It was dark, all the more so after the brief flashes of fireworks that had gone off somewhere in the distance, and his harsh breathing distressingly loud in the silence after the crackling and explosions finally ended. Someone out there, he was morbidly convinced, was celebrating their predicament.

Blair squeezed his eyes shut as his world tilted again, willing his stomach to keep its contents, or the lack of the same, down. After the spasms eased somewhat, he felt a cool, wet handkerchief placed over his eyes, and sighed with relief. Rafe was finally back, hopefully with what he had asked for. "Have you got it?" he pleaded desperately, clutching at the detective's sleeve.

Rafe sighed softly, and Blair sensed rather than saw the regretful shake of his head. "I searched the whole cell. Couldn't find anything to use as a gag."

"Your coat?" begged Blair with a hint of hysteria in his voice. Rafe stared at him, clearly horrified by the idea.

"Do you have any idea how much this costs? I can't…I mean, I…" he began to stutter, realizing that he'd revealed where his priorities lay, and quickly changed the subject. "At least he's quiet now," he started consolingly, and both he and Blair winced at the inevitable response Lady Luck gifted her tempters with.

"Row~ Row~ Row~ your boat, sailing down the stream~!" came the voice out of the darkness again, belting out the song with great gusto.

"Oh man, Rafe, why did you have to say it?" demanded Blair feebly as his stomach cramped again, and he curled up in a tight ball of pain as Rafe cringed at the off-key rendition by the enthusiastic singer, not quite able to believe the evidence of his eyes and ears. It was surreal.

"Merrily~merrily~merrily~merrily~ life is but a dream~!"

"This is a nightmare," moaned Blair in agony, as he considered voiding whatever little was left in his stomach on Rafe's nice suit…suitable retribution for getting them into this situation. As if reading his mind, Rafe hastily backed away and offered him a paper bag, which he would not have taken if he had strength to.

"Come on, relax, breathe, let the spasms pass," soothed Rafe, patting his back awkwardly.

"I'm not in labor," he managed to grit out through his teeth, but he tried to follow the instructions anyway, and got the urge to retch under control.

"My Bon~nie lies over the ocean~!" continued the voice loudly, unconcerned by the unappreciative audience. "My Bon~nie lies over the sea~!"

"Why is it," asked Blair in a tragic voice, "the two of us get poisoned by the same experimental drug, and I get this sort of reaction, while Jim gets to go on the trip of the century?"

"My Bon~nie lies over the ocean~! Oh bring back my Bon~nie to me~!"

"Uh, maybe your karma?" suggested Rafe weakly, uncertain what kind of response was expected.

"It was a rhetorical question," sighed Blair, and closed his eyes again, hoping to wake up and find it all a dream.

"Bring~ back! Bring~ back! Oh bring back my Bonnie to me~ to me~!"

"Please shut up, Jim, man, you're killing me, Jiiiiiiiiiim…" whined Blair, on the edge of hysteria. To the surprise of both, he did shut up…for all of five seconds. Then he began butchering a new song.

"Oh give me a home~ where the bu~ffaloes roam~ where the deer~ and the an~telope play~!"

"Jiiiiiiiiiiim…" he whined again, experimentally.

Another short pause. "Sing your way home~ at the close of~ the day~"

"Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim~"

"…"

"You notice there's a theme to his singing?" asked Blair in growing excitement as he attempted to sit up, forgetting his condition. He promptly threw up on Rafe's pants.

"Oh my God," said Rafe aghast, looking down at the ruins of his suit. "I'm never going to be able to pay the dry-cleaning bill…what theme?"

"Sorry man," whispered Blair contritely. "This really sucks you know?"

"Mid~pleasures~ and palaces though we may roam~!"

"What theme?" demanded Rafe, willing to grasp at any straw to end the torment.

"Be it ever so humble~ there's no~ place like Home~!"

"Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim~" whined Blair, and panted, trying to get back his breath. Then he quickly explained, before Jim could begin again.

"He keeps singing about home, you see, so maybe he is trying to get home, and needs some help, you see?" Blair blinked owlishly, and suddenly wondered what it was he wanted Rafe to see as his stomach lurched again.

"Way~ down upon the Swanee river~ far, far away."

"I think I get it," said Rafe quickly, wincing only slightly this time. Perhaps it was true that one could get used to anything, given time. He didn't want to get used to Ellison's singing. "What do you want me to do?"

"That's where my heart is tur~ning~ ever~! That's where the old folks stay~!"

"Go talk to him, give him something to focus on," muttered Blair, more out of habit than because he'd thought the problem over, being focused primarily on how upset Rafe would be if he puked on his suit a second time.

"Still~ longing for the old plan~tation~ And for the old folks at home~!" rhapsodised Jim, and Rafe shuddered at the thought that he'd have to approach him…if only he'd been the one drugged instead of Sandburg…but he had a chance to stop the damned caterwauling… Weighing the risks against the potential gain, he quickly made his decision and gathered up his courage. He took a step towards Ellison.

"All~ the world is sad~ and dreary, everywhere I roam~" came the doleful voice, cracking a little, lending credence to Sandburg's theory, or perhaps he just had difficulty hitting the high notes.

Rafe was feeling sad and dreary himself. He really didn't want to get any closer to Ellison; he would have gotten out of here if he could have, and wondered if rescue would arrive before his sanity gave out. Nevertheless, he sat beside the oblivious senior detective and tried to get his attention, wondering if it was really wise to be so close.

"Hey, Jim, can you hear me?" he called, trying to mimic the soothing cadences of Sandburg's voice, since Sandburg was the only one the guy had responded to since getting dosed.

"Oh~ darkies how my heart~ grows~ weary~ Far~ from the old~ folks at home~!"

"Come on, wake up, Jiiiiiiim~ come hoooome~" he tried whining when it drew no reaction.

"E. T. phone home," said Ellison sadly, turning towards him with lost, pain-filled puppy eyes more usually seen on his observer's face. Jackpot!

"Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim~" he whined again. "Come hooooooooome~! Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim~?"

Ellison whimpered. "E.T. phone home," he repeated.

"Man, you're getting to be as bad as Jim, Rafe," whimpered Blair from his corner. Then he hiccuped. "I wanna go home," he said mournfully after a moment's thought.

"Chief? I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," groaned Ellison. "Is Rafe wearing ruby slippers?"

"I don't know, you ask him," replied Chief fuzzily. Rafe could only stare from one to the other in disbelief. Was Sandburg finally succumbing to the drug too? He tried valiantly to refrain from imagining them singing a duet about going to see the wonderful Wizard of Oz, but it was a futile endeavor akin to trying not to think about pink elephants in tutus. Heck, if it could get him away from them before they started, he'd visit the Wizard himself.

"Are you wearing ruby slippers, Rafe?" asked Ellison pitifully.

"They don't go with my suit," he answered inanely, not knowing what else to say, in growing dread.

"You should have worn a dress," sighed Ellison, and Sandburg muttered his agreement.

"Dress and slippers are good. Click your heels, then we can all go home."

"This isn't happening," said Rafe weakly. "I'm dreaming, I'm stoned out of my mind, I'm in my bed delirious with fever, this just isn't happening!" he burst out, nearly in tears.

"Did you get any of the drug on you?" inquired Ellison solicitously. "Its effects can be rather dramatic," he warned with great seriousness.

"No biggie," declared Sandburg happily, then he took a deep breath. As did Ellison. Rafe flinched almost before they began. "The~ more~ we get together, together, together~ The~ more~ we get together, the merrier we'll be!"

Rafe did burst into tears then.

"Oh man, I think we made him cry," said Blair anxiously, breaking off the song.

"It's okay, Chief," Jim said comfortingly. "He's just under a lot of stress; he'll feel better in a minute."

Blair cheered up immediately, accepting the offered comfort. "Maybe he's feeling left out. I know, we'll let him choose the next song!"

Two pairs of puppy eyes focused vaguely in his direction with expectant expressions.

"I really hate you two," Rafe said earnestly.

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