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  "No, Jim. You're not."

  Jim looked across at Blair. His face was set with anger, his expression challenging, unyielding. Jim's own anger welled to the surface. "Look, I'm trying to apologize here and you're not making it easy for me."

  "And we can't have that, can we?" Blair shot back.

  "What's with you, Sandburg? I come all the way over here, bring you food. I'm trying to fix this and all I'm getting is attitude."

  "You're right, Jim." Blair held his hands out in a placating gesture. "Actually, I should count myself lucky you even noticed I was angry."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Forget it," Blair muttered. "Let's just eat." He held out a hand, wanting his sandwich.

  Jim's grip tightened around the bags. "No, I don't want to forget it. I want to know what you meant by that."

  Blair dropped his hand on the desk top. He hesitated and Jim knew he was trying to decide if he really wanted to get into this now or not. When he finally spoke, there was a note of sadness in his voice that hadn't been there before. "Jim, I think half the time you don't even listen to what I tell you."

  "That's not true," Jim said before he even realized he was going to speak. Because it wasn't true and Sandburg damn well knew it. "I listen to you all the time. Whenever you make a suggestion about my senses, I do it. I may argue but I do it. And I value your input on my cases, you know that."

  Blair nodded. "That's true. You listen when it has to do with you. But when it's about me…" He shook his head, again that sadness tinged his words. "Then it's just not that important."

  "Sandburg, you can't seriously believe that."

  But the hard look on Blair's face told Jim that that was exactly what he believed. "Jim, when I was trying to find out about Brad Ventriss, you barely listened," he stated flatly. "I tell you Ventriss raped a student of mine and made threats to me but you just blew me off. Don't get me wrong. I understood at the station why you acted that way. Sure, I wanted more support than I got but you were in your cop mode -- 'gotta do it all by the book'. You weren't Jim, my friend. You were Jim, the detective. That was fine.

  "But later on, when those guys came after me in that alley, you should have known it was connected to Ventriss based on what I had told you. You didn't. Instead, you made some stupid joke about cooling off my love life. Like it was some jealous boyfriend who'd come after me. I realized right there that you hadn't listened to what I'd told you before." He leaned back in his chair, his mouth set in a grim line. "You didn't listen because it didn't involve you. It involved me so how important could it be?"

  Jim blinked several times, too stunned to speak at first. "I didn't know you thought that," he said when he was finally able to find his voice again. "I'm sorry."

  "You know, Jim, if I have to point it out to you, the apology pretty much negates itself. But the sad thing is that those are usually the only apologies I get from you or thank yous or any other kind of acknowledgment for that matter. I have to demand them or they just aren't there."

  "What about during the Archer case? I apologized to you then. I told you you were right about Veronica and I was wrong. You didn't ask me then."

  Blair smiled but it looked more like a grimace to Jim. "Yeah and I noticed how you looked around first. Made sure no one was in earshot because God forbid anyone should hear you apologizing to me."

  Jim stared at his Guide. At the angry set of his mouth. His hands, which were fisted on the desk top. Nothing he'd said had moved Blair closer to forgiving him. On the contrary, his words seemed to be putting even more distance between them. "I don't know what to say, Chief. I want to make this right. I just--"

  A knock sounded at the door, interrupting Jim. He looked over his shoulder as the door opened. A young woman looked inside, her gaze shifting uncomfortably from Blair to Jim and back again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sandburg. I know it's not your regular office hours but I really need to talk to you." Her gaze fell on Jim again. "I can come back if this is inconvenient."

  "No, Laura. Stay." Blair looked at Jim. "Would you mind?"

  Jim hesitated. He didn't want to drop this, knew that they needed to settle things. But he also knew this was not the place to discuss all that was wrong between them. He stood and set the deli bag on the desk. "We can finish this discussion tonight."

  Blair nodded curtly and Jim left.

  Simon sat in his office staring out his door at his best detective. Jim Ellison stared off into space, his expression lost. For a moment, Simon worried that he had zoned. But then Jim sighed, rubbed his forehead and shifted his attention to the papers on his desk. But Simon was sure he was not seeing the writing before him. Standing, Simon crossed to Jim. "What's going on with you?"

  Jim looked up. "Nothing, Sir. I'm just trying to finish this report."

  Simon crossed his arms, glaring down at him. "Is that why you've been staring out into space the last half hour? Come on, Jim. What's the problem?"

  He shook his head in exasperation. "Same problem as always -- Sandburg. We're just not...communicating well lately."

  "Communicating?" His brow furrowed. "I'll admit he's been quiet but things between you two seem okay. I'm sure it'll take a while before everything is worked out completely but you're making good headway, right?"

  "I guess," he muttered.

  "What do you mean you guess? When you talked about Alex and what happened, how did that go?"

  Jim dropped his gaze to the desk top. His hands moved over the file in front of him. He cleared his throat. "We, ah, we never talked about Alex."

  "You never talked?" The words came out louder than Simon anticipated and several heads turned in their direction. Lowering his voice, he said, "In my office. Now."

  Simon slammed the door shut as soon as Jim had cleared it. He spun toward the Sentinel, working hard to keep from shouting. "I sat there listening to Blair defending your honesty and integrity during the Archer case, never once doubting you, and the whole time I kept thinking that that must have been one hell of a talk they had for Blair to feel this way after all that happened. Now I find out..." He shook his head in disgust. "That kid should have left as soon as you got back from Mexico. He's too damn loyal for his own good."

  "I just wanted to put it all behind us," Jim said in his own defense. "I wanted to forget it ever happened."

  "That's easy for you, Jim. You aren't the one who died." Jim ran a hand over his eyes. "Simon, I--"

  "Did he ever tell you what Alex did to him that day at the fountain? Did you ever ask? Read his statement?"

  "I couldn't," Jim admitted softly.

  Simon crossed to his desk and pulled out the file containing Blair's statement. He wasn't sure why he'd kept it. But somehow, sending it down to records to be filed away and forgotten seemed disrespectful of Blair. So instead it sat in his desk. "She pulled a gun on him in his office and told him she couldn't leave him alive. Then she forced him outside, made him stand on the edge of that damn fountain and hit him from behind."

  Jim turned toward the door, looking for an exit. "Simon, I can't—"

  "You're going to listen, goddammit!" He grabbed Jim's arm making it impossible for him to flee the office. "The blow didn't knock him out. But when he hit the water, he stayed down, pretending he was more hurt than he actually was. He was hoping she'd walk away and leave him there. He held his breath as long as he could. When he finally lifted his head to take a breath, he felt this weight press down on him. She had climbed into that fountain and straddled him."

  Jim stared at the floor, his brow wrinkled as if in pain. His arm shook where Simon still held him.

  "She got on his back, legs on either side and pressed him beneath the surface of the water. Then she put her hands on the back of his head and forced him down. She used her bare hands to drown him." Simon shoved the report into Jim's hands. "So as much as you may want to forget it, I think Blair would have one hell of a time doing that."

  Jim stared down at the folder he held, his hand trembling. He clo
sed his eyes.

  "This explains why he's been so quiet." Simon dropped into his chair. Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes. The whole situation angered him, drained him. He could not imagine what Blair had been going through these last few weeks. How uncertain and frustrated he must be feeling. Simon put his glasses back on and turned a hard glare on Jim. "I thought Blair was just processing everything that's happened to him since Alex came to town. But that's not it. It's you and you better fix it and I mean now."

  Blair's gaze shifted to the clock on the wall. Five p.m. Time to go home. It was his turn to make dinner but he didn't feel like it. Maybe he'd just pick something up on the way to the loft. He sighed. Another tense night at home, he thought grimly. Another night of uncomfortable silence. Because as much as Jim had said they would talk tonight, he knew they wouldn't. At least not about what had happened earlier today. Instead, they would talk about the Jags or some case or even the weather. But it would never go deeper than that and that was what was keeping Blair at Rainier. Because no matter how much he wanted to believe things were okay, he knew…

  "It's just not the same," he muttered.

  It hadn't been the same for him since Alex. He hated to admit it even to himself but it was true. He had tried so hard to get past it. But each time he looked at Jim, all he could see was the sentinel kissing Alex, yelling a warning to her, comforting her in that damn temple while he was left kneeling with his hands bound behind his back.

  You couldn't just cut me loose, Jim. You couldn't even show me that much respect. That much concern.

  He rubbed his wrists as if still feeling the coarse rope there.

  Why am I thinking about this now? Pushing up from his desk, he stuffed some papers in his backpack and left his office. His footsteps echoed hollowly through the empty hall as he made his way toward the exit.

  Jim steered his truck toward the loft. Simon was right. He needed to talk to Blair. Tonight. Things were snowballing out of control and he had to get a handle on it before it went too far.

  He should have told Blair the truth about his attack in that alley. It was the damn baseball bat. Seeing that man going after his Guide with that bat.... His blood had frozen in his veins at the sight. He'd made a joke when he'd helped Blair that day just like he'd made a joke in the hospital after he...after the fountain. Because anything else was just too hard to deal with. Jim didn't like to think about the fact that his best friend could die. That someone could come along who, in an instant of time, could take Blair's life...and Jim might not be there to stop it. A cold chill slid down his spine and settled in the pit of his stomach as the image of his partner floating face down in the water at Rainier skidded through his mind. How can I talk to him about this when I can't even think about it without feeling ill?

  But he had no choice. Because his continued silence was being taken by Blair as not caring and nothing could be further from the truth.

  In a flash, Blair's words from the chapel in Mexico came painfully back to him. "She already tried to kill me. Well, actually, she did kill me, I guess." Blair's voice had been soft, afraid. He wanted to tell me about it then. Needed to tell me what Alex had done to him. But Jim couldn't hear it then. Because he couldn't help the feelings he was experiencing for Alex. Couldn't stop himself from wanting her more than wanting to help Blair. Shame washed through him at the memory.

  He had thought about that trip to Mexico so often. Had looked at his actions and tried to figure out if somehow he could have done something to change what had happened. Change how he had reacted to Alex. Because he hadn't been able control himself. Hadn't been able to think about anything or anyone but Alex. And he knew that had hurt Blair. Was still hurting him.

  If you knew it hurt him, why didn't you talk to him about it? His grip tightened around the wheel as guilt settled over him. Because he should have talked to Blair. Should have said something instead of ignoring his partner's obvious distress and hoping it would just go away on its own.

  "That kid should have left as soon as you got back from Mexico. He's too damn loyal for his own good."

  Simon's words came back to Jim and he couldn't deny the truth behind them.

  Jim pulled up in front of the loft and cut the engine. His brow furrowed as he realized that Blair's car was no where in sight. He had assumed his partner would be home by now. It was after six and his school hours ended today at five.

  Maybe he's picking up dinner.

  He pushed out of the truck and headed inside. Opening the door to the loft, Jim could smell Blair's shampoo in the air, as if he'd been there just a few minutes before. He caught sight of the note on the table a moment later. He crossed to it.

  Jim,

  Naomi called. She's staying in Seattle for the weekend and asked if I could join her. I haven't seen her in a while and she was pretty insistent. Sorry about dinner.

  Blair

  Jim frowned. There was no phone number. No mention of where he was staying. When he'd be back.

  Maybe he's not coming back.

  The words whispered through Jim's mind, unwanted. No, Sandburg wouldn't just take off. His gaze swept the loft. Besides, his stuff is still here. He can send for his stuff, that same voice said again.

  Jim chewed on his lip, uncertainty twisting through him. Something caught his eye and he shifted his gaze left. The light blinked on the answering machine on the counter, signaling him to a message. He pressed the button, playing back the recording.

  "Hi Blair. I was hoping I'd catch you at home." Naomi's voice spilled out. "I just wanted you to know—"

  "Hey, mom, I just walked in." Blair's voice joined hers. "What's up?"

  Jim's finger hovered over the button. Obviously Blair hadn't realized his conversation had been recorded and left behind. Or maybe he had. Maybe he wanted Jim to hear this. He licked his lips and dropped his hand back to his side, letting the recording play out.

  "I'm house-sitting at Phil Timmermon's place in Seattle," Naomi continued. "You remember it? Right on the ocean. Just beautiful. I thought when I'm done, I could come for a visit. I'm so close."

  There was a slight pause and then Blair said, "Do you think I could come see you? Maybe spend the weekend there?"

  Jim glanced down at the note he still held. Blair had lied. Naomi hadn't asked him to come. He had asked her if he could.

  "I'd love for you to come, sweetie," Naomi said. "But is there something wrong? You don't sound like yourself."

  "I'm fine. I just…I need to get away."

  "You don't have anything going on with Jim? No cases you're working on?"

  Another pause, then quietly, //"Jim won't care."

  The three words sliced through Jim. It wasn't what he said exactly that bothered him. It was the way his voice sounded. As if Jim didn't care about anything he did. Had never cared.

  He glanced at the machine again. The message had finished and was rewinding. Jim played it back again, jotting down the name Naomi mentioned. Shouldn't be too hard to track down.

  Naomi Sandburg watched her son. Blair stood at the window, silent, contemplative, staring out at the rolling ocean waves beyond the glass. And it bothered her. He wore his hair pulled back in an almost severe ponytail, his earrings were missing. But it wasn't his appearance that was bothering her. It was his attitude. He had yet to smile or laugh. His normal enthusiasm was gone. Instead, he seemed…depressed.

  She walked up behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. He tensed under her grip. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

  "Nothing. I'm fine." He offered up a smile but it was a weak imitation of what usually passed for a smile from Blair. There was no life behind it. No joy.

  "You've barely said two words since you got here. You seem so serious." She pulled his ponytail playfully.

  "Maybe I'm just trying to grow up a little," he said softly. "Become more responsible."

  "More responsible?" Her brow furrowed. Was he serious? "Blair, you're one of the most responsible people I know. You put yourself
through school, still take classes, teach classes and work with Jim. What part of that makes you irresponsible?"

  He rubbed his forehead, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Okay then more mature."

  "I never thought you were immature. Sure you have an enthusiasm for life but I've always loved that about you. I love your natural curiosity, your energy, your drive. But it's like all that is gone now. That's not maturing, Blair. What's really going on?"

  He closed his eyes but said nothing.

  "You haven't mentioned Jim at all," she said when he remained silent. "That's not like you either. Is something wrong there?"

  "We've had some problems," he admitted after a time. When he opened his eyes again, she nearly flinched at the pain reflected in them.

  "What problems?" she asked.

  Blair's eyes searched hers. There was a seriousness in his expression that she had never seen before. "Something happend to me, mom. Something that I hoped you'd never have to find out about."

  "Now you're scaring me. What?"

  He licked his lips, his eyes locked with hers. "I drowned a few weeks back and—"

  "What do you mean you drowned?" she cut in, her heart pounding heavily in her chest. "You mean you almost drowned, don't you? I mean, Blair, there's a big difference between those two things and--"

  "No, mom. I drowned. I was pronounced dead on the scene and--"

  But the rest of her son's words were lost to her. The room spun. The breath left her lungs. She would have collapsed except for the strong hand on her arm supporting her. She looked into her son's worried face. He was saying something but the words did not register. "Oh Blair." She pulled him against her, holding him tightly. She ran her hands over his hair, his back, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, his breath on her neck, reassuring herself through touch that he really was alive, safe.

  Blair hesitated briefly before returning the fierce hug. He laid his head against her shoulder, hiding his face from her. She realized a moment later that he was crying.

  She released him and cupped his chin in her hands, staring into his moist eyes. "Baby, what's wrong?"