Rewards of Virtue

 

Danae

 

Disclaimer: Not mine.  No money being made here…. Just having fun! 

 

Warnings/Notes:  Spoilers for S2 and TsbyBS.  Sequel to Wages of Sin.  This will make no sense at all if you don’t read that one first.  Crossover with my original characters.   Rated somewhere between PG-13 and R for violence and language. 

 

Thanks to my wonderful betas, Susn, Lorri, Catherin, and Debbie.  And to everyone who reads my stories and encourages me to keep writing!

 

Rewards of Virtue

 

Jesse Riviera stared at the wall across from him.  He hated waiting.  Mainly because waiting gave a person too much time to think.  He listened to the intercom system page yet another doctor to the ER and thought about everything that had happened.  Kit had left him behind when he took Blair to see Jim Ellison and Jess still wanted to strangle him for it.  Blair had been so angry when he—when he what?  He did not even know what to call it, but Blair had been in a catatonic state since they had rescued him from the military compound where he and Jim Ellison had been held.  Then he was just "back" and pissed off.  Jesse had had to get a damn cab, and by the time he got there, it was all over.  Not that he would have wanted to witness what Kit had described to him.  He would have just liked to have been there to support his friend.  He had gotten there just in time to see Blair come out of 852 Prospect and collapse on the sidewalk.  Pete and Kit were right behind him, and it was decided that maybe Blair needed to get checked out by a doctor.  Blair had a different opinion, but Pete overruled him.  They had come to a compromise when Blair said that he would see his doctor and no one else.  So now, they waited.  Kit was pacing, and Pete was on the pay phone.  Jess had no idea who he was talking to, but his boss looked concerned.

 

Dr. Orenda Milap frowned as she examined her patient.  "Well," she said finally, "you're malnourished and suffering from exhaustion.  You look like you've been through a meat grinder, but your x-rays are fine, and I don't see any sign of internal injury.  There are several drugs in your system, one of which I can't identify, which are probably adding to the feelings of fatigue you're experiencing.  When they get out of your system, you should feel a little better."  She shook her head.  "What am I going to do with you, Blair?  Sweetpea, you need to find a less dangerous line of work."

 

Blair gave her a sad smile then lowered his eyes to the floor once more. 

 

"Want to tell me why Jim's not with you and who those people are out there in the waiting room?"

 

"Not really, Orenda.  They're friends, though.  I don't feel like talking about it."

 

Orenda sighed.  "Okay.  Well, you're going to be sore from the bruises.  I want you go home and—"  She did not miss the wince at the word home.  "And sleep, a lot.  And eat.  You've lost a lot of weight.  You were thin to start with.  Now you look like one of those starving girls we see in magazines and on fashion runways.  Look at me."  He did not raise his head.  "Blair Sandburg, look at me."  He did.  "I don't know what's happened because you won't tell me, but I do know that it had to be pretty traumatic.  That man out there, the slick one, he gives me some pathetic story about line of duty, and I saw the press conference, but I know a smoke screen when I see one.  The fact that Jim is not here and you don't want him here worries me."

 

"I'm okay, Orenda.  Thanks for coming in to check on me.  Sorry I called you at home."

 

She rolled her eyes.  "Trying to change the subject?  Okay, I'll leave it alone.  But I need to see you in a week."

 

"I won't be here in a week, Orenda."

 

"And just where will you be?"  Orenda placed her hands on her hips and gave him her best withering gaze.

 

"Probably D.C.  I've taken a new job with the guy out there, the one you called the slick one."  There was almost a smile on Blair's face.

 

"Oh dear."

 

"I'll be okay."

 

"You'd better be.  I think I need to have a talk with that young man before you leave here with him."

 

Her young patient did smile then.  "I promise to be careful."

 

"Yes, you always do promise to be careful and then you end up right back here mere weeks later.  Blair, who is that man?"

 

"He's a friend, Orenda, I swear."

 

"You wait here," she ordered.  She stalked out of the exam room, and she could hear him calling her name, but she ignored him.  She walked out to the waiting room and headed straight for the men that had come in with Blair.  They all stood. 

 

"How's Blair?" one of them asked.

 

"He'll be all right with a lot of rest and some good food.  Now, I have a few questions.  Who are you?"

 

The slick one smiled at her and offered his hand.  "I'm Peter Devereaux.  This is Kit Chase and Jesse Riviera."  He indicated the two men with him in turn.  Orenda did not accept his hand.  He simply raised it to his short dark hair and ruffled it, blushing a little as he did. 

 

"Orenda is an Indian name, right?"

 

Orenda turned to glower at Kit Chase.  "Yes.  It is."

 

He smiled at her and she gave him the same look that she gave Blair whenever he tried a little misdirection to placate her.  He had the grace to look properly scolded.  "Thought so."

 

"Look, Blair is a favorite patient of mine.  I understand that he is leaving town with you.  Just what is this new job he's taking with you?"

 

"We're a private investigation and security consultation firm in D.C.  Blair is going to be our new—" the man paused, "researcher."

 

"Right."  She narrowed her eyes at him.  She was not as stupid as he obviously thought she was.  Not by a long shot.

 

"I can give you one of our cards."  He started digging in his coat pocket.

 

"No, that's quite all right."  She turned back to Kit Chase.  "You take care of him."

 

He blinked, but then nodded.  "Yes, ma'am."

 

"Fine.  I'll go sign his release."  She was still not happy, but it was out of her hands. 

 

"What was that about?" Pete asked Kit when the tiny doctor was gone. 

 

"She's a medicine woman."

 

"Kinda got that, Kit.  Doctor being the title in front of her name and all."

 

"Stop being dense, Pete.  You know what I'm talking about."

 

"Great, you're getting weird again." 

 

Kit only laughed at him. 

 

Fifteen minutes later, they were leaving the hospital.  Blair was silent as they drove to the airport.  Pete tried several times to engage him in conversation, but he would only nod or shake his head.  Finally, after a signal from Kit to give up, he stopped and concentrated on his driving.  Once at the airport, Pete turned in the rental car and picked up the tickets he had purchased while waiting for Blair at the hospital.  Now, they only had to relax in one of the airport's many little restaurants and wait for their boarding call.  They sat down and a waitress came over.  Kit ordered vegetable plates for himself and Blair, who did not seem inclined to talk to anyone.  Jesse ordered a cheeseburger and Pete ordered a double vodka straight up.  Kit gave him a sharp look, which he promptly ignored.  He needed that vodka.  He had a lot of thinking to do. 

 

He did not regret offering Blair a job.  He had no doubt that the man would be an asset to his company once he had some time to recover physically and emotionally from everything that had happened to him, but he wondered if Blair would be happy in his new job.  He took in the sad, sullen man across the table from him and sighed. 

 

Then there was the problem of Jim Ellison.  Jim was a mess.  Pete felt partially responsible.  After all, Jim's best friend was leaving town with him rather than trying to salvage their friendship.  Yet, he still did not regret the job offer.  Okay, that one was going in circles.   Moving on to his next problem.

 

Last but certainly not least, the more Pete thought about everything that had happened, the more convinced he was that their problems were not over.  Ron MacNamara was not the suicidal type.  The man had been afraid.  He had told Pete that he was not at the top of the ladder.  Ron had said that someone else was calling the shots and Pete had seen fear in his eyes.  He had ignored that fear at the time.  Ron was a coward in his best moments after all.  But looking back, Pete had to wonder if he had dismissed it too quickly.  Thing was, he now knew that the Pentagon and the CIA were unaware of some key points of the whole mess.  All of that added up to a third party involved, which meant anyone from a foreign government to any number of terrorist groups.  He had called Banks while they waited in the hospital and told the man of his suspicions.  Banks assured him he would pass the information on to Jim.  In the meantime, they were all in danger and they had no idea from who or where.  Yes, he needed that vodka.  In fact, he might need the whole bottle.

 

There were too many people, way too many people and not enough air.  He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.  Someone touched him and something hit the table in front of him.  He jumped and his eyes flew open.  The waitress had already moved away.  He looked down at the vegetable plate she had plopped in front of him and suddenly felt very ill.

 

"Bathroom," he choked out before he stumbled away from the table.  There were too many people in his way!  He shoved his way through them despite the fact that they seemed to try to keep him from his destination.  He slid as he rounded the corner, slamming into the door of the men's room and nearly falling through it.  He barely made it to the stall before the gagging started.  Unfortunately, there was not much on his stomach to vomit and he spent several agonizing minutes gagging and choking on the dry heaves.  He fell back onto the cold tile and a wet towel appeared in front of his face.  He looked up to see the shaman standing over him.  Kit was his name, he had learned.  Blair tried to smile, but he knew his attempt was not very successful.  Kit knelt beside him and grasped his shoulder.  "Sorry," Blair whispered.

 

Kit shook his head.  "No reason to be.  Okay now?"

 

"I think so." 

 

The man stood and offered Blair a hand.  He accepted it and let Kit do most of the work to pull him up.  It was then that he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirrors.  He let go of Kit's hand and moved toward his reflection.  One hand rose of its own accord to touch what was left of his hair.  It was stupid.  He had known that the hair was gone.  He could tell, after all.  This was the first time he had really had to look at it though.  His chest hurt as he grasped one short curl and pulled it out straight to look at the length.  The man in the mirror looked as if he was about to cry, but Blair ordered him not to; it was only hair.  Do not be so stupid, he ordered.  It does not matter, he told the stranger reflected back at him through the glass.  He almost had his reflection convinced when Kit spoke.

 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop them."

 

He was shaking suddenly and his knees felt weak.  "Damn it!  Just hair, damn it!  It doesn't matter!"  But his face was wet.  "It's not important!  It's over!  All over!  Get over it!" he screamed at the man in the mirror.  But the man in the mirror was not listening.  He had to make him listen.  He would make him listen.  Then there was glass everywhere and he was on the floor with Kit practically wrapped around him. 

 

"Let it go," the man whispered.  "I know it hurts, but you have to let it go, Blair.  You can't move on until you do.  You've faced it.  Now, you have to let it go."

 

"Everything okay?"  Pete was in the doorway and Blair tried to turn his head away.  His new boss was going to fire him for being nuts if he did not manage to pull himself together.  Then where would he go? 

 

Kit answered for him.  "He's okay.  Mirror's seen better days, but Blair will be just fine."

 

"Then I'll just find somebody and pay for the mirror."  Pete disappeared.

 

"Great.  I'm sorry.  Bet he's rethinking that job offer."

 

Kit laughed.  "Nah, it's okay.  He's used to it.  Hell, he's made a few messes of his own from time to time."

 

"What is wrong with me?!"  Now he was whining, and he hated that.

 

"You're just having a run of really bad days.  It'll get better."

 

"It's over with Jim.  God, that hurts, just to say it, you know?  He was my best friend!  The best friend I ever had.  Man, what does that say about my life?"

 

Kit finally let him go.  "You can't dwell on that."  Once again, Kit helped him up.

 

"I miss him already.  Is that crazy?"

 

"No."

 

"But I can't go back.  I can't.  Not now."

 

"Maybe later?"

 

"No.  How could I ever trust him again?"

 

"That's a question only you can answer."

 

"I know."

 

"Can you eat something now?"

 

Blair shrugged.  "Maybe."  Kit motioned for him to lead the way out of the bathroom.  He was nearly knocked down by a frantic man as he opened the door, however.

 

"Sir!  Are you all right?  I am so sorry about the state of the bathroom.  I can assure you that we do try to maintain a safe environment.  I can not apologize enough for your accident."

 

Blair was confused.  He looked back at Kit who was barely containing his laughter, then looked past the strange man to see Pete put a finger to his lips as a sign for him to go along with the story.  Blair glared at him.  Oddly enough, Peter Devereaux managed to look both pleased with himself and sheepishly guilty at the same time.

 

"I'm fine, sir.  Don't worry about it."

 

"Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you?  An ice pack?  Do you need to see a doctor?"

"I'm fine, really.  Accidents happen," Blair told him. 

 

"If you're sure?"

 

"Absolutely."

 

The man looked visibly relieved.  "Again, sir, I'm very sorry.  I will have someone in here immediately to clean this room."  He hurried away then.

 

"Let me guess.  You didn't have to pay for that mirror," Kit accused.

 

"Hey, I offered!"

 

"Yes, I'm sure you did." Kit shook his head.

 

"That was so wrong."  Blair frowned.

 

"Great, I've hired myself yet another conscience," Pete moaned as he gently pulled Blair out of the bathroom by his jacket.  "Let's go, Dudley Do-Right.  Let's eat and get the hell out of Dodge."

 

"Just how many drinks did you have while we were gone, Pete?" Kit asked as they made their way back to the table.

 

"A few, Mom."

 

Blair almost smiled but just as the corners of his mouth started to give in to the impulse, a stray thought chased it away.  He had walked away from his sentinel.  What would Jim do now?

 

"Dr. Rose, I must say that I am sorely disappointed in your lack of progress."  Robert listened to the man on the other end of the phone line.

 

"Mr. Baker, I assure you that I am doing my best for your organization here, but I am without a true guide for Alex."

 

"And the Jew is your only choice?  Surely, you can come up with someone else."

 

"I hate to tell you this, but Blair Sandburg is the only true, natural guide that I am aware of.  We have covered this before.  I realize where your organization stands regarding minorities, but if you want a fully functional sentinel then we need Sandburg.  At least until we are able to identify other guides."

 

"Then go find him.  I don't care how, but you get Barnes operational.  Or get me Ellison.  At least he's not some wild nutcase."

 

"I would still need Sandburg."  Robert rubbed his forehead.  Why had he gotten involved with this man and his militant organization?  Oh yes, money, a lot of money.  Still, it hardly seemed worth the risk and aggravation now as he tried to make the man look past his prejudices to accept what was necessary.

 

"Then do it, man, before I decide that you've become a liability and find someone who can get me results.  Need I remind you what happened to our friend, Ron?"

 

"No, sir."  One step forward, two steps back, Rose thought to himself.  He had finally gotten through to the man, on one hand.  On the other hand, the man was threatening to kill him.  Or rather have him killed.  He would never do his own dirty work.

 

"How is the other part of our venture going?"

 

"I can report some progress there, Mr. Baker."  For all the good it would do in the short run.  Right now, he needed a guide.

 

"Good.  If this works, Rose, the Freedom Coalition will have the means to secure a better future for all real Americans.  You have to do whatever is necessary to make sure it works."

 

"Yes, sir, I understand.  I just have to find Blair Sandburg.  He has apparently left Cascade." 

 

"Find Ellison.  Take him and Sandburg will come to you, right?  They are friends, are they not?"

 

"They were, Mr. Baker, but in our attempt to separate Sandburg from Ellison, we may have destroyed that."

 

"You are giving me excuses, Rose.  I hate excuses."  The man hung up on him.

 

Robert sighed.  "Fanatic," he muttered.  He did not happen to share the views of the Freedom Coalition, but Baker had been willing to fund his research.  All of his research.  The discovery of Alex Barnes had changed everything, as far as Robert was concerned.  They could have more than one sentinel to study.  With two sentinels, one male and one female, there was the potential to breed more sentinels.  With all that Blair Sandburg had learned, they could find or create more guides.  Holloway had been Max's idea, the old man still believing that the Army would be the sole benefactor of their work, but that had played right into Robert's hands.  Sandburg would be needed to salvage Barnes. 

 

Yet, when he presented his ideas, his government had been less than receptive.  They refused to sanction Robert's acquisition of Barnes and had wanted to pull the plug on the entire operation, but MacNamara had made arrangements for him to continue his work.  Robert was thankful for those select few that had things they had to hide and yet strings that they could pull.  He should have asked why MacNamara was so willing to help, but at the time, he had not cared.  Ron then brought in the Freedom Coalition and Baker's money to fund what the government would not.  Still, he had not cared.  Senile Max Adler and the very soldiers that guarded Robert's research were none the wiser to the real work that was going on.  He had free reign and all the money he could want.  At one time, that had been enough.  Now, he was not so sure.  After all, he could make more money if he could manage to get rid of the Freedom Coalition and go freelance with Alex once Sandburg got her functioning again.  That had been one of his original desires.  Problem was, he was firmly in the grasp of Baker and the Coalition, and Baker would kill him before he would let Robert walk away.  He rubbed his aching temples and sighed.  It would be complicated, but he would find a way.

 

One week later

 

"Are you sure you want to do this?"  Pete asked his newest employee. 

 

Blair Sandburg did not look at his face.  Instead, his focus was on the files that Pete held in his hands.  "I'm sure.  I want to know everything.  I need to know, Pete."

 

Pete nodded.  "Can I show you something else first?"

 

Blair rolled his eyes at him.  "Do you have to?"

 

"I'd like to."

 

"Fine."  It was more a sigh than a word.  "What is it?"

 

"Okay, I've been waiting to tell you this until I thought you could deal with it.  Now, I suppose since you're ready to deal with this stuff."  He indicated the files he held.  "Maybe you're ready for what I have to say."  He took a deep breath.  "All right, here goes.  Before MacNamara died, I cut a deal with him for my silence.  He gave me a substantial sum of money to keep my mouth shut about his part in your abduction."

 

"What?"  Blair looked appalled, and Pete started wishing he had waited for Kit to get back into the office before he started this.  Kit had a knack for smoothing ruffled feathers, and Pete had a feeling he was about to ruffle lots and lots of Blair's feathers.

 

He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out the bankbook.  He handed it to Blair.  "It was when we thought you might need at least semi-permanent care.  I took it for you, Blair.  Then when Senator Adams heard what had happened—"

 

"Your version, you mean?"

 

"Yes, my version.  He felt you deserved some compensation for your ordeal." 

 

Blair was staring at the book, but he had not opened it.  He shook his head suddenly and held the book out to Pete.  "I can't take it.  It's not right."

 

"The hell it's not!" Pete exclaimed.  "You listen to me, Blair Sandburg.  You deserve every dime of that money and more after what they did to you."

 

"It's blood money, sort of.  You know what I'm saying?"  He threw the book on the table when Pete did not take it.

 

"Yeah, and it was your blood, so it's your money!  Take it, Blair.  Pay off your student loans.  Use it to get your doctorate.  Blow it on fast women and good wine.  Who cares!  Just take it.  And there is one other thing.  I spoke to Senator Adams and he is more than willing to write you a recommendation to Georgetown University.  Think about it.  You could get your doctorate from Georgetown.  Wouldn't that just tweak the nose of the good Chancellor Edwards of Rainier?  Blair, I know that you say you want to work here, but why?"

 

"What do you mean why?"

 

"Why do you want to work here?  You want my theory?"

 

"Not really."

 

"Tough.  I'm the boss.  I get to spew my theories any time I want.  I think that you're here because you don't know where else to be.  Blair, this job is not that different from being a cop and I don't think that would have been your first choice of careers either.  In fact, our work is even more violent.  You'll still have to carry a gun and know how to use it.  You don't want that.  I've let this slide for a while because you've been learning the office and the computer systems, but it's time to move on from that.  I'm trying to give you options, Blair.  You can have your doctorate.  You can be an anthropologist again.  Or you can be a man of leisure.  Trust me, there's enough there to relax on for quite some time.  Or you can learn the trade here and work for me.  I just want the choice to be yours, freely, without reservation."

 

Blair sighed then gave him a half-smile.  He reached for the book and opened it hesitantly.  "Holy shit!"

 

Pete laughed.  "Dinner's on you tonight, right?"

 

"Funny.  I can’t believe you did this."

 

"Well, somebody had to do something.  So, are you pissed?"

 

"Not exactly.  Georgetown?"

 

"Yep, Georgetown.  I even think that I can speed things up for you—"

 

"No, thanks, but that's fine.  You've done enough already."

 

"How come you, Kit and Alex can all make that sound like an insult rather than a compliment?" Pete grinned at him.

 

"It's a gift.  Now, give me the files."

 

"Don't mince words, do you?"

 

"What would be the purpose of that?  Hand them over, Pete.  I'm not going to give up on this."

 

Pete placed the files down on the table in front of Blair.  "It's ugly.  I hope you're prepared for it.  I'll leave you alone for a while.  If you need me, I'll be in my office." 

 

Blair nodded, never taking his eyes off the folders.

 

 

Three hours later, Blair closed the file that Alex Morrow had stolen from MacNamara's office and sat back in the chair.  He was not sure whether he wanted to cry, scream or laugh.  He scooped both folders up from the table and headed across the office lobby to Pete's door.  He knocked lightly then opened the door.  He peeked in.

 

"Come on in, Blair," Pete said, a thoughtful look on his face.

 

"I'm finished with these." He told him as he entered the office and walked over to Pete's desk to place them on one corner. 

 

"And?  Are you okay?"

 

"I don’t know.  I'm not sure.  It's all so confusing.  You know, Rose said I was handpicked.  They had a profile and all that.  At least that what he told me, but Pete, there is no profile.  Not really.  There's nothing in there that wouldn't apply to hundreds, thousands of people.  They wanted someone in the fields of Social Science, so he could understand the research.  They wanted someone young, so the person could be trained rather than retrained.  They wanted someone of above average to genius level intelligence.  The only reason it ended up being me was because I read Burton's research and was interested in the concept, and I just happened to live in the same town as Jim, which is pretty coincidental when you think about it.  Why would he want me to believe that I was handpicked from some 'special' profile?  It hardly seems important at all.  Wait, yes it does.  It was important that we believed that I was the one, possibly the only one, that fit.  It would obligate me.  It would obligate Jim. It would make me believe that I had to help because no one else could, and it would make Jim feel responsible for me."

 

Pete was nodding.  "Smart."

 

"Evil.  That's what it is.  But Adler hated me and didn't want me.  Guess Rose didn't plan on that.  Or hell, maybe he did.  Maybe once he found out about Alex, he intended for me to work with her and that other guy to work with Jim."

 

"I don't think Rose cared what happened to Jim, Blair.  He said that Adler and the Army could have Jim.  He was more interested in getting Barnes ready for MacNamara and whoever was backing him," Pete explained.

 

Blair frowned.  "And my grants and scholarships, over half of them came from Rose apparently.  That really sucks."

 

"Sorry."

 

So was Blair, but that was not what had hurt the most.  "Did you know Jim was planning on leaving?  There's a plane ticket in there."  He pointed to the folder.

 

"It's not what it looks like.  Jim had two safety deposit boxes, one for him and one for you.  They found his.  They didn't find yours.  He had separate ones in case they got to him before they got to you.  You could still get away."

 

"Then he didn't—he wasn't going to leave me behind?  Oh god, I was blaming him for it all.  But he didn't know about me, did he?  The file isn't clear on that, but he really didn't know."  Blair was stunned.  He had thought that Jim knew about the whole thing, that when his repressed memories came back, he had known that Blair had been chosen to be his guide. 

 

"No, Blair, he didn't."

 

"But he knew they were coming at some point, and he didn't tell me.  He should have told me!"  He knew he was practically shouting.

 

"I agree."

 

Blair held up his hands and took a deep breath.  "I'm not going to get into that now.  I'm putting that to the side right now."

 

"Okay."  There was a slight chuckle in Pete's voice.  Blair glared at him.  "Sorry," Pete said hurriedly.  "It's just that you sounded like Kit just then."

 

Blair forgave him and shrugged before continuing.  "And MacNamara.  That file is even worse!  A sentinel breeding program!  The guy was a monster."

 

"Blair, Rose was working for MacNamara.  They were in this together.  It's just that Rose's file is the cleaned-up for Adler's and the company's use version.  I have no doubt in my mind that Rose is going to use Alex Barnes to make him some little sentinels if he figures out a way.  I also know that if he manages to fix her senses and tighten the loose screws in her head, he'll use her skills on the black market."

 

"That's sick."

 

"Well, that's the lay of the land, my friend."

 

"We have to stop him."

 

"Yeah, I think we do.  I have some folks poking around for information on Rose but so far, no luck.  I'll let you know when I have something."

 

"Wait, you said something else.  You said, Adler's and the company's use version.  I thought the CIA was responsible."

 

"To a point.  But Blair, even the CIA would think twice before setting up a human breeding camp.  Senator Adams told me that they seemed a little too stunned when he confronted them with that file.  The old man is annoying as hell, but one reason he is so annoying is because he's a good judge of character.  He says the CIA higher-ups were unaware of that particular part of Ron's little scheme at least.  They knew about Jim and the project and ended up admitting to its questionable legality, but not the breeding thing.  They even seemed to think that you came along willingly.  They didn't seem to know that you were taken against your will.  And the Pentagon was even more unaware of what was going on.  Adler was crazy, a loose cannon.  He'd lost it and Rose took advantage of it.  I think Rose and MacNamara were working for somebody else.  It's the only thing that makes sense.  Ron was free and clear with me.  I wasn't going to hand him over to Adams because he agreed to help me.  So, the way I figure it, he was either too scared of his employers to give them a shot at him and offed himself or they offed him for caving to me and made it look like suicide.  Ron thought a little too highly of himself to commit suicide just because I kicked his ass at his own game.  No, Ron would have come after me and got his revenge or at least tried to.  We are not out of the woods yet, Blair."

 

Blair gathered up the files again and got up.

 

"Where are you going?" Pete asked him.

 

"To go through these one more time.  There's got to be something in here that will give them away.  Some little detail not hidden just right or something.  My first time through these, I was too busy being mad and—well, hurt to be objective.  This time, I'm going to find what they were hiding and then we are going to nail Rose's ass to the wall."  He turned and left then, vaguely aware of Pete's incredulous eyes and slack jaw as the man stared at him.

 

Simon Banks stood at his window, the one that looked out over the bullpen, and watched Jim Ellison.  Jim had returned to work that morning.  Simon had tried to dissuade him, but he was determined.  So far, he had shifted papers and files from one corner of his desk to the other several times, stared at his computer, taken a few calls and just generally looked lost.  Simon sighed.  He looked down at the file in his hand.  While it was true that he had wanted Jim to take a little more time for himself before he returned to work, he had finally determined that Jim needed something to do if he was going to be on duty.  It would, at least, occupy his mind.  Slapping the file against his leg, he made up his mind.  He strode out of his office, motioning to Joel Taggert as he made his way to Jim's desk.  "Jim, I have case for you.  Joel will be riding with you on this.  There's been a series of robberies, all high tech stuff.  A security officer was killed during the last one so it was kicked to us this morning.  I need you to head over to Watson Technology and see what you can find out." 

 

"Sure, Captain." He stood and reached for the file.

 

"Jim, are you sure you're ready?" Simon touched his arm.

 

"Yeah.  I need to do something, sir."

 

Simon nodded and relinquished the folder in his hand.  Joel was waiting quietly near the door to Simon's right.  Simon nodded to him and Joel returned the nod with a small smile.  Jim grabbed his coat and followed Joel out of the door of the bullpen, leaving his captain and friend to wonder if he was doing the right thing.  In the meantime, there was something he wanted to do.  Something that he had wanted to do for a week.  He turned and walked back into his office and picked up the phone.  He dialed the number and waited for someone at The Devereaux Agency to answer the phone.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he hung up the phone and sat back in his desk chair. Despite Devereaux's news that he was certain that there was a dangerous third party still out there to be dealt with, he had been somewhat encouraged by Devereaux's other news.  Blair was doing well, and he was thinking.  Devereaux had told him that Blair had gone through both Rose's and MacNamara's files and realized that Jim had not set him up.  Simon could only hope that this was the first step toward Blair forgiving Jim and coming home.  Yes, Jim had made a mistake or two, but, much to Simon's relief, he had not intentionally hurt Sandburg. 

 

Perhaps Blair only needed a little push.  Simon's eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed in thought.  Perhaps if Blair could be reminded that he had other friends in Cascade willing to help him, he would come on home and try to work things out with Jim.  He picked up the phone once again.  This time, when he hung up, he had reservations on a flight to Washington, D.C. in the morning, if one could call 4:40am morning.  He had stayed out of this quite long enough.  Blair was his friend and so was Jim.  Neither of them could be happy with the way things had ended.  Jim felt as if he did not have the right to search out Blair, so be it.  Simon, however, figured that he had every right.  After all, he cared for the kid, and he wanted his friend back.  That was right enough for Simon.  

 

Alex Morrow yawned as he walked into the office.  It was getting quite late and he had spent the entire day trying to hunt down information on Ron MacNamara's activities over the last several months.  He ran one hand through his dark hair.  Perhaps it was time for a haircut.  He had been wearing it a bit long lately but it was nearly touching his shoulders now.  That was a bit much.  Soon, he would look like Jesse and Kit.  Well, not like Kit.  The man wore his hair almost all the way down his back.  Alex shook his head and smiled to himself. 

 

He was just about to knock on his boss's door when he noticed Blair Sandburg in one of the other rooms.  Sandburg seemed completely engrossed in what he was reading.  Alex had met the younger man when he had picked up his co-workers and boss at the airport.  Alex saw in Blair Sandburg the same sadness and confusion that he had seen in Jim Ellison when he was here.  Yet, Sandburg was not content to sit back and let others deal with the problems.  He was like a man obsessed.  He had learned the computer system in less than a day.  He had absorbed every word that Pete had said, learned every aspect of the mundane operations of the agency in only a few days.  Then something strange happened. 

 

Pete started stalling.  Sandburg should have been turned over to one of the field operatives for training.  He had even volunteered to take Sandburg on.  Pete had looked horrified.  Alex would have been insulted had he not known that Sandburg had a phobia of guns.  He realized that Pete was worried that maybe Alex's brand of training would have been a little overwhelming.  But that did not explain why Pete was still dancing around the subject.  Both Jesse and Kit had offered to train him as well.  Jesse would probably be perfect in Alex's opinion.  Sandburg seemed to pick up the computer system so fast, after all.  At any rate, Sandburg was still puttering around the office most of the day, offering to do this or that for whomever was present, only to have Pete give him some trivial task. 

 

Now though, Sandburg seemed very intense and focused on what he was looking at, and Alex could not help but wonder what had him so enthralled.  He redirected his steps to the small conference room where the younger man sat.  "Hello," he greeted as he entered.

 

Sandburg jumped a little and jerked his eyes up to Alex's.  "Oh, hi Alex."

 

"I didn't mean to startle you."

 

"That's okay.  I wasn't paying attention."

 

"I could see that.  What are you looking at so hard?"

 

"The files about—well, Jim and me.  And Alex Barnes, too.  I'm trying to find some clue to where Rose might have gone and who might have been backing him besides the CIA and the Pentagon.  I mean, we have already determined that the vast majority of the Pentagon was oblivious, right?"

 

"Right."

 

"And we now know that the CIA was not aware of the breeding program."

 

"So they say."

 

"You think otherwise?"

 

Alex shrugged as he pulled out a chair and sat down across from Sandburg.  "I don't know.  I don’t put anything past governments anymore."  He leaned forward and reached for one of the files. "May I?"

 

"Sure, I could use all the help I could get.  Anyway, Pete thinks that they didn't know so he thinks that there's a third player and that that third player may be sheltering Rose and Barnes now."

 

"Okay, then let's see what we can find."

 

Two hours later, Sandburg shoved the open file away and put his head down on the table.  "There's nothing.  How can there be nothing?"

 

Alex sighed and closed the file in front of him.  "Maybe we aren't looking in the right places.  We've poured over every piece of paper in here."

 

"I guess I should have realized that they wouldn't have been careless enough to leave clues in here.  I mean, even MacNamara never mentions a name and this was his personal file!" Blair sat up and Alex saw anguish in the blue eyes that begged him silently to find some answer somewhere.

 

"Well, Pete thinks he was pretty scared of his employer.  He wouldn't finger them even on the threat of taking the fall himself when Pete confronted him.  He would make sure that his written records wouldn't give them away either.   Okay, perhaps we were asking too much to expect a name or blatant reference.  What if the reference is there but not in a form we can see?  We need Jesse."  Alex reached for the phone.

 

Sandburg stopped him before he could lift the receiver.  "Alex, it's after midnight.  Even Pete's gone home.  I guess it can wait until morning.  Let's go home.  Kit is probably getting worried about me by now."

 

"I doubt it.  Kit's probably not home himself yet.  Pete sent him to Baltimore to check out Rose's last employer.  He didn't tell you?"

 

"I didn't get to see him today.  Who was Rose's last employer?"

 

"Well, I use employer for lack of a better word.  Let's just say that he was getting quite a bit of money from these people for what his income tax records called contracted independent research.  Someplace called Millennium Research Foundation.  And if it didn't seem fishy enough, we are having a hell of a time trying to track down the actual owner.  Even Jesse couldn't find a clear trail, so Pete sent Kit to snoop around.  And Jess is still trying to get into their computer system.  It's closed up tight, though."

 

"Millennium Research?  Where have I heard that before?  Wait!"  He grabbed the discarded file and began to frantically search through it.  He snatched up one sheet of paper and waved it at Alex.  "Here it is!  I got a grant from them, two actually.  This may be it, Alex.  It's gotta be it!  Millennium Research."

 

"Good.  Then maybe Kit will bring us something back."

 

"Yeah, maybe."  Sandburg seemed to deflate then.

 

"You're tired.  I'll drive you to Kit's."

 

"Thanks." 

 

"No problem, it's on the way."

 

"I thought you lived out in the woods somewhere."

 

"I do when I can.  When I'm working, I have an apartment here in the city.  It's not as secure as I'd like. It's a locked building and has alarms, but I'd rather trust my own kind of security.  Of course, the other tenants wouldn't appreciate my idea of security very much."

 

Sandburg quirked an eyebrow at him but did not ask.  He just slipped his jacket on and followed Alex out of the office.  They were in the elevator heading down to the garage when Sandburg finally spoke again. 

 

"Would you teach me to handle a gun?  I'm not completely without experience.  I have fired a gun, you know.  I just need to get comfortable with it."

 

Alex smiled and met his eyes frankly.  "I can't teach you comfort.  What I can teach you is skill.  Perhaps with skill will come comfort.  Are you sure you're ready?"

 

"Gotta do it sometime.  Besides, maybe if I take the initiative, Pete will stop hovering over me like a mother hen."  There was almost a real smile on his face.

 

Alex laughed.  "Pete is a mother hen.  He does that to us all from time to time."

 

"Well, he's as bad as J—never mind."

 

"I met your Jim, you know?"

 

"He's not my Jim," Sandburg muttered bitterly.

 

"You know what I mean.  Anyway, he seemed like a fairly decent fellow.  A little slow on the uptake but not a bad sort."

 

"No, he's not a bad sort."

 

"You know, one of the drawbacks to being human is our enormous capacity for making mistakes.  Devastating mistakes, sometimes.  But one of our human virtues is that most of us have the capacity for forgiveness.  Some of us have more of a capacity than others.  Me?  I'm still working on mine.  What about you?"

 

Sandburg stared at him for a long moment before closing his eyes and swallowing hard.  When he opened his eyes again, he shrugged a little and said, "I guess I'm working on mine too."