Blair left the Dean's office feeling weary, but elated. After a discussion with the head of the anthropological department, the Dean had agreed to allow Blair to return to teach two classes per week. Both were morning introductory classes, which suited him, as he was more rested and alert then, and it still gave him time for his gym workout and a rest in the afternoon. Both of those were things that Blair knew Jim would not barter over.

Feeling more confident than he had in months, he decided to approach Simon about returning to work with Jim at the station on a part-time basis. He debated whether to catch a bus to the precinct and surprise Jim, then decided against it. The last thing he needed now was Jim in Blessed Protector mode.

He suspected his partner was not going to be overly impressed that Blair hadn't told him the reason for going to the university. Blair eased his conscience with the thought that he hadn't lied, nor even obfuscated. He had merely withheld certain details and Jim hadn't asked him to elaborate.

Walking outside, he saw a bench nearby and sat, catching his breath. His legs were feeling a little shaky and his stomach felt queasy, no doubt due to his nervousness about his meeting with the Dean.

Reaching down to pull his cell phone from his backpack, Blair paused for a moment as the world suddenly spun and his vision grayed out briefly. A headache, exquisitely painful, flared for a moment in his skull, and he sat back quickly, grasping his phone in a suddenly sweaty hand. Pressing the button for Jim's desk phone, he closed his eyes against the glaring brightness of the sun and waited for his partner to answer.

"Ellison's desk. Detective Brown speaking."

"Henri? Where's Jim?"

"Hairboy!" Henri's voice took on a delighted tone. "How you doing, man?"

"I'm good, Henri. Where's Jim?"

"Stakeout. He couldn't reach you. Said if you called and needed a ride, for me to swing by and get you."

Blair felt inexplicably disappointed at Henri's words, then scolded himself silently. He could hardly expect Jim to put his job on hold just because his Guide wasn't up to it. Soon, he promised himself. Soon.

"You still there?"

Henri's voice disrupted his reverie and he blinked a couple of times, willing away the pounding in his head. "Yeah. I'm here. Look, don't worry about it, H. I'll call a cab."

"And have Ellison on my case? No way!" Henri answered. "Where are you? I'm on my way."

"Okay, thanks. I'm at Hargrove Hall. Where my office is."

Henri didn't seem to pick up the hesitancy in Blair's tone. "No problem, man. I'll see you in fifteen."

0~0~0~0~0

Normally, Blair enjoyed Henri's boisterous banter but today it was just making his head pound harder. "You sure you don't want to stop for a bite to eat?" the detective asked. "We could get some enchiladas from that new Mexican place. You look like you could use a few more pounds on those bones."

Blair began to shake his head, then thought better of it. "It's been a long day, H, but I'll take a rain-check. I should be going to the gym, but I think I'll skip that as well."

"Can I get you anything? You sure you're going to be all right on your own?" Henri asked, looking doubtful. "After the other week…"

Blair had the passenger door open before Henri had fully stopped the car. "I'm fine," he assured the other man. "Just a little tired. Thanks, H." He squeezed Henri's shoulder to reassure him, and then walked into the apartment building with a final wave.

0~0~0~0~0

Another all night stakeout. Basing his hunches on clues left at the previous bomb and arson scenes by the bomber himself, Joel Taggert had organized a task force to stakeout eight warehouses that he considered most likely to be the bomber's next target.

The man had been taunting them for weeks now, ever since he'd decided that he couldn't get enough excitement from starting fires and had progressed to bombs. So far, there had only been minor injuries, but the bomber was becoming more brazen. The warehouses he was targeting now were closer to the residential areas of Cascade.

Jim waved away the thermos of coffee that Simon held under his nose. "No, thanks, sir. I already feel like I'm swimming in the stuff."

"I know what you mean." Banks tried to stifle a yawn, then gave it full rein before continuing. "I tell you, Jim, I am beat. If we don't get a break in this case soon, I think I'm going to retire."

"You wouldn't do that," Jim countered, flashing the captain an amused sidelong glance. "You thrive on the suspense."

Simon snorted. "My ex thrives on my pay packet, you mean. By the time she takes her alimony and Daryl takes an allowance, there's barely enough left over for my cigar stash." He fingered the tube of tobacco in its leather case lovingly. "You're not going to let me smoke this in here, are you?"

"No, sir…"

Jim stopped as Simon's cell phone buzzed softly. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he flipped it open and answered. "Banks." He listened carefully to the caller, then nodded to Jim. "All right. Thanks. Have all units move into our location. I want three cars blocking all possible exits out of the area." He looked at Jim. "Bomber called. We've got ten minutes. Bomb squad is on the way."

"Ten minutes? That's not enough time. I'm going in to take a look around. Maybe I can track it down."

"Let's go."

Jim made his way quickly to the warehouse. Dialing up his senses, he scanned the surrounding area, but could see no sign of other people. They'd suspected that perhaps the man was watching from a distance, getting a thrill from the buildings being decimated.

He could hear Simon's heartbeat behind him, the rate just a little fast as adrenaline began to surge. Simon's cell phone rang again and the captain stopped and pulled it from his pocket.

Opening the warehouse door, Jim stepped into the darkened interior, grimacing as the squeak of rusty hinges grated on his sensitive hearing. He froze as something skittered over his foot, probably a rat, he decided from the screech it gave as it encountered an intruder in its territory.

Standing just inside the doorway, he took a deep breath and carefully cast out a sensory net, but could discern only the intermittent creaking of the building frame and water dripping rhythmically somewhere to his right.

He was barely aware of someone stepping up beside him as he sorted through the assorted sounds of the night and a dozen different heartbeats as cars pulled up outside and police piled out. Evenly measured clicks. He thought he had the timer pinpointed, but his control slipped as someone bumped against him.

Cursing, he shook himself mentally and started again, aware that time was rapidly running out. An unpleasant smell tickled at his nostrils and he dialed up his olfactory sense, tracking the odor to the office on his right.

"Jim?" A bulky frame filled the doorway then moved in to stand beside him. "You got something?" Taggert asked.

"Joel? Check the office."

"Got it."

Jim turned to follow him, and a piercing beam of light seared his eyeballs, spearing a fiery path through his synapses into his brain. The overload stole all coherent thought. Jim zoned, oblivious to the touch on his shoulder and the insistent voice in his ear.

0~0~0~0~0

Blair started awake at the incessant ringing of the phone, and almost toppled off the couch as he reached to pick it up. He settled himself on the edge of the seat and looked at his surroundings blearily.

The loft was in semi-darkness, the sky outside the balcony doors dim. A textbook lay facedown on the floor at his feet. It must have slipped off his lap when he'd drifted off. How long had he been asleep? Reaching again for the receiver, he identified himself as he pushed his unruly curls out of his eyes.

"Sandburg? It's Simon. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Simon. What's up?" Blair's half-asleep brain had picked up the tight note of concern in the captain's voice, and he shivered.

"Look…Jim's going to kill me for this but…we're at a stakeout at a warehouse on Standfield. Jim zoned and I can't bring him out of it. I think I'm going to need you."

Blair was already pulling himself to a standing position. "I'm on my way, Simon. Which warehouse?"

"Don't be crazy, Sandburg. Even I'm not stupid enough to let you drive. Brown will be there in a couple of minutes to pick you up."

"Okay." Blair was already at the door, pulling his jacket off the hook.

"Is there anything else I can do while I'm waiting?" Simon sounded worried.

"Keep him warm. He loses body heat pretty fast and it's freezing out tonight. Keep talking to him. Keep trying to draw him out of wherever he is."

"Okay."

Blair walked back and hung up the phone, then fished in his pocket for his caffeine pills. He had thought that he'd taken one that morning before he went to the university, but now he wasn't sure. Maybe he'd only thought about it. He had been nervous and jumpy about his interview, after all. If he'd taken one, surely he wouldn't have fallen asleep on the couch. Perhaps he needed to up the dosage. The last thing he needed was to fall on his face the first time he had a chance to be Jim's Guide once more. Mike had told him it was safe to increase the dose, as long as he didn't exceed two a day.

Blair put two pills in his mouth and walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water. Just as he placed the glass back on the sink, there was a knock at the door. Blair moved as quickly as he could to greet Henri, his thoughts now centered entirely on Jim.

0~0~0~0~0

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" Blair watched from his seat on the passenger side of Jim's truck as the irate detective paced up and down in front of him. The anthropologist shivered violently, and then discovered that he couldn't stop.

"Here."

Blair smiled gratefully as Jim pulled his jacket from his shoulders and placed it around his own. "Thanks. Why is it so cold? Aren't you cold?"

"It's not that cold," Jim grumbled. "And stop trying to change the subject."

Blair sighed and lifted a hand to rub at his forehead. His headache was back, and was moving into migraine proportions. He huddled further into Jim's jacket.

"Look," he hissed, well aware of the other police officers still bustling about the crime scene. "Some crazy decided to blow up half of the Cascade industrial district and you along with it. You zoned on the smell of the C4 while you were trying to locate the bomb."

"No, some idiot shone a flashlight in my face while all my senses were wide open."

Blair glared at him. His jaw ached from the tension that gripped it. "You zoned. End of story. What did you expect me to do? Take you home and use you for a doorstop? That's providing, of course, there was going to be anything left of you to take home."

"Joel found the bomb and disarmed it," Jim replied stubbornly. "All Simon had to do was keep talking. I would have come out of it eventually."

"Yeah. Right."

"Look, Jim. Don't take it out on the kid," Simon put in as he stepped up beside the detective. "This was my fault. I asked him to come out here."

"You shouldn't have," Jim answered, turning on the captain, his eyes blazing. "Look what happened the other week. He's not up to being back yet."

"For God's sake, both of you shut up!" Blair shouted. He glared at both men. "You're giving me a headache," he grumbled, rubbing at his head again. "I'm right here, and I'm old enough to make my own decisions. Did you at least catch the guy?"

Simon nodded. "Yeah. Seems he decided to hang around on the phone too long and gloat this time. Stockton and Rafe found him in a phone booth outside Holden Park."

"That's good news." Blair pulled himself out of the truck, wincing as the action caused his headache to surge. He stood with his arms crossed over his shivering chest and stared at his partner. "I was not leaving you here to be blown up or stay lost forever in your senses, man. That was not an option, and there was no choice to be made. Now, can we go home, please?"

Jim locked gazes with him for a moment, then bent down and picked up the jacket that had fallen from Blair's shoulders when he climbed out of the truck. He draped it back over Blair and turned to Simon. "You need me any more, sir?"

Simon shook his head. "Go home. Get some rest. Both of you." He turned a gimlet gaze on Blair. "You got away with that little display of temper because I know you're under some strain, Sandburg. Do it again, and you'll be doing the entire Major Crime Department's paperwork for a month. Is that understood?"

"Yes…sir."

Simon nodded, seemingly appeased. Blair clutched Jim's jacket closer around him and climbed back into the truck. He was still shaking, and he knew it wasn't just from cold.

0~0~0~0~0

Jim had suggested that they stop for something to eat on the way home, but Blair replied sullenly that he wasn't hungry.

"I'm going to pull into the drive-through here, Chief," the detective announced decisively. "I'm starving. I didn't get lunch." He reached out and placed a hand on Blair's arm and the younger man started, then turned shadowed eyes toward him. "You sure I can't get you something?" Jim asked gently. "When did you last eat?"

"I ate." Blair sighed, a long drawn-out, weary sound, then smiled a little. "I just can't remember when." He picked at the frayed hole in his jacket sleeve before he spoke again. "Jim, I'm sorry. I'm letting you down. Maybe I should just forget my dissertation, like you said. Look at teaching or something instead."

"Is that what you want to do? You want to give up working with me? I thought we had this all figured out."

"I don't want to give up working with you. I just don't feel like I'm ever going to be fit enough again to do what I used to do. Teach, study and work with you. Tonight…if I'd been there with you, that flashlight beam wouldn't have bothered you, or if it had, I could have snapped you straight out of that zone. Maybe I should give Megan some pointers. If she's going to be your part…partner for a while, she needs to know how to bring you out of the zones."

"No, that's what you do. I'm the sentinel and you're the shaman, remember? Incacha said so. Conner's just a fill-in until the doctor says you're okay to come back."

Blair looked down and studied his hands, allowing his hair to fall over his face, casting his somber features into darkness. "I'm letting you down."

"The only person you're letting down here is yourself, Sandburg," Jim replied. "Cut yourself some slack. How about we talk to Simon in the morning about you coming in and riding a desk a couple of mornings per week? If I go out on something where I need to use my senses, you can coach Conner over the phone."

That finally got a smile. "I guess. I want to come back, and the Dean's agreeable to me going back to teaching two mornings a week. Maybe I just need to pace myself better."

"You're doing great, just don't push too hard. Okay? Now you want a burger?"

Blair shook his head and wriggled around until he'd wedged himself comfortably into the corner. "Just coffee. I'll have a sandwich when I get home."

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