and managed to lose his tail last night. Time to pull back and regroup. This wasn't the easy show it was supposed to have been. He said you're to make sure neither of them is hurt getting on or off the island… I don't know. That's what he pays you for, hotshot… It's just the boy for now, but the Man says to tell you he received word that a small group of men are searching the other island… The Man said they looked military…. Could be, Ellison has connections there. He didn't think they were connections the kid could make too… How the hell would I know where he'd get them? … Just take care of things and get the hell out of Dodge. He expects you back at the estate in 24 hours with lots of stories to tell about super cop there. He's not happy this little set-up didn't pan out the way he wanted it. He didn't even get a chance to see the kid in person, let alone talk to him and get cozy like he planned. He isn't going to be happy for the next month…That's physically impossible. Bite me, Dow."

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, the man scanned the surrounding docks and gently bobbing boats, relieved the gray skies were limiting the number of people willing to brave the choppy water and chill air. Heading in the direction Blair had trotted off in, he pulled his coat closer around him and turned up the collar against the wind.

"God damn kid. I get half a chance I'm locking a homing device around his neck. Maybe one of those doggy collars that delivers an electric shock if they wander to far from home. What am I saying? Ellison has to have fitted him for one of those already. Maybe the batteries need to be replaced. Christ, where the hell did the brat go?"

Catching sight of wind blown brown curls, the disgruntled man hastened through the maze of sailboats and cruisers muttering threats and fantasizing about retaliation.

**********************

Jumping off the Tritan Walkaround cruiser and steadying himself on the rocky surface of the Paladin shoreline, Blair turned to catch his backpack. Martin Wicks tossed the pack one handed and watched as it sailed through the air to land in the out stretched arms of its owner.

"Thanks, Martin. You have just saved a life, man. You've got Simon's number?" Blair kept his voice low and soft.

Martin picked up on the secretive atmosphere and whispered back. "You bet. I'll head back to the mainland as soon as I call him. You sure you don't want me to come along or go get those guys off the other island?"

"NO!" Abject panic made Blair's mouth dry and his tone slightly higher then usual. "Just call that number and tell Simon what I told you. He'll take care of everything else. Okay?"

Martin shrugged his agreement and pulled the mooring rope from Blair's lax grip. "Sure thing. Be careful, Blair. I know that's not your strong suit but try."

"I will, now just get going." Blair grimaced in private acknowledgement of the truth. "Thanks, Martin."

Wicks eased the cruiser away from land and headed in toward the mainland, radio in hand to contact the Cascade police captain.

Martin had studied the maps Blair had downloaded earlier that morning and picked a tiny inlet near the lighthouse to deposit his adventurous friend. Both Blair and Martin felt he was far enough away to be undetected from the lighthouse but near enough that Blair won't struggle to make his way to the island's only structure.

Exactly two minutes into his trek up the scrub covered rock, Blair passed by a huge outcropping of rock. Three seconds later, he was clenching his eyes shut at the searing pain of having his hair brutally seized and twisted from behind. Both hands flew to the source of the pain and wrapped around one meaty fist tangled firmly in his curls deep enough to scrap skin off of his scalp.

"Augh! Hey! Ow! God, man, stop it. OW."

"Stay facing forward and put your hands behind your back. NOW." The low menacing growl puffed hot breath into his ear and sent shivers through his shoulders and neck.

"Okay, okay, just lighten up on the hair man, I think its bleeding."

The only response was another harsh tug of the meaty fist bringing tears to Blair's closed eyes and making him gasp involuntarily for breath as pain arced down his spine like an electric current. His captor took advantage of the moment and slipped a soft length of cloth over his head and tied it tightly at his neck, pulling several strands of curls painfully into the knot. The pressure was so intense Blair's eyeballs ached.

"There, now you have a Band-Aid on it. Touch it and I'll break your fingers, understand?" A heavy hand gripped his neck and flexed slightly to emphasize the warning.

"Yeah, yeah, man. I got it. No touching." Blair's hands twitched involuntarily at his sides.

"Put your hands in the front pockets of your jeans and leave them there."

"Okay. Just be cool, okay?" Blair hastened to stuff his hands deep into the tight pockets of fabric as the man's fingerprints threatened to embed themselves in his flesh.

"You step where I tell you to step and no where else, got it? That's if you don't want to have pieces blown off your body by tripping over any hidden explosives."

"That is like so not cool, man." The innocent admonishment was amusingly clear.

Unseen to his newest captive, Jason Dow grinned and rolled his eyes but was careful to keep amusement out of his voice.

"Like I care, kid. Walk."

****************

Dow pulled Blair into the lighthouse and marched him over to the bed Jim lay on. A gentle shove forced the young man to sit on the floor by Jim's feet.

"We have unexpected guests, Hero."

Immediately identifying Blair's heartbeat and scent, Jim raised his shoulders and head from the mattress.

"Chief?"

"J-jim? Jim, D-dad is that you, Dad?" Blair sobbed and scrambled up to his knees, reaching blindly forward, hands finding blanket-covered feet and legs.

"Hey, hey, slow down, slow down. It's okay. It me."

Working his way rapidly up the firm limbs, Blair allowed Jim's body to guide him to the head of the bed. Frantic hands scrabbled over Jim's chest and neck, fingers gentling when they encountered the gauze encircling the detective's head. One hand searched the bedclothes until smaller fingers entwined with longer ones in a crushing grip.

"Jesus, Jim. Oh God, are you all right? I can't see, man, he's got me blindfolded. Are you okay? What happened to your eyes? Damn, I've missed you."

"I'm fine, Chief. What the hell are you doing here? Where's Simon?" Jim strained at his bonds, trying to get enough leverage to pull the young man closer.

"He-he's coming." Blair avoided any elaboration on this particular subject until he could explain everything in private. Hopefully from across a large room. Blair reached up and tugged at the thick fabric over his eyes resulting in his wrist being roughly grabbed and pinned to the back of his head from behind. Dow hissed low in Blair's ear.

"I told you not to touch that. Would you prefer to wait for your ride home unconscious?"

"N-no." Blair gulped and whispered in a shaky reply.

"Then leave it on." Dow pressed the slim wrist in his hand hard against Blair's skull and released it, confident his message had finally been received. Blair pulled his aching wrist to his chest and once again fumbled for Jim's hand.

The Blessed Protector surged forward at the soft sound of Blair's pained gasp. "He will, just back off, Ace. He's not used to this. He's scared."

"He should be scared. What the hell is he doing coming to this place by himself anyway? Doesn't he have more sense than that? You training him to be a hero too, just like his daddy?"

A small explosion rattled the lighthouse windows, drawing everyone attention.

"Sounds like you have more than one unexpected visitor." Jim's self-satisfied tone was enhanced by a knowing smirk.

"It's Daniel and the guys, Jim. They came to help." Blair couldn't keep the smug satisfaction out of his voice.

Dow quickly gathered his few needed belonging from the room and stuff them into a waterproof bag, checking that his gun and his radio were close at hand.

"They aren't unexpected, that's why they're finding my booby traps. It'll take them half-hour to work their way up here safely. Time enough for me to say goodbye and be halfway to home before they find you. I'll leave the keys to the handcuffs on the table. Junior here can take off his blindfold after he counts to twenty. I recommend that both of you stay inside until your friends show up. I have the whole island rigged with anti-personnel mines. We wouldn't want any accidents to happen after I've been so careful with you. Until next time, Hero."

Dow couldn't resist a light tap to the bottom of Jim's shoe by way of a more personal goodbye. He really had come to like and respect the tenacious detective.

Blair fumed at the congenial tone of the kidnapper's voice. "Just get away from us. No offense, but I don't want to ever have to think about you creeps again. Ever. There won't be a next time, mister."

Dow stood motionless in the doorway, stalled in his escape by Blair's bitter, reckless words. Making a split second decision he was sure he would live to regret, Dow shot forward and yanked Blair's blindfold off. Gripping the surprised and now fearful young man by the jaw, Dow jerked Blair close to him and forced him to look him in the eye.

Breath coming in short hitched gasps, Blair swallowed hard and tried not to cringe, reluctant to let Jim's kidnapper know the full extent of his terror. Tough words thrown at a fleeing man were one thing, up close and in this man's face were another. Blair reminded himself that the ex-cop turned gangster had been good enough to take down Jim.

"Take a good look, kid, and remember my face. You haven't seen the last of Rosien or me. As much as I hate it, I can guarantee it. So the next time you're unfortunate enough to see this face, you remember, I'm probably the only one in the room you'll be able to trust. Remember that, no matter what I'm saying or doing at the time because you're going to need a friend then."

Blair stared hard at the man, taking in his wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes. A small scar on the side of his chin drew his attention before he flicked his gaze back up to taking in the whole face, slightly relieved to find it ordinary. He half expected the twisted monster that had inhabited his dreams since Jim's disappearance to be staring back at him.

Dow shook the slight body in his grasp, trying to ignore the trembling and the pounding of the youth's heart under the fist wrapped tightly in Blair's jacket and shirt.

"Understand?" A final hard shake punctuated the question. Blair nodded and licked nervously at his lips, hands wrapped around Dow's fist to try and lessen the jarring of the overly enthusiastic rattling of his bones.

"Why? Why will I see you again? J-jim? Will one of you tell me what is going on here? I'm not trusting any guy who did this, no matter what you tell me, asshole."

Another explosion echoed in the background signaling the increasing nearness of Burke and his men. Dow grunted in frustration and pulled Blair up to his face, a cold, hard veil of determination in his hooded eyes.

"Okay, fine. I'll tell you what's going on here, kid."

"Leave him alone, Dow. Don't do it." Trepidation mixed with equal parts of anger and dread poured out. Jim was unused to the feeling of helplessness that suddenly bloomed in his chest.

"I'm doing you a favor here, Hero. It doesn't matter if he hates me afterward." Dow stared hard at Jim and willed the captive man to let him be the bad guy in this matter. In Dow's mind it was small payment for the last few days.

"Leave it! Please." Blair had never heard Jim plead before and it triggered a frantic response in him.

"What?" Blair squirmed and tugged fiercely at Dow's unrelenting hold.

"Not a chance. Maybe he'll wise up a little. You can thank me later." Turning back to focus on Blair, Dow let his expression soften a bit at the sight of tears of fright shining in the boy's eyes. Speaking rapidly in a low tone closely resembling a growl, Dow spit his next words into Blair's dazed, pale face.

"Here it is in a nutshell, kid. Michael Rosien is your grandfather. He's spent the last 23 years paying Naomi Sandburg to pretend to be your mother and to keep you out of sight and on the move so his business enemies and your real mother's family couldn't find you. After 23 years of silence, your grandfather, crime boss of Europe, wants to get involved. Actually, he wants you to want him involved. And Rosien has never let anyone or anything get in the way of something he wants. Take that as the warning it's intended to be, both of you. And remember, if you have the misfortune to see me again, you can trust me, understand kid?"

"Let him go, Ace. He hears you, I hear you. I'll make sure he understands." Jim growled the warning.

"Jim?" Confusion clouded Blair's stricken face. His words barely audible from the shock of the information Dow had heartlessly thrown in his lap.

"He's telling you he's not really what he looks like." Jim shifted his blind gaze and directed his words to the center of the slower of the other two heartbeats in the room. "How long have you been undercover?"

Dow flicked his guilty glance from wide startled eyes to gauze covered ones, pressing his lips into a thin hard line of regret.

"Nearly eight years, since my wife and daughter died. So don't do anything to make waves. I've invested a lot of what passes for my life in this. But believe me when I tell you to keep your guard up after this. Even higher than before."

Dow shoved Blair from him and pushed the ring of keys into Blair's unresisting hands. At the sound of another small explosion, Dow sprinted to the door. His heart cramped painfully in his chest at the sight of Blair fumbling open the handcuffs restraining the detective to the bed. Before Jim could even sit up the younger man had thrown himself at him and was busy trying to crawl inside Ellison's skin in an effort to get closer to the missing man. Murmured endearments and tearful choked words filled the air. With one last glimpse of a life he should have had the opportunity to experience himself, Dow raced from the lighthouse.

After a nerve-racking jog down a torturous, rocky path to a cave entrance hidden halfway below the level of the sea, Jason Dow re-emerged from the mouth of the cave dressed in full scuba gear. Quickly submerged in the freezing sea, Dow set off for the now forgotten second island to await pick-up from the man who had been following Blair on land. His last booby trap triggered as the pounding waves crashed over his disappearing body.

*********************

Jackson Burr nudged the lose pebbles of the narrow trail under his feet and searched for signs of more booby traps. He and his teammates had met with three explosions since they landed on the second island, each one slightly more destructive than the one before it; all well hidden and cleverly triggered. Their suspect was a known explosive expert but none of them ruled out the possibility of other forms of anti-personnel attacks.

Burr silently signaled to Burke and the two of them continued to inch their way up the path. Weston and James, one to either side of Burr and Burke, slowly canvassed the surrounding scrub brush with binoculars. Weston concentrated on the lighthouse while James scanned the surrounding open areas for movement. Both conveyed negative results with long familiar, silent hand signals.

Burr suddenly held up a hand and all three of his companions froze in place. "Got one more." Burr gently blew lose sand off the hard packed ground to reveal a nearly microscopic wire and pressure sensor under a small mound of pebbles.

Burke nodded and gave the hand command to fall back. All four men retreated several yards back the way they had come and took refuge behind a boulder.

Ethan James, tallest and strongest by far of the band of men, picked up a sizable rock and tossed it to his partner. Ray Weston, smallest and shortest but owner of the best pitching arm, grinned and hefted the stone. Satisfied with the balance and weight of his missile, he sighted his target and let loose, ducking back behind the protection of the large boulder at the last second. Activating the trigger sprayed the surrounding area with rubble and dirt for fifty feet in all directions. Dusting off their hair and faces, all four black ops agents resumed their slow advance to their lighthouse objective.

Twenty minutes later, they burst into the lighthouse from both windows and the door to discovery two bodies clasped tightly together on a rumpled bed in a corner of the main living space.

Burr had remained outside to secure the perimeter and the remaining men had entered the building, weapons drawn expecting at least a token confrontation. Instead they found their missing detective and their AWOL anthropologist.

Jim turned bleary, red-rimmed eyes on the bemused rescue squad and nodded a distracted hello. The blistered redness from three days ago had subsided to a raw field of healing skin thanks to Dow's daily first aide, but it was still startling to view. Gauze dressings and discarded handcuffs lay on the floor beside the bed in an undignified heap.

Arms clenched completely around Blair, Jim only tightened his embrace at Burke's gesture to relieve him of his burden so he could get up. Burke raised his eyebrows in question as mournful sobs were wrenched from deep within Blair's chest, strangled and choking their owner. Even buried in the folds of Jim's shirt and muffled by his body, the sound caused an almost tangible crush of pain in the room for the other men.

"The bastard told him about Rosien and Naomi. It might have been a little much with the stress of my being kidnapped."

The unexpected catch in Jim's voice prompted the big man to pull his son closer and lace a hand through Blair's hair to cradle his head deeper into the corner of Jim's neck.

"Maybe, just a little." Burke swallowed twice to lessen the sudden constriction of his own throat.

James and Weston exchanged glances and discretely slipped back out of the house to join Burr with the search for the suspect.

"What happened to your face? You okay?"

Jim snorted and glanced down at the bundle shivering in his arms. Massaging the scalp under his fingertips rhythmically, Jim allowed himself a tired half grin full of sarcasm and new worry.

"Not really, but yeah. I'm good, now that I know he's alive and well, but the coming days are going to be hell on everyone. I just want to get him home."

"What about your face?"

"Just an allergy. Don't worry about it. My vision is good enough to get me out of here. Know where a guy can catch a cab around these parts?"

Burke chuckled at the weak humor and helped pull the two bodies upright. When Jim grabbed his ribs and caught his breath while standing up, Burke firmly untangled Blair from Jim's bruised body and lifted the slight form to his chest. Burr magically appeared beside Jim and slipped an arm around his waist, surprised when the usually stoic man leaned his weight readily onto his shoulder. Slowly with Weston leading the way and James bringing up the rear, the bedraggled band made their way home.

*********************

"I still can't believe that the little shit was right about his being on the other island. He is really very bright, isn't he." Burke leaned against the balcony railing and peered through the glass doors into the living room.

Jim sat slouched in the corner of one couch sipping a beer with one hand and cradling Blair's sleeping head to his shoulder with the other. Every so often the hand would move from the disheveled locks of brown hair to rub small circles on the slender, blue pajama clad back and then return to the nest of curls. Ellison turned his head to murmur softly to his father and Burke watched as the elder man struggled to keep his face from splitting with a wide, satisfied grin. Whatever the younger man had suggested, the older one was very pleased.

Simon sipped his beer and joined Burke in his voyeurism.

"Frighteningly so, most of the time. He has a way of boring the socks of frogs most days and than, wham, he sees a piece of evidence or understands a clue nobody else even thought was a clue and you suddenly have a break in the case. He's brilliant, if you can stand being in his beam of light."

"How does Ellison do it everyday?" Burke's eyes glowed with genuine interest.

"Jim just adjusts his vision and basks in the glow." The double entendre didn't go unnoticed.

"Yeah, I can see that. They're good for each other. I actually envy Ellison. A year ago he didn't have a half a dozen friends to brag about. Now he's earned the unconditional, unshakable love of child any parent would be proud to have as their own and the respect and admiration of the people he works with and half the city. How do you think all this dredging up of the past will work out?"

"I don't know. Blair really loves Naomi, no matter what she's done in the past, he's forgiven her. But now, knowing she isn't even his mother, that she kidnapped him--I just don't know. He been so hungry for a family, so anxious for a stable life, the fact that she purposely kept that from him may shift the tables here. I can only hope it does. I guess only time will tell."

"He hasn't had an easy time of it lately. Neither of them has."

"No, no they haven't. They barely get a chance to cope with one crisis and another one pops up from nowhere to rattle their lives."

"Let's hope it's a long time between rattlers." Burke and Simon gravely clicked bottles and finished off their beers.

Both men watched as Ethan walked over and stood in front of Jim and gently raised a still sleeping Blair off of the detective's lap. James stepped back and Ellison's father and Ray helped Jim stand from the comfortable slouch of the deep cushions, careful not to aggravate the man's cracked ribs and healing wrists in the transfer.

It was obvious James was offering to carry his small burden to bed and both men were surprised when Jim nodded wearily, pointed to the stairs and agreed to follow, his own father trailing closely behind. The little procession disappeared up to Jim's bedroom. Simon and Burke reentered the loft just as Ethan, William and Jim reappeared downstairs.

Jim supported his side and cast an exhausted eye around his home, eyes lingering on the stairs to his own bedroom. Burke took his cue and began to gather together his gear, his men read the unspoken signal and began to do the same.

Jim stepped forward and locked steely gazed with Burke. After a fraction of a second he extended his hand and shook Burke's hand firmly.

"I want to thank you again for helping out my family. Blair shouldn't have involved you, but I'm still grateful you were there when he needed you."

"We're glad we could arrange a few days vacation and do some sight seeing in your fair city. It's not often we get to do the tourist bit and visit the landmarks like lighthouses and such. Very relaxing."

"Yeah, feel free to spend some more time off here when you get some. I mean that. Blair would love to see you sometime when his life isn't at stake. And so would I. You're all welcome in our home anytime. After all, I think Blair told me he had adopted 4 new really cool covert ops uncles awhile back anyway. I guess that must be you. Unless, of course, you know 4 other 'really cool covert ops guys' he's taken a shine to?"

"I guess maybe that would be us." Burke chuckled and shared a grin with his team. Turning serious once again, he studied the drawn lines around Ellison's eyes and mouth.

"If you two need something, information about this situation or a hand with protection or just someone to bounce an idea or problem off of, don't forget we're around. I'll make sure you get a number that you can use to contact us with. It'll be classified, so you know how to handle it after you get it. Don't hesitate to use it."

"Thanks, I won't. And I meant what I said, we appreciate your help, all of us do."

"Can't have the Cub thinking there aren't any heroes left in this world besides you. Your head can barely make it through doorways as it is." Burke grin softened the snub of his words, the playful tone edging the tension from Jim's response.

"That's how I lost most of my hair, rubs off on the woodwork trying to get through." Jim ran a hand over the short buzz cut and let a sparkle of humor light up his tired eyes.

"Well, gentlemen, I believe that is our signal to exit."

Good byes and warm handshakes were shared all around, eating up several more minutes of the rapidly disappearing evening. Finally, Simon closed the door on the last of the Rangers with a sigh of exhaustion. Catching the tail end of conversation, Simon smiled at the solicitous attitude of Jim's father as the older man insisted on helping Jim up the stairs and into his bed, clothing change and all. The lump under the covers in the middle of Jim's bed never stirred.

Simon shook his head at the wonder of the human psyche and mulled over the fact that extreme crisis and adversity either tore a family apart or brought them closer together. In this case it not only brought family closer together but it actually had begun to increase the number of family members in the fold.

The clan Ellison was steadily growing and he was proud to be a member of it.

With that thought firmly entrenched in his head, Simon settled down on the long sofa for a nap, knowing William had wanted to take the first watch over their wounded family.

****************

"Two months? Two months? Grounded for two whole months? That--that is so not right." Slouching back into the sofa cushions Blair looked up at the big man beside him and grimaced.

Jim slung his right arm around Blair's dejected shoulders and gave him a light hug of reassurance.

"I think it's pretty lenient myself, considering we're talking about a list of transgressions as long as my hand." Jim turned the hand on Blair's shoulder palm out near Blair's face and pretended to read the list of misdeeds from it.

Blair's injured yelp of indignation halted the pantomime.

"Transgressions? What transgressions? Okay, okay, so I did kind of leave the loft without telling anyone."

Blair avoided eye contact with his 'father' not completely sure how much Simon and the other men had filled Jim in on with regard to his latest activities.

"You ran away in the middle of the night with a man following you."

Okay, so he knew about some things.

"Yeah…well…I guess…"

"Then you ran away a second time and ended up in alley fighting for your virtue."

"My what? I so don't want to go there, Jim."

"Good, because you shouldn't have been there. Do you realize how ugly it could have gotten if Ethan hadn't shown up when he did?"

Okaaaay, he knew about a lot of things.

"Oh…ah…well…"

"Then as if twice wasn't bad enough, you took off a third time and managed to get your self captured and manhandled again. One wrong step and one of Dow's booby traps would have sprayed you little butt all over that island."

Shit! He probably knew about every thing.

"Um…ah…yeah…"

"You used to be more articulate than this, Chief."

Blair sighed and studied his shoes. "Ah, I would be now if I could think of something to say in my favor. Unfortunately, nothing is coming to mind."

"I'm glad you realize it." Jim pulled Blair closer to his side and pressed Blair's head down onto his shoulder, softly stroking the silky strands under his hand, calming and reassuring his nervous child with each tender pass.

Jim knew discipline should follow as closely on the heels of misdeeds as possible but the long list Blair had committed had forced Jim to become more creative with his punishments for the still distraught and clingy young man. Jim understood and recognized that Blair was far from being over the ordeal of the last few days while he had been missing. Some parts of it Blair might never fully recover from.

The isolation and sense of abandonment, even with Simon and his father here to soften the effects, were not enough for the young man who had been abandoned in one form or another all his life.

"Okay. Here's the plan. You're grounded for two months. In deference to the swearing and foul language Simon and Dad had to listen to every Saturday will be spent at one of their houses doing chores that involve soap, lots of soap."

Yep, he knew about everything.

"But-."

"Just be happy it's on your hands and not in your mouth, Junior."

"Ah, okay. I'm down with that."

"I thought you might be." Jim ruffled his hair hard enough for it to be called vigorous.

"Then there is the small matter of running away, times three, endangering you life each and every time I might add, putting your trust in a stranger, really Chief--Runner? You actually went out to an alley with that slime ball cretin?"

"I needed information to find you. Daniel said they couldn't help and Simon agreed. I was desperate, man. Come on."

"It wasn't going to do you or me any good if you were dead or in the hospital recovering from an assault, Chief. How would my dad or Simon feel if something happened to you because you managed to slip away from them?"

"Ah…well…there is that…I guess…"

"We're back to articulate again I see."

"Ah…yeah."

"Let's get back to the game plan. Grounded, soapy chores on Saturdays-- oh then, Sundays are spent in your room, no computer, no reading, no music, no nothing, just you and-- you."

"Ah, man. I'll go crazy, Jim."

"No you won't. You'll be glad to lay down and take some pressure of your aching butt every Sunday."

"Huh? My b-butt?"

"Aching butt. You want to make like David Janssen in 'The Fugitive', and run away every time a little thing like the law, in this case our house laws, gets in your way, I can be Barry Morse's Lieutenant Girad, and see to it that you get your just punishment every week. You endangered your life and broke at least five of the house rules, a couple of them two or three times apiece. That boils down to a spanking every Sunday morning and the rest of the day in your room for the duration of your grounding after a day full of chores on Saturday."

"That's--that’s eight weeks." Panic echoed in every syllable.

"You'd rather I dished them all out at one time?" Frank disbelief made Jim's eyebrows rise skyward.

"No." Shocked horror was reflected on Blair's pale, drawn face.

Blair bit his lip and risked a look up through his lashes to judge the extent of Jim's resolve. Dismayed by the steely look in the older man's eyes, Blair bristled at what he considered to be an unforgiving attitude.

"But eight." Outraged indignation were the only words to describe Blair's attitude.

"Yep. Want to go for more?" That fact that it was a closed subject with no chance at negotiations was clear.

Inflamed by the dictatorial decree, Blair's raw insecurities boiled to the surface. If Naomi could fake loving him all these years, why couldn't Jim manage it for one? Maybe all of Jim's professed affection and caring was just a game, someone else who just enjoyed holding power over his life and manipulating his actions just the way Naomi had done his whole life. The way she still tried to dominate and control him whenever she could.

Blair pulled out of Jim's embrace and slid a few inches down the cushions to put distance between the two of them. Yeah, distance between them would be a good idea.

"It's not fair. It's harsh and--and unforgiving and--and unnecessary. You keep forgetting I'm an adult. One who has been taking care of himself for a long time. I was a family of one most of that time and I did just fine."

"I understand you could see it that way right now, Chief, but you know this is how this family deals with disobedience and breaking of the house rules. They're for your own good, both emotionally and physically. You obviously need a reminder."

Feeling suddenly irrational and confused but unable to control the urge or the tremors beginning to rack his body, Blair forged ahead, unmindful of the impact of his words.

"I don't need your little reminders of how important you want me to think I am to you. I've made out just fine for over twenty years without a family so don't think you can just step into a slot in my life that's been empty for as long as I can remember and expect me to like it. Naomi forced herself into my life when I was too young to do anything about it but now I can. I don't need Naomi playing mother and I sure don't need you playacting at being my father. You're off the hook, Ellison. So you can stop pretending to care about me too."

"Watch it, Chief. Think about what you're saying."

The warning growl went unheeded as Blair wound up to his final scathing comment.

"Unless of course, you're hoping for someone to pay you for being saddled with the job, too."

Distressed and frightened, Blair literally trembled with the release of the bitter, hurtful words. Even as they passed his lips, he knew they were untrue and had been said only to wound and punish, but he couldn't help himself.

Springing off the couch, Blair managed to take one step before his wrist was caught in a firm grip and he found himself face down, staring at the rug and Jim's shoes. A strong arm pinned him to Jim's lap as his flailing legs were locked between two hard thighs. Back rigid with tension and panic, it was a relief when a warm, heavy hand started rubbing circles over it while Jim softly began to calmly talk.

"Okay. This isn't the best position I can think of to talk with you in, but it looks like the one that will have to do for the moment. At least until you calm down a little."

Blair suddenly held very still, afraid any movement on his part would prompt Jim to dump him on the floor and walk away. God knew he would understand if the big man did. Blair had certainly pushed him to the limits of his tolerance for unwanted, needy, annoying and rude pain in the ass grad students.

Biting his lower lip to keep from crying out an unwanted apology, Blair reeled slightly from dizziness and nausea, both due to his position and his overwhelming panic.

This was undoubtedly the end of the line for him with Jim. Just when he was hit with the fact that Naomi wasn't his mother, he alienates the most important person in his life, his best friend and his 'father'. What kind of family had no one? Was he even a son if he had no parents? Was his only choice going to be to seek out this grandfather he hadn't known he had? Was that all he was destined to be, the bastard grandson of a criminal?

A sharp and painful swat to his backside jarred thoughts of unwanted family members straight out of his mind. Several more heavy hits loosened his tongue and reanimated his limbs. By the tenth swat all thoughts of Naomi or Rosien fled in the face of Ellison family re-orientation.

"Ow! Aughh!"

"I guess talking is going to have to wait awhile, I see. That's okay, we have time, Chief. We have lots of time. You let me know when you're ready to have a civilized conversation, okay?"

Several long moments dragged by while Jim reintroduced Blair to his flip and hold technique. The loft was filled with the sounds of sharp cracks and muffled yelps as Blair buried his face in the cushions and gave free voice to his inner demons. He clutched Jim's knee tightly enough to leave bruises and kicked with both legs in a pointless effort to exhaust the pent up anxiety that had been building up inside of him.

Blair's throat was raw and his sinuses stuffed by the time he realized Jim had long since stopped the spanking and was once again drawing comforting circles over his heaving back and head. Pulling in a ragged breath, Blair turned his head from out of the pillows and managed to squeeze out one desperate word that was part hopeful statement and part despairing question.

"D-dad?"

Jim carefully turned Blair over, mindful of both their recent injuries and instantly pulled him into a crushing embrace that left their sore muscles and aching ribs calling out for attention.

"Always, Chief." Jim threaded both hands through Blair's hair and rocked the slight body back and forth in an effort to calm the constant shivers running through it. "Always and forever, by choice, not by accident or crime or even by birth. By spirit, by heart and by soul, my son, always."

The two of them stayed that way, arms around each other, faces pressed into soft beds of hair or unyielding muscles, each lost in their own thoughts and worries until one of the pair lost the battle with exhaustion and slipped bonelessly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Jim gently turned and deposited Blair on the couch, covering him with a soft afghan and planting a kiss against his overly chilled brow. Moving off into the kitchen, Jim quietly made several phone calls, ordering videos, take out dinners and company.

Ninety minutes and two aspirin later, Jim felt a satisfied smile settle onto his face as he popped a tape into the VCR from the stack of childhood classics he had delivered to the loft with dinner and looked around his home.

His father and Simon stood at the kitchen counter loading their plates with Chinese dishes of every description Jim could find to order off their favorite menu. Blair was plopped in the center of the couch, fighting with a carton of uncooperative lo mien noodles and squirming cautiously to keep his butt from remaining in the same position too long.

Jim grabbed the remote, picked up his plate from the coffee table and joined his son on the sofa. Ruffling Blair's hair more to annoy him than anything else, Jim bumped his shoulder solidly against Blair's and grinned down at the questioning eyes.

"So what are we going to watch?"

"A little movie I used to watch every year when it came on TV when I was a kid. You'll remember it when you see it."

"Maybe not, man. Naomi was never into the traditional kid stuff, not even movies. I never even saw 'Snow White' until two years ago when a girlfriend rented it to entertain her little sister while we made out on the couch. But I didn't get to see much of the movie." Blair grinned and waggled his eyebrows at Jim's smirk.

"Well, trust me, you're going to love this one."

"Will I know any of the actors?" Blair watched the screen as the tape started, clearly intrigued with what would be Jim's choice of a childhood memory.

"I doubt it, but maybe." Jim's response was distracted as he watched the tape and ate sesame chicken.

"Speaking of actors, you got it all wrong before. I don't know who Janssen and that other guy was, but 'The Fugitive' starred Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones."

"Not the original one, little boy. You're too young to know any better so I'll forgive you this time." Bored with the leading commercials, Jim fast-forwarded the tape until a black and white scene filled the screen.

"Hey, I kind of liked the idea of being Harrison Ford." Blair stared at the screen in surprise. "You got a black and white movie? You?"

"Just be quiet and watch, SpongeBob. It gets more colorful as it goes on."

After giving Jim a goofy grin of delight, Blair settled back to enjoy his food and his companion. The men from the other room quickly joined them and the three older men shared tidbits about their childhood that the movie pulled from their memories in between scenes.

Ten minutes later, Blair's head was nestled in Jim's lap and both were chuckling at the on screen action. Jim raised a hand and called for a general silencing of the room.

"Hey, hey, keep it down for a minute. This is my favorite part."

Blair twisted his head around to try and look up at Jim from a point of view that wasn't upside down.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Heck, no. I love this song. It always make me happy when I hear it. Close that yap of yours for a few minutes, Junior or I'll take your stuffing out."

One long fingered hand danced threateningly over Blair's ribs while the other one clamped over his laughing mouth. Blair gave into the unsubtle warning. Curious to understand why his father liked this song so much, Blair concentrated on the silly lyrics.

Ding, dong, the witch is dead.

Ding, dong, the wicked witch is dead.

Old witch, the wicked witch.

Ding, dong, the witch is dead.

Wake up sleepy head.

Rub your eyes.

Get out of bed.

Wake up, the wicked witch is dead.

She's gone were the goblins go-

Below-below-below, yo-ho.

Let's open up and sing

And ring the bells out.

Ding, dong, the merry-oh

Sing it high, sing it low,

Let them know

The wicked witch is dead.

Ghosting his fingertips absently over the bandage on Blair's forehead, Jim muttered a passionate and heartfelt, "I wish."

end