Warning: This story contains graphic material.

Inferno

Part III

Jim smiled warmly. "Feel good to be home, Chief?"

Blair walked stiffly through the loft door, limping slightly from the pain in his side. "No, I'd rather be back in the dungeon," he snapped, heading toward the couch.

Jim's smile melted, and he clenched his jaw. Blair's anger was sudden and unwarranted, and he didn't quite know how to deal with the young man. Sandburg had been through an extraordinarily traumatic experience, one that even someone with Jim's military experience would have a hard time dealing with. Sandburg, however, was a sensitive scholar with a kind heart and an empathic nature that left him vulnerable, in many ways, to the darker aspects of humanity.

Sandburg lowered himself to the couch. Jim tuned his ears into his partner's heartbeat, finding it a bit too fast. Blair reached forward carefully to grab the remote, and it was then that Jim noticed his partner's shaking hands. Taking a deep breath, he moved to the couch and sat next to Sandburg.

Blair looked at Jim, his eyes saying what his mouth obviously couldn't. Jim accepted the silent apology and leaned back.

"Are you hungry?"

Blair shook his head, gazing at the blank television screen.

Jim sighed. "Chief.... " Where should he start? What should he say? "Look at me."

After a slight delay, Blair turned his head and fixed solemn blue eyes on the detective.

"What can I do?" Jim resisted the urge to reach and place a hand on Blair's shoulder. He'd done that a lot over the past few days, and he wanted Sandburg to make the first move this time.

Blair looked away quickly, shaking his head.

"Come on, Chief. Let me help."

Blair shifted away from Jim's intense gaze, hiding his face and slumping his shoulders. "I can't do this right now," he whispered.

"Why? Because you're afraid of losing control? You're afraid of showing your emotions in front of me?" Jim took another deep breath. "You're safe here. You know that, don't you? It's okay to let your defenses down, lean on me for some help."

Blair inhaled a slow, ragged breath. "It's too much. I don't know how... I can't... think about it. Being here..." he raised his hands to indicate the loft, his voice trailing off.

"What? Being here makes you feel what?"

Blair began to shake, his breathing becoming fast and shallow. He was starting to hyperventilate.

"What, Chief?" Jim asked again.

"It's like a dream," Blair said softly.

"Tell me about it... please." 

"Being here... well... I just didn't think I'd see it again. I'm afraid..." once again, Blair's voice trailed off.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Please leave me alone, Jim."

"Not an option."

Blair stood up quickly, gasping with the pain it obviously caused. He gazed at his bedroom doors, seemingly unsure of himself. Finally, he walked over to them and disappeared into his room. Jim heard the lock engage, and he frowned. This wasn't the way he'd planned his partner's homecoming.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim stayed up most of the night listening to Blair move around in his room. He heard the rustling of covers, the soft scraping of pen against paper, and the clacking of keys on the laptop. Occasionally, Blair would make his way to the kitchen, boil some water, and make himself a cup of tea. Several times Jim was tempted to get out of bed and talk to Blair, tell him to get some sleep and take it easy. He decided, however, that it would probably be best to give his friend some privacy for the moment. He'd speak with the psychologist in a few hours, and then maybe he'd have a better idea about how to help Blair recover. He knew his roommate was going through Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, that much was obvious, and Jim had dealt with that particular condition enough times to prepare himself for what was to come. However, he'd always dealt with that in military situations, never on a personal basis... well, not counting his own experiences in Peru. Blair was different. He wasn't military. He was a guide, an anthropologist, and, by all rights, a shaman. Jim knew how to put a clamp on his emotions and block out unpleasant memories -- it was something he had become very good at doing, until Sandburg came along and gave him a taste of life again.

Finally, at about 5:00 am, Jim heard a muffled thunk, followed by soft snoring. He smiled. Finally. Blair had probably fallen asleep on top of his laptop. Jim pushed the covers away and slid out of bed. He walked down the stairs in his boxers and scanned the living room and kitchen, finding them both devoid of his guide. He shuffled over to the bedroom and, carefully, opened the door, trying to make as little noise as possible. Peeking his head inside, he spotted Blair hunched over a book on his desk, fast asleep.

He glanced at the bed. The covers were a bit rumpled, but it was obvious Blair hadn't slept in the bed. He debated carrying Sandburg to the bed, but didn't want to risk waking the young man. However, looking over at his roommate, he knew Blair would wake up with several unpleasant kinks in his neck and back if he remained in that position for any length of time.

He listened to his partner's heartbeat, trying to decide on the depth of Blair's slumber. He found the rhythm slow and steady, deciding that it would probably be safe to move the young man. He cocked his head and stretched his hearing even further, listening to the heartbeat. When he'd found Blair, that rhythm had been dangerously irregular, and he listened to it now, trying to find even the slightest hint of arrhythmia. To his relief, the beat sounded strong and regular. Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.

Some indeterminate amount of time later he snapped to awareness when he heard the soft mumbling of Sandburg's voice.

"Help..."

Blair was sitting straight in his chair, his eyes open.

"Chief? You okay?"

Blair raised his hands defensively and turned his head away. "No. Don't touch me! Get away!"

Jim glided over to Blair, grabbing the anthropologist's arms. "Hey, Chief, it's me. You're okay."

Blair's leg shot out, catching Jim in the groin, and he flung himself backward, toppling the chair. "NO!" He rolled to his feet and dashed past Jim, who lay doubled over on the floor, clutching the offended area.

"Goddamnit," Jim hissed through clenched teeth.

He heard the front door open and close, and his heart leapt to his throat. What the hell just happened? He pushed the pain aside and rose to his feet, careening toward the door in an awkward run. When he flung the living room door open, he saw Blair standing near the elevator, looking around with wide, fearful eyes, obviously disoriented. Jim noticed beads of sweat on Sandburg's forehead, and a few curls lay wet against his forehead.

Jim moved into the hallway, his hands slightly raised at his sides. "Hey, Chief," he said, his tone light and reassuring.

Blair looked at him curiously. "Jim?" He surveyed his surroundings uncertainly. "What happened? How did I get out here?"

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "You were sleep walking." He took a few steps closer to Blair, reaching his hand out in invitation. "Come on back inside, Chief."

Blair gazed down at Jim's open palm and, cautiously, reached out to take the hand in his own. He raised his gaze to meet Jim's. "Sleepwalking?"

Jim nodded.

"I've never done that before." An edge of fear colored his voice.

"It's okay," Jim guided Blair back into the loft. "It's just the stress." He locked the front door and settled Blair on the couch. "You want some tea?"

"No thanks."

"Do you remember the dream?"

Blair shrugged, leaning back to gaze up at the ceiling. "No, not really."

"Not really?"

Blair closed his eyes. "All I remember is Parker coming at me."

Jim figured as much. With a controlled sigh, he said, "Listen, Simon's made us both appointments with the department psychologist."

Blair lifted his head and fixed his blue eyes on Jim's. "Nice of him to ask me first."

"It's department policy."

"I'm not a cop, remember."

Jim shook his head. "You're a member of the department."

Blair swallowed and rose from the couch, heading back to his room. "I'm not ready." He didn't bother to look back as he closed the door behind him.

Jim rubbed his eyes with one hand. This was not going the way he'd hoped.

~~~~~~~~~

"So this is the first time you've seen him sleepwalk?" Doctor Judith Carrows asked, pushing her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose.

Jim nodded, resting both hands on the arms of the brown leather chair. "Yes. Even with all the other scares he's had, he's never done this before."

Doctor Carrows scribbled briefly on her notepad. "It sounds like a night terror, otherwise known as pavor nocturnus."

"Yes, I've heard of those."

"The normal sleep cycle involves distinct stages from light drowsiness to deep sleep. REM, rapid eye movement, sleep is a different type of sleep where the eyes move rapidly and vivid dreaming is most common. During a night, there will be several cycles of non-REM and REM sleep. Night terror occurs during Stage 3 and Stage 4 sleep, deep sleep. The cause is unknown, but night terrors are commonly associated with periods of emotional tension, stress, or
conflict," she explained. "Night terrors are most common in preadolescent boys, but they can also occur in adults, obviously. Sometimes they're genetic and give people life-long problems. Other times they happen once or twice in a person's life, and many times people don't remember them the next morning. Usually, there's not much cause for alarm. With everything Mr. Sandburg has experienced lately, this is to be expected. He may or may not have more. If he does, you'll find he might just go back to sleep. Other times he might be difficult to rouse fully. You can expect the feeling of terror to continue even after he's fully awake, and he may be difficult to comfort, especially since he's never experienced this type of sleep disorder before. Night terrors can be extremely vivid dreams, and it may be difficult for you to tell if he's fully awake when he's in the midst of one. If he does keep having them, you'll want to make sure his room is secure. I had a patient that fell out of a second story window during one of her night terrors."

Jim listened to her lecture calmly. He had expected Blair to have nightmares, but not to this extent. If he had to secure the room to prevent Blair from hurting himself, that would only serve to fuel the young man's guilt and anxiety. He wanted Blair to trust him, not to shut himself off thinking that Jim considered him a danger.

"What should I do if he has another one?"

"In many cases, comfort and reassurance are the only treatment required. Benzodiazepine medications used at bedtime will often reduce the incidence of night terrors; however, medication is not usually recommended to treat this disorder." She sighed. "Just keep an eye on him. When I see him tomorrow, I'll discuss this with him. He may view it as a sign of emotional weakness, especially in light of his recent trauma. You're going to have reassure him that his night terrors are a sleep disorder caused by the trauma, not an indication of weakness."

Jim nodded. "That's something else I wanted to speak with you about."

She looked at him expectantly, and Jim continued. "I told Sandburg about his appointment with you, but I'm not sure I'll be able to get him to come."

"I see." She pursed her lips and tapped her pen on the notepad. "When did you tell him this?"

"Last night after his night terror."

She nodded. "You have to understand that Blair probably wasn't in his most rational frame of mind at that point. Like I said, the feeling of terror associated with these dreams often stays with the person even when they become fully awake. When you mentioned his appointment with me, he probably transferred his fear to the idea of seeing a therapist, probably as a sign of further emotional weakness." She paused to take a breath. "Why don't you have another talk with him today? If he's still hostile to the idea, perhaps he'll agree to at least talk with me over the phone. I may be able to convince him to change his mind." She jotted something down on her notepad and then looked back up at Ellison. "He is aware that this is an order from Captain Banks, isn't he?"

Jim nodded. "He wasn't too thrilled with that either."

"Of course," she said. "He was at the mercy of another person for almost two days. Feeling in control is going to be very important to him now."

"Okay. I think I can help him with that."

She smiled reassuringly. "Good. He's going to need a lot of support from you... and that brings me to another topic."

He raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Yes?"

"You," she stated. "We've spent the past forty minutes talking about Blair, but I'd like to know how this is affecting you."

Jim sighed, reaching up to rub his face. He didn't particularly like opening his feelings up to strangers, even ones with degrees. He certainly couldn't explain the sentinel-guide aspect of his relationship with Blair and how the nature of that relationship led him to feel like he'd failed Blair. He was supposedly genetically predisposed to protect, according to both Blair and Incacha, but he seemed to be doing a lousy job of it lately.

Yep, it was going to be a long twenty minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jim returned home from Dr. Carrows' office at 11:30 am, he listened for Sandburg's heartbeat as he made his way to the kitchen. He found the familiar sound coming from the bedroom and walked over to the doors, knocking gently.

"Come in, Jim."

Jim smiled and opened the doors, finding Blair sitting lotus-style in the middle of his room. Jim surveyed the surroundings. The laptop, along with several books and papers, were strewn over Blair's desk. A pile of clothes littered the far corner, and his bed covers looked like a whirlwind had hit them. What he noticed, in particular, was the lack of aromatic candles and music, something Blair always used to accompany his meditation sessions.

"Hey partner, what's up?" Jim asked casually.

Blair gazed up at him calmly. "Just trying to clear my head."

"Where's that jungle music you usually listen to?"

"I needed some quiet."

Jim nodded as if in understanding. He decided to change the subject. "Wanna get some lunch?"

Blair shook his head.

"My treat."

"No thanks, Jim." Blair closed his eyes as if returning to his meditative state.

"Did you eat anything today?"

"No."

"How 'bout yesterday?" He already knew the answer to that question.

"No," Blair repeated flatly.

"I'd really like it if you'd come with me to lunch, Chief."

Blair opened his eyes and gazed at the detective. "Why?"

Jim sighed. He felt like he was talking to a stranger. Blair's eyes lacked their normal fire, and his voice sounded uncharacteristically apathetic. "I'm having some problems I'd like to talk to you about." 

A flicker of emotion touched Blair's face, and his eyes finally lit up. "Oh?" He rose to his feet. "Okay. Let me just put on some shoes."

Jim suppressed a smile. At least his guide was still in there, somewhere. All he had to do was hint at a problem with his sentinel abilities, and Blair would put the world on hold without a second thought. Unfortunately, Jim suddenly realized that now he'd actually have to come up with a problem.... which would probably lead to a barrage of tests. Oh hell, he thought, but then he realized he hadn't specifically mentioned a problem with his senses. He almost grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The waitress set the plates down in front of the two men. Blair looked down at his veggie pita sandwich as Jim poured ketchup over and around his fries. Blair took a sip of water, then looked up at Jim.

"So what's the problem?"

Jim popped a fry in his mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed. "Well, uh," he stammered, then grabbed his glass, taking a sip of the soda. Make it a long sip, Ellison, he told himself as his brain went into overdrive trying to think up a convincing problem that didn't involve his senses. He'd spent most of the drive over trying to come up with something, but for some reason, he was having a problem constructing a story.

"Well?" Blair prompted.

Jim set his glass down. "Promise you won't laugh."

Blair tilted his head. "You know me better than that. Come on, what is it?"

He took a deep breath. "Well, uh, it's with one of the guys at the station."

Blair raised his eyebrows. "Who?"

Jim shook his head. "I don't think I should say, just yet."

Blair shrugged and took a bite of his pita, waving Jim to continue.

"This... person... well, he's a pretty valuable commodity around the station. Simon's concerned about him and wants me to talk to him."

Blair's eyes flashed with suspicion.

Jim shrugged, continuing unfettered. "You know this isn't really my department, so I was wondering if you could talk to him, Chief."

Blair relaxed visibly, allowing a smile to touch his lips. "Sure, no problem. But you kinda have to tell me who he is first."

Jim nodded. "I will, but first let me tell you the problem, get your spin on it, and then you tell me if you think you can help him."

Blair nodded. "Okay. Go on."

Jim sighed, rubbing his palms together. He was giving new meaning to the term 'winging it'. "Okay, the problem is that this person's wife was attacked recently. He's been having a hard time dealing with it, and he's been pretty much of a mess around the station. He wants to get his wife into counseling. I'm not sure what's going on with that, but from what I hear, she refuses. Simon ordered him to see the department psychologist, and he did, but he's still feeling angry and guilty. I think he feels responsible for his wife's injuries... you know, being a cop and not being able to protect her."

"That's a normal reaction," Blair stated.

Jim nodded. "Yeah, but this is such a sensitive subject, I don't know what to say to the guy. I mean, he has to get his wife into counseling if both of them are going to start healing."

Blair raised his eyebrows, and fixed Jim with a stone glare. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," Jim confirmed. "You helped Joel out when he lost the nerve to do his job, and I thought you might have some words of advice here. I mean, maybe you could arrange to meet with the.... guy... and his wife."

Blair shrugged, his eyes narrow. "Maybe the woman has a right to a little privacy. Maybe all she needs is time... This isn't really any of my business."

Shit, Jim thought, he figured it out already. Not like I was all that subtle...

"I see. That doesn't sound like something you would have said a month ago."

Blair shrugged, pushing his plate, and the half-eaten pita on it, away from him. "A lot has happened since then."

Jim nodded, sighing. "Listen, Blair... okay, so I'm lousy at this. The truth is, the problem I'm having is with you."

Blair straightened, tense.

"You know I had the meeting with the psychologist today?"

Blair nodded.

"Well, she told me that what you experienced last night was a night terror."

"Last night?" Blair fixed bewildered eyes on his partner.

He doesn't remember? Jim took another deep breath. Okay, the doctor had warned him about this. "Last night, you had a nightmare. You ended up sleepwalking into the hall."

Jim heard Blair's heart rate spike, and the young man lowered his gaze. "I don't remember dreaming last night."

"I know," Jim said. "The doctor told me that people suffering from night terrors sometimes don't remember them the following morning. I'd thought you were awake when I guided you back into the loft, but I guess you weren't, at least not entirely."

"Oh." Blair kept his gaze on the plate in front of him.

"I think you should talk to Doctor Carrows tomorrow," Jim stated firmly.

Blair shrugged. "Fine. Whatever."

Jim released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you, Chief."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blair sat in the worn leather chair, gazing expectantly at Dr. Carrows as he tapped one foot nervously on the light blue carpet.

"So you don't think you had any dreams last night?"

Blair shook his head. "I asked Jim if he heard anything, and he said I was as quiet as a mouse."

Dr. Carrows shook her head. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

Blair shrugged, glancing at the mini tape recorder on the desk in front him. "Maybe a couple of hours."

She nodded. "What were you doing the rest of the time?"

"Reading, catching up on some work, surfing the 'net."

"Are you having difficulty sleeping?"

"Would you?" he asked sarcastically.

She smiled sympathetically. "Yes, I believe I would."

"Look," he rose from the chair. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think this is doing any good. I know you're only doing your job, Doctor, but this really isn't what I need right now."

She stared at him calmly. "What do you need right now?"

Well, you walked into that one, he told himself. She gestured for him to sit back in the chair, and reluctantly, he complied.

"You know, we've only got about fifteen more minutes left, and then you can go home and tell Jim you followed Banks' orders."

He forced a tiny smile. "Okay, I think I can stick it out for a few more minutes."

"Good. Now, do you want to tell me what you think you need right now?"

He rubbed the leather on the arm of the chair with his thumb, trying to feel the soft, worn lines in the material. "Time," he whispered.

"You have plenty of that," she said gently. "But what do you think will change between now and say, oh, three months from now?"

He shrugged, gazing at the arm of the chair as he continued to rub the leather absently. "I don't know. All I know is this whole thing is still too fresh in my mind. You weren't there. You didn't see those women."

"Do you want to tell me a bit about what happened to you there?"

He shook his head. "I can't really talk about."

"You can't? Or you don't want to?"

"Both," he snapped. "Why does everyone want me to talk about this? Sometimes it's better just to try and forget."

"You think you can do that?"

He bit his lower lip and shook his head solemnly. "No."

"Have you given a statement yet?"

Blair shook his head. "I'm supposed to do that tomorrow."

"Why don't you tell me what you intend to say in your statement? It may help you get through it tomorrow."

Blair sighed. "Okay." He inhaled a lung full of air and released it slowly. "I had just finished a class and was heading off to lunch with Brown. We were outside by the car, talking, and I heard a gunshot. The next thing I knew, Brown was on the ground. I ducked, grabbed my cell phone, and tried to dial the station while keeping some pressure on Brown's wound. Two students saw what happened and came up to us. I think I got a hold of Jim, but then I saw Parker coming toward me. He had a gun in his hand, and the two students took off. I dropped the cell phone to the ground, trying to hide it behind Brown so Parker wouldn't spot it. Then Parker grabbed me and forced me over to his black explorer. He opened the front passenger door, reached in, and pulled out a syringe. He stabbed it into the base of my neck, near my shoulder," he paused to take breath. "The next thing I remember, I woke up in the basement. There were three women with me...." his voice trailed off.

"Go on, please."

"And then it started."

"What started?"

He swallowed and lowered his head, his curls falling forward to hide his face. "The torture. The pain. The killing." His voice sounded low and dangerously unsteady.

"Can you tell me specifically what happened?"

"No."

"Why? What are you afraid of?"

His head shot up, and he fixed angry blue eyes on her. "I can't, okay? I'm not afraid--"

"You aren't?" She raised her eyebrows. "You're not afraid that maybe I'll think less of you once I know what happened. You're not afraid of losing control in front of me? Of crying? Of maybe getting so angry that you'll throw something? None of that frightens you?"

He swallowed. "Leave me alone. I don't want to talk about this. You can't force me to."

She shook her head. "No, I can't force you to talk about it if you don't want to, but believe it or not, it will help you deal with the trauma if you give voice to it. If you try to keep it all inside, bury it, you won't be dealing with the pain; and you can't start the healing process until you let the pain and fear surface. Your emotions need to run their cycle, they need to be released and dealt with in a safe environment."

"I know. I took a few psych classes, doc. I know the spiel."

"Then you know it's the truth."

"I know what's true for me, Doctor."

"Why are you angry?"

He bolted from the chair, his heart racing. "BECAUSE I WAS KIDNAPPED AND TORTURED BY A PSYCHO!" He winced at the intensity of his own rage, and lowered his voice a fraction. "Because I watched three women tortured and killed! Because I didn't DO ANYTHING!" He stood next to the chair, shaking, glaring furiously at the doctor.

Doctor Carrows kept her face calm, taking the brunt of Sandburg's anger with professional detachment. "What do you think you should have done?"

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing the small confines of the office. "I don't know. I should have tried something. When he uncuffed me, and... and... I should have tried. I should have fought, but I was so tired and weak... I was afraid he would kill her," his voice cracked with emotion. "But he did that anyway, and I just stood by and watched."

"How did he kill her?"

Blair spun around, toward the door. "I'm sorry. I've got to get out of here... time's almost up anyway." He flung the door open and ran out of the office.

Blair found himself running full speed down the long hallway of the office building. He rounded a corner, not sure where he was heading, but hoping to find a bathroom or staircase, or anything that he could hide in, alone. He released a surprised yelp when he ran into a brick wall -- or at least, that's what he thought it was until he looked up and saw Jim's anxious eyes staring down at him.

"Sandburg? What's wrong?" Jim reached out, putting one hand on Blair's good shoulder and the other hand on his arm, carefully avoiding the welt across the younger man's shoulder.

Blair pulled away from Ellison, walking backwards, shaking his head. "Nothing. I just... need some space right now."

He turned away and walked quickly in the opposite direction, suppressing the urge to run as fast as his legs could carry him. He almost jumped out of his skin when he felt Jim's hand on his left arm.

"Wait just a minute, Chief."

"Not now, Jim. Please." Blair shrugged out of Jim's grasp and continued his brisk walk down the hall, back toward the office. He hoped he could find a restroom at the other end of the corridor.

Kristy... The image of her burnt, gnarled corpse filled his mind. He heard her screams, smelled the burning flesh. God... His stomach revolted and, no longer able to wait, he sprang into a mad dash toward the end of the hall, desperately searching every door and sign for a bathroom. Finally, at the very end of the hall, he found a door with the word "MEN" printed on it.

He flew into the bathroom and fell into an open stall, slamming the door behind him as he spilled the contents of his meager breakfast into the toilet.

"Blair? You okay?" Jim's voice called.

Blair closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool porcelain. He reached out blindly, searching for the paper dispenser. His hand slammed into the roller and he yanked a handful of paper out, then wiped his mouth. He threw the toilet paper into the bowl, then reached up and hit the handle, pulling his head back when the toilet flushed, sending a tiny spray toward his face.

The stall door creaked open behind him, and he turned to see Jim peeking his head in, peering down. God, I must look pathetic. Blair turned his face away, burying his head in his arms as he leaned against the bowl.

"What happened?" Jim asked softly.

Blair felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched, immediately regretting the involuntary action. What must he think of me?

"Chief?"

"Go, Jim. Leave me alone, please."

"Come on, Chief, let me help." Jim sounded as close to pleading as he'd ever come.

"You can't. No one can," he muttered.

"I can try. You'd be there for me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You HAVE been there for me, Chief, too many times to count.

Blair's shoulders began to shake as he gave into the quiet sobs. Jim tightened his grip on Blair's shoulder, unsure whether he should pull Blair into an embrace. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. He'd seen the tape, and, without warning, the images crashed back into his consciousness, almost making him gasp with the suddenness of their brutality.

"It wasn't your fault, Blair."

"Yes it was," he gasped.

"He would have killed her, anyway, Chief. You know that."

Suddenly, Blair's tears stopped, and his head rose slowly. He gazed at Jim, almost in horror.

Damn. Jim swallowed, forcing himself to meet Blair's accusing stare.

"How... How do you know about that? Has Parker regained consciousness?"

Jim hesitated for a few seconds. Finally, he said, "There was a tape."

Blair's face lost all color. Shaking, he rose to his feet. Jim was blocking his exit path, so, keeping his gaze on the floor, he said, "Please, move."

Jim stood his ground. "Blair, listen to me--"

"Who saw it?"

"Simon and myself, and the D.A."

"You saw.... Kristy?"

Jim nodded. "Yes. There was nothing you could have done."

"Really?" Blair finally met Jim's gaze. "What would you have done? Would you have let Parker humiliate you and then set that woman on fire?" Blair shook his head. New tears threatened to spill onto his cheeks. "Something tells me you would have handled it differently. You would have fought Parker... and won."

"Blair, you give me too much credit. I'm only human, just like you." He grabbed Sandburg's shoulders, taking care to avoid the welt on the left one. "There was nothing you could have done. Nothing."

Blair looked away. "If you say so." Then, with a burst of anger, he pushed past Jim and walked stiffly out of the men's room.

Jim leaned heavily against the wall and released a long, tired sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jim flicked the volume down on the television and glanced at the clock. It was almost 4 a.m., and he hadn't seen his partner since that morning at Doctor Carrows' office. After Blair had stormed out of the bathroom, Jim let him go, opting to speak with Doctor Carrows. He had waited almost an hour while she finished with a client, then met with her for ten minutes, trying to find out what had set Blair off. She refused to tell him the details of the session, which hadn't surprised him. However, she did offer him advice: be patient with Sandburg, and don't take anything personally. Like he needed a degree to figure that out.

Now, however, he questioned the wisdom of letting Blair storm off on his own. Sandburg had been distraught and guilt-ridden. He didn't even have a ride, and Jim wasn't quite sure how much money the kid had in his wallet. The detective had called Blair's office at the university several times, but was greeted each time by a recorded message.

Jim was just about to call Simon and suggest putting an APB out on the kid when he heard footsteps in the hall. A few seconds later, keys jangled in the lock, and the door opened. Sandburg stepped in, glanced at Jim through the soft light from the television, and tossed his keys in the basket. He closed the door and headed straight for his room.

"Hold it," Jim said.

Blair froze halfway to his destination. "What is it?"

"Where were you?"

"Are you my father now?"

"Cut the crap, Sandburg. You had me worried."

"Well you can stop worrying. I'm fine. See." He took a few steps closer to his room.

"Stop goddamnit!"

Blair obeyed, his back facing Jim, rigid.

Jim rose from the couch but kept his position in the room. "You need help, Sandburg."

No response.

"Sooner or later, something's gotta give."

"I just need to be left alone for awhile. Is that too much to ask?" Blair remained perfectly still, his voice carefully guarded.

"Being left alone is the exact opposite of what you need. I know."

"You do, huh?"

"Yes, credit me with having gone through some serious trauma before."

Finally Blair turned to look at him. "I know you have," he said, his voice softer.

This time Jim took a few steps toward Blair. "So why won't you let me try to help?"

Blair sighed. "I'm really tired, Jim. I just wanna go to bed."

Jim studied his partner for several seconds, listening to the shallow breathing and accelerated heart rate. He also took in the puffy redness in Blair's eyes and the slumped shoulders. Finally, he nodded. "Okay, Chief. I'll see you tomorrow."

Blair offered Jim a small, tired smile in thanks and walked into his room, closing the door behind him.

~~~~~~

Jim bolted out of bed, the loud crash ringing in his ears. He grabbed his gun from the dresser and flew down the stairs, his gun poised defensively.

"NOOO!!!" Jim reeled from the ear-piercing scream and the ensuing sound of glass breaking. Quickly, he turned down the dials and ran toward the source of the commotion: Sandburg's room.

He skidded to a halt just inside the double doors, momentarily stunned by the sight that greeted him. Blair seemed trapped in the midst of a wild rampage, screaming at the top of his lungs as he grabbed random items from his room and hurled them against the wall. Quickly, Jim removed the clip from his gun and set both on the desktop. Blair's next victim was a about to be his laptop, and Jim quickly sprung into action, grabbing the machine from Blair's hand and tossing it on the bed.

"NOOO! GODDAMNIT!!" Blair swung a right hook, which Jim ducked easily, then he grabbed Blair in a bear hug and threw him to the ground.

"LEAVE ME ALONE YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!! NOOOO!"

"Sandburg!" Jim kept his partner locked in a crushing grip. "It's me. It's Jim. Wake up!"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU!"

Blair's furious rage suddenly collapsed into a fit of deep, gut-wrenching sobs, his screams mixed with fear and grief. "NO! NO! NO!"

Jim held Blair firmly, practically pinning the flailing young man to the floor with his body weight. He realized there was nothing he could say to break through Blair's hysteria, so he simply held him tight, letting Blair's rage exhaust itself while making sure his friend couldn't injure himself.

"Shhhh," Jim mumbled soothingly, not really aware of his own words. "It's okay. I've got you, buddy. You're safe. I'm right here."

After nearly ten minutes, Blair's screams quieted, his voice growing hoarse. A couple of minutes later, Sandburg lay limp in Jim's arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's all right, Blair. You can let go. I'm right here."

"I didn't want to do it," Blair cried. "He made me. I didn't want to..."

"Shhh... I know, Chief. I know. It's not your fault."

"He killed her. God, he killed her. I didn't do it, and he killed her!"

"You couldn't do it, Chief. He would have killed her anyway. You did the right thing."

"She was burning, screaming...."

"Shhh. It's okay," Jim reassured him.

"I could smell it, taste it...GOD!"

Jim clenched his eyes against the grotesque image. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'm sorry I let him get to you."

"I can't make it stop, Jim."

"Shhh... Don't try. Just let it out."

Several more deep sobs wracked Blair's body, overwriting his words. Finally, after several seconds, his breathing settled. "Help me."

"I'm trying, Chief. I'm trying."

"Please...."

"I'm right here," Jim said.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

~~~~

Later that morning, Jim rose from the couch just as the alarm on his watch sounded. He turned it off quickly and shuffled into the kitchen. He released a deep yawn, stretching his arms over his head to work out the kinks in his back. He grabbed the tea pot and glanced at Sandburg's room. Blair's night terror had been as intense as anything Jim could have expected. Blair had finally cried himself to sleep, and Jim had half-carried, half-dragged his partner to the bed. He wondered if Blair would remember the episode when he woke.

He filled the tea pot with water and placed it on the back burner, then he started the task of preparing eggs, bacon, and toast. With a glance at his watch, he realized he probably wouldn't have time for a shower. He and Sandburg were due to meet Simon at the station in an hour. That left him just enough time to prepare breakfast, wake Sandburg, scarf down the eggs, and get dressed. He might actually be able to fit in a five-minute shower, depending on Blair's mood and how long it took the man to complete his own shower.

He should have set the alarm for earlier, but he had been so tired last night. As it was, he'd only managed a total of about two hours worth of sleep since yesterday.

When the eggs looked close to being finished, he lowered the flame and walked into Blair's room. His partner slept on the bed, curled in a ball.

"Blair?"

The young man mumbled something incoherent and stirred.

"Come on, Sandburg, time to wake up."

"Huh?" Blair's eyes blinked open.

"We've got to get to the station, remember? Breakfast's almost ready."

Blair closed his eyes. "'Kay."

Jim walked over to the bed and knelt down, placing a hand on Blair's shoulder. He shook the young man gently. "Come on. Get your butt out of bed."

Blair opened his eyes and gazed at Jim, annoyed. "What time is it?"

"Seven-Thirty."

Blair pushed off the covers and sat up, running his hands through his hair. "I'm tired," he moaned.

Blair started to yawn, then stopped the gesture mid-way when he noticed the chaotic state of his room. He looked back at Jim, his brow crinkled in concern. After a second, his expression changed to one of realization, and his face colored. He dropped his head suddenly, avoiding Jim's gaze.

"You remember what happened?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded. "I'm really sorry, Jim."

The detective smiled. "It's okay, Blair." He sat down on the bed next to Sandburg. "It's more than okay. It's a good thing."

Blair raised his head, looking at the detective questioningly. "How's that? I trashed my room and woke you up."

"Do you remember what you said last night?"

Blair nodded. "Most of it, I think." He buried his face in his hands. "God, Kristy..."

Jim placed a hand on the back of Blair's neck. "Do you still think you're to blame for her death?"

In a move that both surprised and delighted Jim, Blair leaned against him.

"No," Blair mumbled. "I guess not." He kept his shoulders hunched and his hands over his face. "But maybe she would have died differently if I'd..." He trembled slightly.

"If you'd raped her? Did what Parker told you to?"

Blair lowered his hands to his legs and looked over at Jim. "I couldn't do that, Jim. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't fight him, and I couldn't save her."

Jim wrapped his arm around Blair. "I know, buddy. There are things out there beyond our control. I saw the tape, remember?" Blair stiffened. "I saw how it happened, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that there was nothing you could have done to save her life."

"It's hard for me, you know."

"I know," Jim said.

"No, I mean.... knowing that you and Simon saw the tape." He swallowed. "I don't think I can face Simon, Jim."

"Blair, you have nothing to be ashamed of. As a matter of fact, you have quite a lot to be proud of. I've seen seasoned military men crack under less stress than you endured. You kept your head, and you came out alive. You tried to help those women, and that's more than many people would have done in your shoes."

Blair shifted slowly away from Jim. "Thanks, but that video... well, it's not a way I'd like people to see me."

"I know, Blair." Jim gently pulled Blair back toward him, grateful that the young man didn't resist. "We've kept that video as confidential as possible. Only people who absolutely need to view it have access to it. I wish I could burn it, but--"

"It's evidence, I know; but, hell, he's stuck in a coma in some hospital, barely alive. I don't really see how this tape does any good."

Jim sighed. He'd pondered similar thoughts himself. Still, if anything, it let them know how those women died.

"I want to see it," Blair said, his eyes downcast.

Jim straightened. No way. "That's not a good idea." Weren't those the very words Simon had used on him?

Blair pulled away again. "You saw it. Simon saw it. The D.A. saw it. I think I have a right to see it."

"God, Chief, why would you want to?"

"I need to know exactly what is... and isn't... on that tape."

Jim clenched his jaw. "Can you give it a few days? Think about it? Talk to Doctor Carrows about it?"

Blair sighed, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Okay, but it won't change my mind."

"I'm not asking you to change your mind, just to take a few days and think about it." He patted Blair on the knee. "Now get dressed and come out for breakfast. I smell the eggs burning."

Blair glanced at Jim, the tell-tale signs of a smile on his lips. "Okay, Dad."

~~~~

"Just take it slow, Sandburg. If you need to take a break at any time, say so," Banks instructed the anthropologist.

Blair sat in the .aptain's office with Jim and the District Attorney, an older man with graying hair and stern features. Sandburg had the chair closest to the window, and he used that position to keep his eyes focused on the building across the street.

"Okay." He glanced only briefly back at Simon.

"What happened at the university?"

Blair told them everything he remembered, in as much detail as his mind could furnish. When he told them about the syringe, he glanced at Jim, trying to gauge the older man's expression. The detective sat with his jaw clenched, but his eyes conveyed sympathy and reassurance.

"Okay, so what do you remember after that?" the D.A. asked.

Blair swallowed, returning his gaze to the window. "I woke up and saw the three women. Only one was conscious, the one directly opposite of me. I asked what her name was, and she said, 'April Savino'. I told her who I was, and that I worked with the police as an observer. I told her everything would be okay, that... that the police would find us."

Blair took a deep breath, then continued. "He came in then. He said something about me shooting his brother, then he removed a... " he swallowed, "... a cattle prod from his briefcase." Blair felt his breathing start to become erratic, and concentrated his efforts on taking deep, regular breaths. "He asked me if I'd shot his brother in the shoulder, then he turned the thing on and pressed it against my shoulder." Blair felt a distant pain in his hands and looked down, noticing with some surprise that his hands were clenched into tight fists. His nails dug into his palms, almost hard enough to draw blood.

"How long did he keep the cattle prod on you?" the attorney asked.

"I don't know."

"Okay, then what happened?"

"Then he grabbed the torch and burned my side, where Parker had stabbed me," Blair answered. "I think I passed out at that point."

Blair related the rest of the story with eerie detachment, sitting like a statue in his chair as he gazed out the window. It wasn't until he came to the part about Kristy that his voice faltered.

"How did you know it was ether?" the D.A asked.

"From my undergrad bio lab. It could have been chloroform, I'm not sure. I only know that it reminded me of what the class used to put the mice out with. I always refused to participate in those experiments," Blair said.

"So then what?"

"I woke up on top of her," he replied, his voice low. "He... He told me to beat her up, and then..." He closed his eyes, grabbing the arms of his chair tightly, his knuckles white.

"Then?"

"He wanted me to rape her," he finished.

"Did you?"

Blair's eyes shot open and he fixed the attorney with an indignant glare. "No." Just as suddenly, his gaze flicked away. "I... I didn't want to hit her, but he had a gun... and a whip. At first he used the whip on me... hit my shoulder. Then he turned it on her. He struck her on the face with it. He said if I didn't hit her, he'd use the whip on her again."

"So you hit her?"

Blair nodded. "Yes." He pulled his gaze away from the window and buried his face in his hands. "Yes, I hit her."

"How hard?"

"Hard. He told me to."

"Then what?"

He raised his head, his eyes wet, and looked at the D.A. "You know what happened. You have the tape," he said, his voice tinged with anger.

"I'd like to hear it from you. What proceeded to happen after you hit her?"

Blair returned his gaze to the window. His entire body was tense, every muscle clenched tight as he struggled to retain control of his emotions. "He told me to rape her. I said I couldn't. He then told me to move away from her. I did. He then proceeded to set her body on fire." Blair felt himself shaking and hoped the other men in the room didn't notice.

"I think it's time for a break," Jim said.

Blair bit his lower lip. Leave it to Jim to notice.

"No." Blair shook his head. "I just want to get this over with."

Simon nodded. "Okay, Blair. Go on, please."

Blair told them the rest of the story, speaking so fast that he practically gasped for air every thirty seconds or so. When he finished the story, he remained perfectly still, eyes focused on some point outside. He didn't dare meet Jim's gaze, though he could feel the older man's eyes on him.

~~~~

An hour after the interview with the D.A., Blair sat at Jim's desk, filling out paperwork that had been neglected since the beginning of the Parker case. Jim had disappeared into Simon's office about ten minutes before, leaving Sandburg feeling awkwardly conspicuous in the bullpen. He swore he could feel eyes watching him. Once in awhile, he'd look up and catch a pair of eyes quickly glancing away. He decided not to look up anymore.

He didn't notice when a young woman approached the desk.

"Excuse me, are you Blair Sandburg?"

Blair looked up into a pair of large dark eyes on a face he thought he'd never see in person again. His gasped and flung himself out of the chair, backing against the wall. This can't be happening. I've lost it. God, I've finally lost it.

"Uh, I'm sorry," she stammered, taking a step back. "I'm --"

"Chief, what's going on here?"

Blair tore his eyes off the young woman and glanced at Jim. He then noticed that everyone in the bullpen was staring at him and the young lady. The woman turned to look at Jim, and the detective's mouth dropped open.

"Miss Connors?" Jim gazed at the woman skeptically.

The woman nodded, turning back to Blair. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Karen Connors, Kristy's sister."

Sister? Blair blinked and took a long, slow breath. His heart pounded so fiercely he thought it might leap out of his chest.

"You're her twin sister?" Blair asked, his voice unsteady. God, how many twins are there in Cascade?

Karen nodded. "Yes, I--"

Jim stepped forward. "When did you get in town? Your parents told us you were in California, attending Mills."

Karen glanced back at Jim and nodded. "I was. I got back yesterday." She turned her attention back to Blair, who hadn't moved from his position. "Mr. Sandburg, I just wanted to meet you. You were one of the last people to see my sister alive." She looked away momentarily, and, when she spoke again, her voice was rough. "That is, besides Parker."

Get a grip, Sandburg. Get a Grip... but, God, she looks just like her. How can I even look her in the eyes?

"Mr. Sandburg?"

Okay, he told himself, stop staring like an idiot and say something. "Uh... I'm very sorry about your sister." Good one. Real original.

She nodded, tears threatening her eyes. "I know you probably don't want to talk about this, and I'll understand if you want me to leave. I was just hoping you could tell me a few things about.... well, about how my sister died. The police just say she was burned to death, but they haven't given my family any details."

Blair swallowed. "I... uh... I really don't think you want to know the details."

"She was my sister... My twin sister, my best friend. I have to know what that... what Parker did to her."

Blair looked at Jim, then at Simon. Both men stared at him with dumb-founded, concerned expressions.

Finallly, Jim spoke. "Miss Connors, why don't we go somewhere a bit more private?"

She nodded. "Okay."

"How 'bout my office?" Simon suggested.

"Okay, Captain." Jim turned to Blair. "You wanna do this, Chief?"

Blair suddenly felt light-headed, but he managed to nod hesitantly. He didn't really want to do this, but he figured he owed it to both Kristy and Karen.

The four people made their way to Simon's office, aware of all the curious stares in their direction. Simon shut the door behind him and closed the blinds, sealing off the office from the prying eyes of the officers in the bullpen.

"Please take a seat, Miss Connors." Simon pointed to one of the chairs by his desk. "You too, Sandburg."

Karen and Blair both took their seats. Jim leaned against the table in the back.

Karen turned to Blair. "So?"

Blair closed his eyes. How many times would he have to tell this story? He practiced one of his calming exercises and, after a few seconds, opened his eyes to look at Karen. He didn't really know how to soften the brutality of the story, so he decided to get it over with as quickly as possible. She could slap him, hug him, or spit in his face afterwards. He didn't really care, he just wanted it over with. As he began the story, he mentally braced himself for the worst possible reaction he could expect from her when he finished. She could break down crying, screaming obscenities at him and wish him dead instead of her sister. He was pretty sure he could handle that. If not, at least Jim was there to pick up the pieces when he fell apart.

He flew through the story, avoiding her horror-stricken gaze. Finally, when he finished, Karen rose from her chair, staring silently down at him. He kept his body still and rigid, bracing himself for the accusations he knew she would spit at him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He looked up to see tears on her cheeks. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"It wasn't your fault, you know."

He had no answer for her.

"I know how painful this was for you. I'll leave now. Thank you again." Her voice quivered. "You've given me the truth. That's all I wanted."

She turned to leave, and Simon rose from his desk. "You have our sincerest condolences, Miss Connors."

Blair forced himself onto unsteady feet. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for your sister."

Karen turned to him, her bottom lip trembling. Finally, she flung herself into his arms. Blair nearly toppled backward but caught himself in time. Initially, he kept his arms awkwardly out at his sides, then, slowly, he raised them around her, holding her tight as she cried into his shoulder.

"Shhh," he whispered. He couldn't really say things were 'okay', so he didn't. He just held her, feeling his own tears hot against his cheeks.

After a few seconds, she pulled away, sniffling. "I'm sorry," she muttered, turning toward the door.

"Don't be," Blair said.

With her back to the three men, she nodded, then left the office. Blair gazed through the open doorway of the office, watching her retreating figure, his body numb. He didn't even feel the hand on his shoulder.

"You okay, Chief?"

Sure, he was okay. He was alive.... His knees buckled, and he suddenly found himself on the floor of Simon's office, cradled in Jim's arms, looking into a pair of anxious blue eyes.

~~~~~

Blair sat on the edge of the examination table, buttoning his shirt.

The young woman gazed at Sandburg disapprovingly. "Exhaustion and dehydration can become serious conditions faster than you think, Mr. Sandburg. I'm writing you a prescription for sleeping pills. I suggest you take one about an hour before bedtime if you think you might have trouble sleeping. I want you to drink three liters of liquid a day." She glanced at Jim, pointing her finger at the detective. "And I want you to make sure he starts eating properly."

Jim nodded humbly. "Yes, Doctor." He threw an irritated glare at Sandburg, who threw one right back.

"Can I go now?" Blair hopped off the table.

The doctor handed him the prescription form and gestured to the door. "Go ahead. Try not to pay us another visit anytime soon, Mr. Sandburg."

Blair grinned sheepishly. "Believe me, this isn't my idea of the Hilton."

The doctor simply raised her eyebrows and turned on her heels, making a show of leaving the room as she muttered, "...should start putting a bed on reserve for that kid..."

Jim couldn't help smiling at that comment. However, as soon as he turned to face Sandburg, the smile faded.

"Let's go, Chief."

"No argument here."

Blair followed Jim silently out of the hospital. When they reached the truck, Jim unlocked the passenger door and helped Blair into the seat.

Sandburg shrugged off Jim's aid. "I'm can manage, Jim. Thanks," he said, his voice terse, but his eyes betraying a hint of gratitude.

Jim shook his head and closed the door, walking around to the driver's seat. He hopped in and started the engine. "I'm taking you out for a late lunch."

Blair looked at Jim and opened his mouth to protest, then obviously thought better of it when he saw Jim's expression. He clamped his mouth shut and turned to look out the window.

"Okay, where are we going?" Blair asked.

Jim smiled, grateful that Sandburg hadn't given him a hard time. "You pick the place."

This time Blair smiled as he looked slyly over at the sentinel. "Really? Anywhere?"

"Within reason, of course."

Blair rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Okay, how 'bout Jupiters?"

Jim glanced worriedly over at Sandburg. "Not the place that actually has cow brains on the menu?"

Blair nodded. "You said anywhere."

Ellison sighed. "Fine, but if you order that, I'll make you wear it."

~~~~~~~

Jim tossed the keys in the basket and hung his coat on the rack as Blair made his way to the bedroom. "If I don't hear you sleeping soundly tonight, I'm picking up that prescription first thing in the morning."

Blair glanced back at Jim as he opened the doors to his bedroom. "I'll sleep... and I already told you, I'm not taking any sleeping pills." He walked into his room and stopped dead center, looking around in amazement.

Jim found himself grinning broadly as he watched his partner survey the handiwork.

"What...? How...?" Blair turned to Jim, his jaw hanging open in awe.

"Simon and Brown stopped by and cleaned it up. They replaced what they could."

Blair pointed in the direction of his desk. "The chair? My desk organizer?" He spun on his heels, gesturing toward the bed. "My alarm clock?" He glanced back at Jim disbelievingly, a silly smile plastered on his face. "Simon and Brown did this?"

Jim nodded, feeling a little like a father on Christmas watching his son open presents. Okay, so Blair wasn't exactly a kid, and Jim definitely wasn't old enough to be his father... but damned if Blair didn't have that child-like glint in his eyes that made Jim feel a hundred years old sometimes.

"They snuck over while we were at the hospital. Brown and Simon figured you and I would probably both be too tired to deal with it."

Suddenly Blair's smile faltered. "You told them what happened?"

Jim raised his hands, his own smile fading. "Look, they were concerned about you. I mentioned that you were exhausted... hadn't gotten much sleep. I told them you had a nightmare last night and trashed your room. That's all."

"That's just about everything."

Jim shook his head. "I'm sorry if I did something I shouldn't have. They're your friends, and they were concerned about you. I didn't tell them anything that was said. Hell, Simon and Brown have both had their own nightmares, you know. They've worked some pretty bad cases over the years. It's nothing they didn't figure out themselves just by looking at you. God, Sandburg, you look like you hell. Check a mirror sometime."

Blair lowered his head, his smile returning. Jim found himself breathing a sigh of relief.

"It's okay, Jim. Remind me to thank them when I see them."

~~~~~

One week later...

"You sure you want to do this, Chief? I still think it's a bad idea."

"I lived it. I think I can watch it on television," Blair responded.

"Sandburg, this really isn't necessary," Simon added. "Listen to Jim for once... "

Blair raised his hands. "Are you going to sit here lecturing me, or can I get the tape? It's five hours long, and I would like to get out of here at a reasonable hour."

"Watch the attitude, Sandburg," Simon cautioned. "I know how hard this is on you, and that's why I'm asking you not to do this. For crying out loud, you haven't even popped the thing in the VCR yet and you're already on edge."

Blair released a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Of course I'm on edge! Jesus, you people seem to think I should just get over it like that." He snapped his fingers for emphasis. "Maybe you and Jim could, but I guess I'm not quite that strong. I don't just chuck my humanity out with the garbage and go on with life. I need to see this tape. I need to know what's on it, and if it happened the way I remember it." He glanced back and forth between Simon and Jim. The captain looked ready to revoke Blair's credentials on the spot. Jim, on the hand, looked exasperated and, perhaps, a bit embarrassed. Oh just great, Jim, Blair thought. So now you're ashamed of me. Pardon me for being human.

Simon sighed and rose from his desk. "Listen, Sandburg, Jim and I could barely stomach that tape--"

"And that's something else! You think I like knowing the whole fucking world got front row seats to my humiliation? Where the hell do you get off, anyway? You think it's bad enough that he kidnapped me and tortured me, took away almost every shred of dignity I had? But no, that's not even the half of it. Now he's managed to take away that little strand of dignity I managed to hold onto! I mean, it's okay to break down, crying and screaming, when you know everyone who ever witnessed it died and, maybe, just maybe, you can forget that you quivered like a coward begging some mad man to stop; but no, then you find out that mad man made a fucking tape and sent it out like a goddamn trophy so every one you live and work with could see you at your oh-so finest hour! Screw that. And now you don't want me to watch it? Fuck you! I HAVE MORE GODDAMNED RIGHT TO WATCH IT THAN EITHER OF YOU!" He turned to Jim. "And I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Jim.... really, I mean, pardon my little temper tantrum here. It's not proper military decorum, I'm sure."

He spun on his heels and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him and leaving two stunned and bewildered men in his wake. His little spectacle hadn't gone unnoticed by the other officers in Major Crimes, and every person he passed suddenly became thoroughly engrossed in some trivial task.

~~~~~~

Jim actually flinched when the door slammed shut. Thankfully, he'd dialed down his hearing when Sandburg's tirade first started, so the loud bang didn't slam into his skull like a sledgehammer.

"What the hell just happened?" Simon looked at Jim, chewing on the end of his cigar. "I've never heard Sandburg curse like that before, much less throw a tantrum."

Jim rubbed his temple. "He's still not sleeping very well, sir. I can't get him to take the pills the doctor prescribed, and he's only keeping his appointments with the counselor because you ordered him to. At this point, I'm just happy I can get him to eat and drink."

Simon pulled his glasses off and tossed them on the desk. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Jim, I know the kid's been through hell lately, and I don't want to do this, but--"

"Don't revoke his credentials, Captain," Jim pleaded. "He's already feeling humiliated just knowing you and I saw that tape. If you take away his credentials, it'll make him think you don't trust him... don't respect him. He'll probably think it has to do with the what you saw on the tape."

Simon sat on the edge of his desk, looking very much like a man who'd just run over a deer after taking his kid to see Bambi. "Sandburg's gotta know I respect him by now, Jim; but, I can't let him go in the field like this. Right now, all he's qualified to do is your paperwork."

"Then that's what he'll do. I haven't been taking him into the field anyway. He's been too busy catching up with university work to make much of an issue out it."

Simon grunted. "That won't last for long."

The detective nodded, cocking his head slightly. "Can we talk about this later, sir, if you don't mind? Right now, I think I'd better track down Sandburg."

Simon nodded, waving him off. "Go on. Find him."

"Thank you, sir," Jim said as he left the office.

Jim tracked his partner's heartbeat to the stairwell. He opened the doors and trotted down five flights of stairs before spotting Sandburg's hunched figure sitting on the steps, his head hanging forward with his hands clasped around the back of his neck.

Jim walked up behind Blair, not really sure what to say. Part of him wanted to shake the young man and scream some sense into hi