This is the standard disclaimer.  They don't belong to me.  They never have; they never will, more's the pity.  Don't sue me unless you want an obnoxious 12 year old, who's now decided his main goal in life is to skip school, and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want him.

Blair Sandburg, sixteen-year-old college student and anthropology major, stared at the group of angry, shouting students facing down an imposing line of police officers and realized that perhaps his idea of a peaceful protest wasn't going to work out the way he had expected it to.

It had seemed like such a good idea at the time.  To keep his favorite park on Rainier campus from being turned into a parking lot, he would stage a peaceful protest.  Lots of students, lots of concerned faculty members, lots of good music, lots of fun.  And maybe, they just might accomplish what they set out to do.  Just like when he and his mom used to hang together.  However, it wasn't working out that way.

He had spent hours, in between classes, studying and working, gathering names on his petition, approaching the "cool" faculty members for their input, getting posters and placards printed up, getting a couple of local bands to provide the music.  There were even some food stands.  He had everything under control.  He had even scheduled it for Earth Day in hopes it would bring in the media.  It had brought in the media all right. They were standing off to the side with cameras rolling right now.

He had done everything but get that pesky formal permission from the campus authorities and that's where it had all started going to hell.  What Blair hadn't realized was that nearly everyone in attendance had an agenda of his or her own.  The Women Now group decided that this would be a great opportunity to bring attention to their cause (down with men and all the terrible things they do), as did the animal rights group (with their placards of graphically dissected cats), not to mention all the political groups each with their own cause du jour.

And let us not forget every drug dealer in a five-mile radius who had decided this might be a great opportunity to bump up their business.

Blair had also been unaware that the powers that be were holding a very formal reception just across the street from the park where the protest was being held.  The president of Rainier had been a tad upset to see protestors waving placards referring to him as "a rapist of the land" just as the limos, carrying many very important, very powerful, very rich, dignitaries, were starting to arrive for his gala.  Just as he was placing a call to the campus police to get the situation straightened out, some of the protestors decided it made sense to get up close and personal with said dignitaries arriving in said limos.  Perhaps if they explained the importance of their cause(s) it might bring these oh so important people, and their money, over to their side.

It should be noted here that some of the protestors had spent a great deal of time prior to this peaceful protest ingesting certain illegal substances, to sort of get in the proper frame of mind, and these individuals were the ones who sort of got the ball rolling... downhill.

Blair, holding his megaphone, stood and watched, with his mouth hanging open, in absolute horror at what would only be the first volley in this soon to become all out war.

One of the very important, very powerful, very rich, dignitaries' wives exited a limo in all her glory, which glory included a full length mink coat. Said coat inspired the animal rights activists to go into what could only be described as a feeding frenzy.  One activist felt compelled to throw her drink, which was, unfortunately, a bright red soda, onto the coat, at which point the very important, very powerful, very rich dignitaries' wife let out a screech that was clearly heard at the Cascade zoo across town and compelled the rhesus monkeys to screech in sympathy, thinking that one of their own had just expired.

The dignitary, who was appropriately furious, since he had just shelled out an astronomical amount for said mink coat, just so his wife could be properly attired for these oh so dull affairs, grabbed a placard from the animal rights activist, who was frozen in place staring at the stain on the coat (it looked an awful lot like blood), and began beating the activist about the
head and shoulders.

A rather large member of the Women Now group, seeing a grand opportunity to show man's inhumanity to woman, managed to grab the placard from the dignitary and began beating him about the head and shoulders.  Actually, she was aiming a bit lower, but due to the crowd, she had to settle for the head and shoulder area.

To Blair it seemed that one person right after another joined in the fray until it was nearly impossible to tell the dignitaries from the protestors, aside from the tuxedos and formal gowns, that is.  Of course, the group of bikers showing up at that point didn't help the situation any.

The melee spilled into the street and then worked its way into the park.  Before Blair could react, he was right in the middle of the fray.  He ducked flying placards, fists and what have you, but in doing so he brought up his hand, the one holding the megaphone, to protect his head and inadvertently beaned Gaylord Rennick,  the Vice-president of Finance of Rainier University, who had rushed out to try and bring some order to the situation and been swept across the street in the crowd, in the nose.  As blood gushed from Rennick's nose, covering his rented tux, Blair dropped his megaphone and tried frantically to stop the blood flow, all the while hysterically trying to explain that this wasn't what he had intended by his demonstration.  Even
though Rennick was in a great deal of pain and pissed as hell because now he was going to have to pay for the damn tux, he did understand that the young man babbling before him was THE ONE RESPONSIBLE for this whole mess.

Just when Blair thought it couldn't get any worse, he heard sirens coming.

One by one the campus cops began pulling the protestors from the fight, but soon realized they were out manned and would need backup, if not an outright army, so they placed a call for help to the Cascade PD.  Cascade PD promised to send as many officers as they could spare to help get the situation under control.

All the while Rennick was screaming for officers to come and get this...this... hooligan.  Yes, he actually called Sandburg a hooligan.  While Rennick did work at a major university, it should be noted that he had worked in finance for over 30 years and rarely had any direct contact with any of the students and so he was completely out of touch insofar as modern slang
was concerned.

Blair, realizing that Rennick didn't know his name and perhaps, if he could just disappear in the crowd he might get out of this unscathed, turned and ran straight into a flying fist that knocked him on his ass.  As he sat on the ground holding a hand to his eye, he missed seeing the boot, attached to one very large, very tattooed biker who thought this whole deal looked like a
lot of fun, that connected with the side of his head.  Blair's last coherent thought before the blackness overwhelmed him, was that he was in deep shit.

The biker, who was called Moose, looked down to see what he was stepping on and saw the kid, out cold, on the ground.  Even though he was one of the meanest dudes in the entire northwest, he hadn't meant to kick a kid.  And
this was a kid.  Moose knocked out the guy he had been fighting, and bent down and picked up Sandburg.  He carried him over to a large evergreen bush and gently laid him down under it.  He then grinned and rejoined the fight.

And so ended life as Blair Sandburg, 16-year-old college student and Anthropology major, knew it.

Jim Ellison was in a very bad mood.  His day had started off with his having to deal with a snitch, who lied more often than most politicians, but who had provided information once that had proved useful, so Ellison felt obligated to talk to him this time.  The snitch, appropriately called Eddie the Weasel, had insisted Jim meet him down at the smelliest docks in the city and Jim
noticed immediately, Eddie had failed to bathe in probably a week.

Jim's sense of smell had been acting up lately; he seemed more sensitive to strong odors, which made the whole meeting incredibly uncomfortable.  And, of course, this meeting was a complete waste of time.  The Weasel's information
was so old, Jim thought it was probably new during the Civil War.

He had just gotten back to the station, where he was the newest member of the Major Crimes unit, when he got a call from forensics informing him that they had misplaced evidence he had gathered at a murder scene the night before.
After loudly reaming out the unfortunate messenger, he went to get a fresh cup of coffee and walked out of the break room carrying his full cup just in time to get creamed by a stoned vagrant who had managed to break away from the officers who were escorting him to booking.  The cup went flying, with most of the coffee landing on Jim's favorite shirt.

Jim's partner, Jack Pendergrast, had made the announcement that he was officially retiring, leaving Jim to wonder who he would be stuck with now. Jim didn't like partners and it had taken Jack several months to get him used  to the idea of working with one.  Now, with Jack leaving, Jim couldn't face the thought of working with anyone else.

All of this occurred before noon.

Then he had been served with divorce papers that afternoon.  It's not that the papers were a surprise; after all he and Carolyn had been separated for two months, had divided their personal belongings, said their goodbyes, but that she would have him served at work, in front of his co-workers, was something he hadn't expected from her.  When the process server had stood in
front of his desk, and with a smirk, loudly informed him he was officially "served,” Ellison had felt the eyes of everyone in the bull pen on him.  Jim felt an almost overpowering need to wipe that smirk off the asshole's face, but managed to restrain himself at the last second.  The process server, seeing the look on Ellison's face and his abbreviated movement, realized he
better get out while he could and nearly vaulted over a desk to get out of the bull pen.

So now it was official.  He had failed in his marriage.  This was nothing new.  He had failed in nearly every relationship he had ever had.  Actually, he had failed in every relationship he had ever had.  His brother, his father, his unit in Peru, and now his wife.  He had failed them all.

As he was driving home after this very difficult day, he was looking forward to getting a beer and having time to reflect on his life in peace and quiet. Or maybe he'd just have several beers and leave the reflection for a later time.  As he was weighing the advantages and disadvantage of getting drunk, the call came over his radio regarding the situation at Rainier and for all
units in the vicinity to please respond.  Even though he was miles away, Ellison decided that maybe a down and dirty free for all was just what the doctor ordered and called in that he was on his way.

Jim was more than mildly disappointed to find that most of the excitement was over by the time he got to the campus.

He joined two officers wrestling a large tattooed biker who didn't want to see the fun end and managed to get in a couple of good blows before the biker had enough.  During the short fight, he felt his sleeve give way and realized that finished off what was left of his favorite shirt.

As he escorted the biker to the holding van, he noticed a tall thin man *the guy really looks like Icabod Crane* in a tuxedo, holding a cloth to his bleeding nose, standing by one of the ambulances, and shouting to anyone in listening distance, something about finding that hooligan who was THE ONE RESPONSIBLE for this whole mess.  Jim turned the biker over to one of the
uniforms and went over to the guy in the tux to find out more about the situation.

"Excuse me, I'm Detective Ellison with the Cascade PD.  Who are you and can you give me a description of the man you say is responsible for this?"  Jim almost winced when he saw the condition of the tux. *That's going to cost big bucks to replace.  Sure hope it's not a rental.*  It was pretty impressive, really.  The man managed to whine and sound nasal at the same time. *Kind of like that skinny woman on that really awful TV show that Carolyn loved, that was finally put out of its misery - uh, canceled.*

"Yes.  I'm Gaylord Rennick, the vice-president of finance here at Rainier.  I got a really good look at him just before he attacked me.  He ADMITTED to me that he was the organizer, that he started this whole thing!  He was short,
had long fuzzy brown hair and blue eyes.  He is a hooligan and I want him caught.  He ruined the president's Earth Day gala.  Just look around!  Look what he did!  The most important people in this state got caught up in this thing.  The LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR was here!  I never thought I'd say this, but thank God, the Governor had a prior commitment.  We'll probably never get another dime out of any of them!  I want that hooligan caught and locked up and..."

At this point Rennick removed the cloth from his nose, got an up close and personal look at the blood on his tux, and suddenly realizing that it was all his blood, promptly passed out.

Jim stood watching impassively as Rennick's eyes rolled up in his head, and he toppled straight back, hitting the ground with a thud.  *It only took ten seconds for that guy to irritate the hell out of me.* The EMTs took over as Jim walked away.

Jim slowly walked around the nearly empty park.  He didn't really expect to find anything, but it beat going home to an empty loft.  He suddenly focused on a group of evergreen bushes, several yards away.  He would swear he saw
something move under there.  Something blue.  He slowly moved closer.

Blair didn't know exactly how he had gotten under the bushes, but even though his head felt like it was going to fall off, he had the presence of mind to stay hidden.  He felt guilty as he watched the police put the protestors in the van, but not guilty enough to give himself up.  He vaguely remembered what Rennick had said just before he got clobbered.  He couldn't afford to
lose his grants and God only knew what would happen if the law ever found out about his living situation.  He could not only be kicked out of school, he could be locked up, maybe for a long time, so he stayed where he was.

Blair watched a tall, rather imposing, man wander around and suddenly felt a chill as he realized the man appeared to be looking at the bush he was hiding under.  He didn't think this guy was one of the pigs, because he wasn't wearing a uniform and his clothes were dirty and torn.  Blair figured he must be one of the faculty that got caught up in the melee.  Just as the man got
close enough for Blair to see his face, the van carrying the last of the protestors away gave a sudden, extremely loud backfire.  The man clapped his hands to his ears and bent double as if he was in a great deal of pain.

Blair scrambled out from under the bush and crossed to the man.  He put his hand out to help him up saying, "Hey, man, are you okay?  I mean are you hurt?  You've gotta be careful, there's still some pigs hanging around.  You don't want to accidentally get arrested.  Come on, let me get you out of here.  What do you teach?  I mean, you're faculty, right?"

Ellison couldn't believe the pain the backfire had caused him.  He could vaguely feel the hands of someone helping him to stand straight and slowly started making sense of what the man was saying.  He was irritated to hear the police referred to as pigs and took a closer look at who was talking.

What he saw was a kid.  A kid who looked like he had time traveled from the 60’s.  A kid who couldn't possibly be more than 15 or 16-years-old.  He was 5'8", maybe 5'9", and weighed in at about 145-150.  His hair was curly, *not fuzzy* he thought absently, shoulder length and his eyes were a deep blue. His clothes were dirty and his jeans had a large hole in the knee.

He had the start of what looked to be a pretty impressive black eye and there was blood on the side of his face, Ellison noted with surprising concern. Surprising because Jim Ellison rarely felt concern for anyone.  He was known as the iceman at the station for a reason, and that reason was his total lack of emotion when dealing with perps and victims, alike.

"Come on, man, let's get out of here.  I don't really want to be spending any time with the pigs if I can avoid it.  Are you sure you're okay, cause I gotta tell ya my head feels like it's gonna fall off and I'm not sure I can hold you up if you're not able to stand on your own." Pulling at his arm, "COME ON, MAN!"

"Hold it.  I'm okay.  What's your name?  And what's wrong with your head?"

"My name is Blair Sandburg.  I think I got punched or kicked or something, and do you mind if we move over there, at least out of the direct view of those pigs standing over there?"

"Don't call them pigs.  I really don't like that."  Ellison's voice was pure ice and that penetrated even through Blair's pounding skull.

"Chill, man.  I didn't mean anything, okay?  It's just that I was the chief...  what's the word... God, my head's pounding!  I organized this thing.  I was the chief... I was the chief..." his voice faded out as his knees gave way.

Ellison caught him as he slowly slumped to the ground.  "Okay, Chief, let's get you to the hospital."

Jim was never sure what made him decide to take the kid to the hospital himself.  There was one ambulance left with EMTs who could have taken over. But he felt compelled to make sure this kid got taken care of properly. Besides, Rennick had come to and was shouting again and the EMTs were kind of tied up with him.  At least that's what he told himself as he bent down and pulled the kid up and over his shoulder. *He'll get help faster if I take him myself.*

He carried the kid, *Sandburg, his name is Blair Sandburg,* over to his truck, opened the door and gently laid him on the seat.  Jim tried to figure out a way to strap him in, but with the kid slumped to the side, it was impossible.  *I'll just have to make sure he doesn't fall off, maybe have to drive a little slower than usual.*

The ride to the hospital took twice as long as it would have normally, because Jim felt it was necessary to keep one hand on the kid's shoulder the whole way.  Just to make sure he stayed on the seat.

When they arrived at Cascade General, had Blair been conscious, he could have told Jim that the ER waiting room looked very similar to what the protest had looked like at its most hectic.  At least 50 people were milling around the waiting room with various bruises, abrasions, etc.  Some were sporting bloody noses, black eyes and even a couple of broken bones.  Some were crying, some shouting and some were even silent.  And the very important, very powerful, very rich, dignitary's wife, who had sort of started it all, was holding her stained mink coat and sobbing loudly over the red soda stain (it really did look an awful lot like blood), while her husband was holding an ice pack to his eye and glaring with the other eye at the large Women Now member who had given him the black eye.  The large Women Now member stood holding her shoulder and glared right back.  All this was going on with about 10 campus and uniformed cops trying to keep everyone under control.  The uniforms were waiting for some of the patients to be attended to so they could be transported to the station for booking.

Ellison took one long look around the waiting room and decided that no one there needed help any quicker than the kid he was, once again, holding over his shoulder.  At least they were all conscious.

He walked up and said to the woman at the desk, "This kid needs attention now."

"He'll have to fill out this form and take a number.  As you can see, we're the most popular place in town tonight." With a sigh, "And it's not even a full moon."  Without looking up from her computer, she pulled out a clipboard with the requisite forms and pushed it across the counter.

"I don't think you understood me.  I said he needs attention NOW."  This was said with more than a hint of steel in his voice.

At that she looked up, saw the unconscious Sandburg hanging over Ellison's shoulder and  immediately pushed a button by her computer.  "Joe, I need a gurney here stat!"

Jim read over the forms on the clipboard, while he stood by the gurney holding the kid, wondering exactly how he was supposed to fill out these things.  He knew nothing about this kid, except that his name was Blair Sandburg.  Oh, well, it was a start.

At the moan coming from the gurney, he put the forms aside.  "It's okay. You're in the emergency room, waiting for a doctor to take a look at your head."

"Huh?  Shit, my head hurts.  How did I get here?" Blair tried to sit up, but Jim placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, keeping him flat.

"I brought you.  You passed out on me and I figured this was the best place for you.  Lie still.  How do you feel, Chief?"

"Shit!  How do you think I feel?  Like I got kicked in the head, man."  Blair hurt just enough to be belligerent.  "Listen, man, I don't have any insurance.  I can't pay for this.  Help me up and let me get out of here, before the pi... I mean the cops find out I'm here."  His head might be pounding, and he might not remember getting here, but he remembered how this
guy had sounded when he had referred to the cops as pigs at the park.  "You gotta help me, man.  If they find out I'm here... I am so not into getting busted."  Blair was starting to get hysterical as he remembered how much shit he was actually in and how much he stood to lose if he got caught.  He tried to fight the big guy holding him down, but between his head pounding and the
size of this guy, he was fighting a losing battle.

"Trust me, you don't want to try and get up.  It'll only make your head hurt worse.  And I am definitely not in the mood to keep picking your skinny ass up off the ground.  Calm down.  Tell me why you were at that protest.  I know you said you organized it, but you can't be old enough to be a Rainier student.  Did you really just wander in and get caught up in it?  How do I
get a hold of your parents?"  Jim tried to make his voice soothing and not sound like he was interrogating the kid, when actually that was what he was doing.

"Just let me go.  I told you I don't have time for this.  If they find out I'm here, I am in such deep sh..."  Ellison put his hand over Sandburg's mouth.

"Watch your language.  You've got a few years before you're old enough to talk like that."

Just as Blair was ready to let this jerk have it, *who the hell does he think he is?* a harried doctor came through the curtain.  "What do we have here?"

*Geeze, do they all take a class to learn how to talk that way?* Blair wondered.  *WE don't have anything here.  I have a head that's gonna fall off and this jerk that's coming on like he's my father or a cop or...*

Blair raised his head and looked at the big man accusingly.  "You're not faculty, you're a cop!  You're a stinking pig!"

Ellison's jaw tightened and he clenched his fists to keep from grabbing the brat and shaking him.  He tried to remember the kid was hurt, but he had an almost overwhelming urge to yank him over his knee and blister his backside.

"I told you I don't like that word.  They are police officers, and yes, I am one of them.  Now, tell me how to contact your parents, so they can come down and fill out these damn forms!"  He picked up the clipboard and waived it
menacingly.

At this point, the doctor who had been looking at each of the two men, in turn, decided it would be judicious to step in.  "Why don't you step out and let me check over this young man?  We'll see what needs to be done and go from there." He ushered Ellison out the curtain and turned to Blair.  "Now why don't you tell me exactly where you are hurt?"

Jim stood in the hallway outside the exam cubicle, impatiently tapping the clipboard against his leg and wondered how long it was going to take.  He had filled out what he knew.  Name, Blair Sandburg; no insurance.  That hadn't
taken too long.  Now he was waiting for the doctor to come out and fill him in on the kid's condition, so he could decide whether to book him tonight, or, if he was admitted, wait until he was released.  He did need to know how
to get hold of the parents, though.  *I'm looking forward to having a long talk with that kid's old man.  That might be a wasted effort, though, if the old man is anything like the kid.  Maybe that's where the kid gets it.*

The doctor broke into Jim's musings as he came from the cubicle.  "How is he?"

"I don't believe he has a concussion, and since he's so adamant about having no insurance and not being able to pay for this, I'm not going to admit him. But I would feel better if I knew he was going to have someone keep an eye on him tonight.  He's obviously coherent, but I believe he needs someone to wake him up every couple of hours through the night, just to be on the safe side."

He looked at Ellison questioningly.

"Oh, no, doc!  I'm not his babysitter.  I'm just the arresting officer. I believe he's a minor and I need to find out how to contact his parents.  Did he give you any idea who they are and where we can locate them?"

"No, not a word about that.  He's very concerned he's going to be ‘busted.' He did say something about losing his grants and not getting his degree and he also said something about not finding something or somebody he's looking for....  Sentinel.  Does that make any sense to you?"

Jim shook his head.  "Oh, well, I thought he might be rambling a bit.  I've given him a mild sedative for the pain and I thought it might have hit him a bit quickly.  He probably hasn't eaten anything for hours and it works faster on an empty stomach."  He was making his notes in the chart during the entire conversation and with a snap he closed it up and looked directly at Ellison.
"Tell me officer...?"

"Detective, Detective Jim Ellison."

"Detective Ellison.  What exactly are you going to do with him now?"

Before Jim could answer, he heard a familiar voice coming from down the hall.

"Jim, buddy, how the hell did you get involved in this mess?  Decided your day needed even more livening up?"

Jim looked up and saw his partner, Jack Pendergrast, walking towards him, grinning.  Jack was a big man, taller than Ellison and with shoulders almost half again as wide as Jim's.  He had taken Ellison on as his partner, when Jim had first come into the Major Crimes division, when no one else wanted to have anything to do with the cold son of a bitch that Ellison was, and had
not only shown him the ropes, but had actually managed to get Jim to loosen up somewhat.  Not as much as Jack would have liked, but he had made a credible start in the process of turning Jim Ellison into a human being. Now, of course, Jack was retiring, so Jim would have to complete the process on his own.

"Jack, what are you doing here?"

"The Cap called in every able body to help get these yahoos booked and down to court.  The mayor called for a special night court just to get this situation taken care of.  Guess who the lucky judge is that got this assignment?"

"Not Judge Harrigan!  Tell me it's not ‘ole hang ‘em high, Harrigan!'"

"Right, first try.  What are you doing here?"

"I picked up a kid who, I think, might have been involved.  He said he was the "chief organizer.'  Actually, he said he was the chief and that he organized it, but I'm thinking he was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  He was hurt, so I brought him in to get taken care of.  I'm  pretty sure he's a minor, but I can't get any information out of him.  He's got a mouth on him, though."

"Just like another guy I used to know.   Wonder what happened to that guy?"

Jim laughed as he went into the cubicle to collect his prisoner.  He was really going to miss Jack after he retired.

Now they were sitting in night court waiting for the judge, it was ole hang ‘em high, Harrigan, to hear the charges.  The kid was leaning against Jim, sound asleep, snoring softly.  *He looks so innocent, asleep.  Actually, he looked pretty innocent when he was awake, too.  It's only when his mouth gets going, that the innocent look disappears.*

Jim watched with only mild interest as the judge, who looked like he was half asleep, heard the charges against the large, tattooed biker that Jim remembered from the park.  The judge made short work with that guy.  Thirty days in County lockup.  Fine; $100. *Not bad.  Could have been more, but with any other judge, it probably would have been a lot less.*

As the uniform escorted the biker past the row where Jim was sitting with Sandburg, the biker paused.  "How's he doing?  Is he okay?"

Looking puzzled at his concern, Jim nodded.  "When he wakes up, tell him I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to kick him.  Just got carried away, ya know?  I hope he was okay under that bush.  I worried about it later.  Hoped someone would
find him.  I mean, he's just a kid, ya know?"

Once again, Jim nodded.  Blair snored on, totally oblivious to the conversation.  "Take care of him.  I bet he's an okay kid."  As the uniform pulled him out of the courtroom Jim couldn't help but smile.  *This kid has an effect on everyone he comes in contact with.  The doctor, a biker, me. Whoa, where did that come from?*

While this was going on in the back of the courtroom, it was getting interesting up front.  The judge was listening with rapt attention as the dignitary and the large Women Now member were arguing about who hit whom first and how hard and how much damage had been done, and all the while the dignitary's wife was still sobbing over her mink coat.  Even the judge
finally had enough of this fascinating story and fined all parties $50 with no jail time for any of them.  But he did tell the dignitary's wife that if she didn't shut up, he would be tempted to give her 30 days, just for being so annoying.  A rap of the gavel.  Next case.

"Blair Sandburg."

Jim tried to gently nudge Sandburg awake, but it wasn't working.  Jack sat on the other side of the kid, laughing his head off.  Meanwhile the bailiff was calling for Blair Sandburg again.  Finally Jim lost patience, which he had never had a large supply of on a good day, and this wasn't remotely close to being a good day, and shook Blair hard enough to wake him up.

"Huh?  Whass goin on?"

"You have to go up there."  Jim gave him a shake as he started to lower his head back down.  "Come on, Chief, you have to go talk to the nice judge."

When Ellison looked up, he saw that all the people in the courtroom, including the judge, were watching this little production.  He whispered, "Come on, Chief, don't do this to me.  Ole hang ‘em high Harrigan isn't too thrilled with me right now."  *Not since I told him in open court that one of his rulings stunk.  That was not a good way to make friends with the man* he
now realized.

"Detective Ellison.  Having a problem?"  Judge Harrigan asked, somewhat sarcastically.

"Uh, one minute, your honor.  He's a little groggy, but he's coming."  Jim lifted the kid up on his feet and half carried him up to the bench.  As he dragged Sandburg into the isle, he noticed Captain Simon Banks standing by the door.  He was less than thrilled to realize that his boss was also witnessing this scene.

When he got through the gate and in front of the judge, he tried to hand the kid over to the bailiff, who rather smartly stepped just out of reach, forcing him to stand there, holding the kid up.  The bailiff had worked with, and much admired, ole hang ‘em high, Harrigan for 15 years and had been present the day Ellison had mouthed off, so he was not inclined to give the
detective any help whatsoever.

As the prosecutor was going almost by rote into the charges of disorderly conduct, unlawful assembly, etc., etc., a whiny, nasal voice that Ellison privately swore he would probably hear in his nightmares called out, "That's him.  He's the one who attacked me.  HE'S THE HOOLIGAN!  I'm Gaylord Rennick, the vice-president of finance at Rainier and this hooligan is the one who
attacked me.  He's the one who ruined my tux.  HE'S THE ONE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS WHOLE THING!"

Rennick strode to the front of the courtroom and tried to get past the bailiff, who had leapt in front of him, thinking he might be a lunatic who had escaped from custody.  It did happen occasionally.  After all, how many normal people did you see wearing a bloody tuxedo?

Blair, who had been having an absolutely wonderful dream about the South American jungle and being a real anthropologist and finding his dream, an actual sentinel, jerked up as he recognized that voice from his worst nightmare.  He unconsciously moved closer to the big guy, holding him up. Pendergrast noted that Jim absently held Blair a little tighter to his side,
almost protectively.

The judge in the meantime took an immediate dislike to Rennick (a usual occurrence for most people since Rennick had never had the knack of making friends or influencing people, although he had read a number of self help books on the subject over the years), but allowed him to come forward and be heard.

"Now suppose you try and CALMLY explain to the court what is going on here. I don't want to hear anymore outbursts, just tell me exactly what happened; and Mr. Rennick try not to whine, it REALLY irritates the court... and me."

Jack Pendergrast sat in the back of the room and chuckled to himself. *Oh, this is going to be good.*

Rennick took a deep breath.  "Your honor, this hooligan told me he is the one responsible for the whole fiasco that took place this afternoon.  He told me this right after he attacked me; right after he ruined this tux... it's a rental and now I'm going to have to pay for it and he almost broke my nose and completely ruined the president's Earth Day gala and we'll probably run
short on donations next year and you should see the condition of the park..."  The longer Rennick spoke, the more whiny and nasally he became.  He added a new sound to his repertoire, a screech that would have made the dignitary's wife take notice.

Judge Harrigan, who wondered idly what had Rennick the most upset, the tux, the donations or his nose, had about as much as he could take and motioned Rennick to silence, which Rennick ignored, rambling on and on, ad infinitum, until Harrigan was forced to sharply rap his gavel to break his momentum and shut him up.  He turned his gaze to the young man who was the subject of all those heinous accusations and was surprised to see an almost angelic looking child, instead of the monster he was expecting.  He wasn't moved, however, since during his many long years on the bench, he had seen other monsters who
looked like complete angels before.

"Young man, would you like to answer these accusations.  But before you do, I want to know exactly how old you are."

Blair tried to get his brain to form the sentences that would make THE MAN sitting behind the bench believe him and let him go, but speech was difficult, if not downright impossible, at this point.  It was almost an out of body experience. *I wonder if this is what Naomi was trying to describe that time in Tibet?  He would have to give that more thought at a later
time.*  What was THE MAN asking, oh yeah, how old is he.  He tried to remember what his ID said; what he and Naomi had concocted together as his birth date so he could get into Rainier, but it was too complicated for him to remember right now.  He was stuck with the truth.  "I'm almost 16, sir."

He looked up at THE MAN quickly with wide, frightened, blue eyes, and then almost buried his face in the chest of the guy holding him up.  That seemed to be the safest place to be right about now.

"Detective Ellison, could you explain why this young man, this minor child, has not been turned over to juvenile authorities?"  Harrigan was furious.  No matter what this kid was accused of, he didn't belong in adult court.

"Your honor, I didn't know until just now, exactly how old he was.  He was injured and I had to take him to the hospital and he refused to give me any information; so, even though I was sure he was a minor, he had a Rainier ID and usually that would make him an adult, legally speaking...."  Jim’s voice trailed off.  Harrigan was going to nail his ass to the wall.  In the back of
the room, Pendergrast let out a loud guffaw.

Jim tried again.  "Your honor, I couldn't get the kid to tell me how to contact his family... maybe you could get it out of him and I could try and track them down..."  Once again under the steely eye of the court, Jim's voice trailed off.  He just knew he was dead meat.

Harrigan cleared his throat and tried to soften his voice.  "Young man," no response.  Mr. Sandburg," still nothing.  "Blair," the boy looked up at the judge; "please tell us where your family is.  Where's your mother?"

Finally, a question that made sense to Blair's confused mind.  Blair tried to remember where Naomi's last letter was post marked from.  "India?  Maybe Kathmandu."

Jim let out a snort of disbelief. *Who is this kid trying to fool?*

"How about your father, son.  Where is he; who is he?"

Blair vaguely remembered feeling that the guy now holding him up had come on like a father in the hospital and between being scared to death and the sedative and feeling safe with the man holding him, he looked up into the face of the guy and with muddled reasoning murmured, "You?" to Ellison.

The people in the courtroom burst out into excited voices, but the loudest sound, hysterical laughter, came from Pendergrast as he brushed past Simon, who was still standing by the door watching in disbelief, on his way out. His booming laugh could be heard all the way down the hall.

"Court will take a five minute recess!"  Bang went the gavel.

Jim used that five minutes to try and calm down enough to keep from killing the kid.  He had dropped the kid into a chair, and even though he was absolutely furious, he stood right next to him with a hand on his shoulder. Just to keep him from sliding down to the floor, he told himself.

Banks walked up from the back of the room and before he could even open his mouth, Jim ground out.  "Don't even start with me.  You know I have never seen this kid before.  I couldn't possibly be his father, I'm only 30.  I would have had to have had him at 15.  Kind of difficult, don't you think?"

"But not impossible.  Are you sure..." Simon trailed off at the look in Ellison's eye. *Hmm, better not go there.*

"Yes, I am absolutely positive.  This brat is NOT my son."  But the entire time Jim was talking, Simon noted he didn't take his hand off the kid's shoulder.

Blair was vaguely conscious of the conversation taking place over his head. *Just another guy in a long list of guys who didn't want him.  Who needs him anyway?*  With that he tried to move away from the hand on his shoulder, but the hand only tightened warningly.  Blair subsided with a pout.

"All rise, Court is now back in session, with the Honorable J.P. Harrigan presiding."  Jim dragged the kid to his feet as Simon resumed his place in the back and Pendergrast entered through the door.  The men's eyes met. Jack's eyes were lit with an almost fiendish delight.  *He knows something. What's going on?*

Harrigan took the bench.  "I have contacted the juvenile authorities and they have informed me that they have no one available to take charge of Mr. Sandburg tonight, so he would have to be placed in lock-up until they can spare someone to take charge tomorrow.  I have concluded that that is not the correct placement for this young man.  Detective Ellison, you stated earlier
that if you had the information, you could track down this young man's family; so I am placing him in your custody for now.  You will do your utmost to find out exactly where this boy's mother is and get her here to take charge of her son.  And possibly find out who, if not yourself, is his father."

"But...but...but, your honor...."  Jim actually sputtered for the first time in his life.  He took a deep breath.  "Aren't there procedures for someone to become a guardian of... I mean, I just met this kid... I don't know anything about taking care of a kid... what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"I have had a very enlightening talk with your partner, Mr. Pendergrast," at that Jim shot an evil look to Jack, "and he assures me that you are the perfect man for this situation.  With your experience as a former Army Ranger, a police officer, a detective with Major Crimes, I'm sure you will be able to handle a 15-year-old boy."

"But, your honor, how do I find his mother?"

"You are a detective, detect something," Harrigan snapped.  *Boy, Jack, I sure hope you know what you're doing.  This guy looks like he wants to kill something.  I hope it's not the kid who will suffer.*  But he and Jack Pendergrast had been lovers for over 10 years and there was no one else on the face of the planet whose judgment he trusted more.  Jack had assured him
this was the perfect solution to the problem, both the kid's and the detective's.

"But your honor..."  Rennick's irritating voice interrupted Harrigan's musings.  "What about my tux... what about my nose... what about...."

"Mr. Rennick this boy is in no condition to answer any charges at this time. I need him coherent to be able to help defend himself.  I will set this matter on the docket and all parties will be notified with the date of that hearing.  I assure you it will be within 60 days from this date.  Detective Ellison that is how much time you have to locate the boy's family."

Bang.  "Next case."

Blair, who had been watching and listening to the whole conversation with detached interest, *boy, these drugs sure are nice* winced at the bang of the  gavel.  He stole a furtive look into the furious face of the guy holding him and decided a nice long nap was exactly what was needed at this time.

Jim caught the kid before he hit the floor and swung him up in his arms. "Come on, Chief.  I guess we're stuck with each other for a while."  He turned to carry him out of the courtroom and met Jack and Simon, both men grinning, coming up to meet him.

Jack couldn't resist.  "Congratulations, Jim, it's a boy!"

As he pulled into his parking space, the headlights from Jack Pendergrast's car flashed in his mirror.  Jack, with Simon Banks, had volunteered to give him a hand with the kid.  Jim had gratefully accepted their offer.  Jim got out and walked around the truck, meeting Jack and Simon and handed Jack the keys to the loft.  He then opened the door and pulled the kid upright, just
long enough to get a good hold, ducked down and pulled him over his shoulder, *for the third time that day,* he realized with a sigh.

As Jack held the door open, Jim carried the boy in and laid him on the sofa, wincing as he did.  The kid was filthy and the sofa, picked out by Carolyn, was light beige.  Simon, seeing  the wince, said bracingly, "Better get used to it Jim, kids and dirt go together.  You might think about buying a darker sofa; with a kid around it would probably last longer."

"The kid is just here temporarily, Simon.  It's not like he's going to be living here till he gets married, or anything."  Jim pushed a pillow under the boy's head and bent down to untie his shoes and take them off before lifting his legs up on the sofa noting that the jeans were not only filthy, they were sporting several holes.

"You never know, Jim, he just might be a part of your life forever."  Jack chuckled as he contributed to the conversation.

Jim turned on Jack with a frown.  "Just what did you say to ole hang ‘em high, anyway?  How did I get turned into some kind of babysitter?"

"I just told him you were the best man for the job, Jim, that's all."  Jack continued to chuckle.  He hadn't had this much fun in a long time.  "Better get the kid cleaned up, before you put him down for the night."

His suggestion made a lot of sense, but Jim was uncomfortable with the idea of bathing the kid.  *It's not like he's a relative or even a friend and now I have to get really personal with him.  I hope he doesn't fight this, I'm in no mood to put up with any tantrums.*

"The doctor said he needs to be woken up periodically through the night, so I guess I can look forward to no sleep tonight."  Jim tried to look pitiful in hopes it might make the other two men feel compelled to keep him company.  It
wasn't working.

Simon headed for the door saying, "Sorry, Jim, I've got my own youngster to worry about.  But I'm thankful to say, at least I don't have to give Darryl a bath.  Joan takes care of that.  Take tomorrow off to get the kid settled and get the information on tracking down his family.  Good luck!"  His voice faded as the door closed behind him.

Jack tried to follow Simon, but Jim could move very quickly when he needed to and Jack found the door blocked by him.

"Oh, no you don't.  You got me into this mess, you can damn well help me out here!"  Jim growled.  "You get the water running in the tub, while I... on second thought I'll get the water running and you get the kid undressed." With that he hurried off to the bathroom, leaving Jack to wonder if this was such a good idea after all.

When Jim had pushed the job of undressing the kid off on Jack, he hadn't taken into account the fact that the kid had no idea who Jack was.  When Blair had opened his eyes to see this really huge stranger trying to get his pants off, he let out a yell that could be heard down at the station and fought him off long enough to stand up, trip over his jeans that were around
his ankles, and fall onto the coffee table.  Jack had backed up, not wanting to hurt the kid and couldn't manage to catch him in time to keep him from hitting the table.

Jack had just pulled him up, when Jim came running in from the bathroom, leaving the water running (which he regretted later), and growled, "Give him to me.  I'll handle this." He took the trembling boy into his arms and said soothingly, "Chief, take it easy.  It's okay, no one's going to hurt you."

Blair, who only had a vague recollection of who Jim was, let go with a punch to Jim's solar plexus, that caught the older man completely off guard, causing Jim to double over, dragging Blair down with him, with both men landing on the sofa, Jim on top.

"LET ME GO, MAN.  WHAT KIND OF SICK SON OF A BITCH PERVERTS ARE YOU?  I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, YOU ASSHOLE AND I'M TELLING YA, YOU'RE NOT GETTING IT HERE.  FUCKING LET ME GO, RIGHT NOW."  Blair continued to loudly rant, unfortunately right in Jim's ear, until Jim grabbed his face with both hands, and forced him to meet his eyes.

"SHUT UP!"  Jack winced at Jim's sensitivity.  "NO ONE HERE IS GOING TO HURT YOU, YOU GOT THAT?"   Oddly enough, it was the genuine anger that broke through the boy's fear.  Rather confusingly, to the normal mind, but his
reasoning was always somewhat convoluted, Blair figured that no one who was a pervert would actually be that mad at being called a pervert, so this guy must be telling the truth.  Blair stopped fighting and tried to concentrate on what the man was telling him.

"NOW, WE ARE JUST TRYING TO GET YOU CLEANED UP SO YOU CAN REST EASIER, OKAY?"

"Uh, Jim, I think he's got the point.  You can stop yelling now."  This from Jack who was, once again, trying to contain his laughter.

"Oh, right.  Well, since you're awake, you can take care of getting yourself undressed."  Jim rose and helped the boy up.  "Come into the bathroom and we'll get you in the tub."

"Uh, man, I've been taking care of myself for a long time.  I really don't need your help."  Blair dragged his jeans up as he said quickly and politely, seeing the look on the big guy's face, "Uh, I appreciate the offer, though."

"Let's get one thing straight, here, Chief.  I give the orders and you follow them.  Now move!"  With that, Jim, who had lost every bit of patience he had ever had, grabbed the kid's arm and dragged him towards the bathroom.  When
Blair tried to yank his arm out of Ellison's hold, Jim calmly pulled him forward and landed a swat to his butt to keep him moving.

"Hey, man, how old do you think I am, anyway?  I'm not a kid, you know."

"I know exactly how old you are, and it doesn't make any difference.  You've managed to push me to the limit; and if I were you, I'd try cooperating if I wanted to be able to sit comfortably anytime in the near future."  Jim put just enough steel in his voice to intimidate the kid completely.  Swallowing hard and without another word, Blair followed the big guy to the bathroom.

As Blair sat in the tub of warm water, he'd had to wait for the big guy to clean up because the tub had overflowed, he wondered exactly how he managed to get his life from normal, for him anyway, to this.  Sitting still while an
almost total stranger washed the dried blood from his head, washed his hair and insisted that he leave the door open while Blair finished his bath.  The bigger guy had taken off with his clothes.  He idly wondered what he would wear when he got out.

It was kind of nice to have someone taking care of him again.  He hadn't had that in a long time, but that it was such a large, such an intimidating man doing the caretaking, was very confusing to the boy.  There really hadn't been all that many men in his young life and the few that had been around for a while hadn't been interested in taking care of him, they had just used him
to get to his mother.

He yawned softly and sunk lower in the warm water.  He hadn't had this in a while either.  His place ran to cold water, not hot, which meant bathing at the gym on campus, which just had showers.  He couldn't remember the last time he had had the pleasure of a good long soak.  Just as he had that thought, the big guy came in carrying sweats for him to put on.

"Time to get out, Chief.  You don't want to go to sleep in there.  Let me help you out, then you dry off and put these on.  They'll hang on you, but I don't have anything else that will work.  Jack put your clothes in the wash, so they'll be clean for you to wear tomorrow."  With that the big guy helped Blair out of the tub onto the mat and handed him a towel.  "Do you need any
help drying off?"

"No, man, thanks, but I got it."  Blair blushed as he quickly wrapped the towel around his waist.  "Can I have another towel for my hair?"  The big guy reached into the cabinet, under the sink and handed him another towel before leaving the room.

The big guy helped him back to the sofa, which was now covered by a sheet, and helped him lie down.  "Head hurting?"  At Blair's nod, Jim picked up the glass of water and aspirin and handed them to him, waiting until he drank his fill before putting it back on the table.  "Try and get some sleep, Chief. We have a long day tomorrow."  With that Jim rose, picked up the glass and started back to the kitchen.

"Wait!  I know you probably already told me and I just don't remember, but what's your name?"

"James Ellison, but you can call me Jim."

*Jim* was Blair's last thought before sleep overtook him.

 An hour later, both men were sitting at the table nursing a much-needed cup of coffee, while the kid lay, softly snoring, and covered by a heavy quilt, on the sofa.  Jim glanced over, relieved to see the kid wasn't moving around.  One more fall tonight and they just might have to make another trip to the ER.

"You mind telling me what's going on with you lately?"  Pendergrast broke the companionable silence.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how come you are all of a sudden so protective of this kid?  I mean the look on your face when the kid hit the coffee table... if I didn't already know I could take you, I might have been worried.  It's like you couldn't stand to see me holding him.  And what is it with your hearing anyway.  We're sitting out here, giving the kid some room, and all of a
sudden you say ‘he's going to sleep in there.'   You jump up and rush in to take care of him.  I gotta tell you Jim, I didn't hear a thing from in there.  So you tell me, what's going on?"

"Jack, do you mean to tell me you didn't hear him yawn?"

"Of course not.  How could you hear a yawn from clear in there?"

Once Jim really thought about it, he realized he shouldn't have been able to hear the kid yawn in the bathroom.  But he had; as clearly as if the kid had been right next to him.

"Jack, I don't know what's going on.  I've had some minor problems lately, with my senses.  Things smell stronger than normal.  I've heard things lately and I can't explain how I could hear them, and sounds are louder at times, too.  So loud, they hurt.  Food tastes different, somehow.  Like the spices are stronger or something.  And today.  Jack, it was twilight when I saw that
kid under the bushes.  And I saw him as clearly as I see you now.  I could actually distinguish his blue shirt in the shadows.  I don't know, maybe I'm going crazy.  Perfect time to get stuck babysitting, huh?"

"Maybe it would be a good time to get a checkup.  You know, there might be a reasonable explanation for all this.  A good doctor could probably explain it."

"Maybe.  I'll give it some thought."

At midnight, Jim convinced Jack to go up and get some sleep in his bed.  He tried to get comfortable in the chair by the sofa, but knew he wasn't going to be getting much sleep.  Jim sat in the chair in the dark and listened to Jack move around quietly before finally going to sleep.

He thought about the subject Jack had brought up and he had avoided discussing.  The kid.  *What is it about this kid?  Why do I feel so protective of him.  The only other person I've felt this way about was Stephen, and that was when we were both kids, before the old man broke that up.*

The more Jim thought about it, the more puzzled he was.  He had been around other people's kids and never had this reaction.  He knew he wasn't one of those people who thought kids were the greatest things since sliced bread. He actually had always believed they were necessary, but they weren't really interesting until they became adults.  What was it about this particular kid?

Then he remembered hearing that sudden noise in the park that had hurt his head so bad he had thought it was going to explode, and how the next thing he knew the kid was trying to help him, even though he was hurting even more
than Jim.  Maybe that was it.  He had to help this kid because he owed him.

Yeah, that was it.  He would do everything he could to help this kid and then they would be even.  He yawned and pulled the afghan over his shoulders as he watched the kid sleep.  Yeah, that was it.
  ON TO PART FOUR