Kit checked the hallway for security guards.  Finding it empty, he rounded the corner and crept silently down the hallway of the Millennium Research Foundation.  It had been ridiculously easy to find and disable their security system.  Simply snipping a few wires disabled the alarms and the security cameras were scrambled.  The guards were reduced to patrolling the building while they tried to figure out what had happened to their video feed.  It would take them about fifteen minutes to figure out that it was not a simple outage.  It would take them another ten to fifteen minutes to actually get enough manpower together to launch a thorough search, so Kit figured he had about twenty to twenty five minutes to find something that might incriminate or vindicate the Foundation in Rose's activities. 

 

Even as he was stalking the halls, Jess was back in Washington trying to hack into the Foundation's computer system.  So far, he had had no luck.  It was very unusual for Jess to have a hard time getting into a computer system.  Apparently, the Foundation had spent more on computer security than on building security.  He picked a lock and slipped into an office, pulling out a small flashlight from his back pocket and flipping it on as he closed the door.  There was a desktop computer on the desk before him.  Maybe he could help Jesse out.  If he could find some sort of password then Jesse could do the rest.  He quickly searched the desk and the unlocked files cabinets behind it.  Nothing.  There were other locked cabinets by the window.  He picked the lock on one of them and searched through it.  Just as he was about to give up, he found a post-it note on the bottom of the last drawer.  "Thank God for forgetful people," he whispered.  He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Jesse's number.  He then grabbed a file and started flipping through it.  "Jesse, got a password.  Can't promise it'll get you far but all you need is a window, right?"  He frowned at the file he held in his hand.  "Cool.  The word is 'violets.'  Hey, Jess, I have this file in my hand about some study dealing with the effects of ecstasy on the senses of human subjects.  I think we may be on the right track here.  Study's not here though.  It's in San Francisco.  Means they have installations in other places.  I'll look for more here while you try to get in.  Good luck."  He hung up.  He grabbed a few more files, holding his flashlight in his mouth as he thumbed through them. 

 

He glanced at his watch.  About ten minutes left.  There did not seem to be anything in the files about Rose.  There was nothing else about research on human senses either.  He put the files back and had just decided to try to get into another office when his pager went off, vibrating against his side to let him know he had a call.  He grabbed it and shined his light on the display.  It was Jesse and there was a 911 attached to the message.  He clipped it back to his jeans and reached once again for the phone.  He called Jesse.  "What?" he asked when Jess answered.  His best friend sounded frantic.  He had to get out, right then.  Forget it all, just get out.  "Jesse, calm down.  I have a few minutes left.  Okay!  Okay, I'm going!  You have some explaining to do though."

 

He sighed and tucked the phone away then swiftly made his way out of the office and out of the building.  When he was off the grounds, he was calling Jesse back.  Obviously, Jess had gotten into the computer system and found something bad.  He wanted to know what.

 

The phone was ringing.  The fact snuck into his sleep-fogged brain.  Pete rolled over and grabbed the phone.  "Yeah?"

 

"Pete, we're fucked.  They traced me.  I don't even know how it happened but they know it was me." Jesse's announcement cleared his mind instantly.

 

"Do you know who they are?"

 

"Yeah and it's bad.  It's real bad."

 

"Tell me."

 

"The Freedom Coalition."

 

"Fuck!  Get out of there!  Where's Kit?  Is he out?"  Pete practically fell out of bed.  The Freedom Coalition was a paramilitary organization led by a very wealthy and very ruthless businessman named George Baker.  Pete had had a run-in with Baker before.  Baker had wanted to hire the agency until he saw Kit.  The resulting confrontation ended with Pete throwing the man out of his office and Kit threatening to kill the man if he ever saw him again.  The last thing he needed was for Kit to come face to face with Baker.  As it was, Baker's organization would be coming for them.  They needed to be elsewhere.

 

"Yeah.  I just got off the phone with him.  I didn't exactly tell him the truth, just that I had been traced and that it was big trouble.  He's on his way to Alex's cabin.  I suggest we join him.  All of us."

 

"Read my mind.  I'll call Maggie.  She's wanted to go to Paris.  Now would be a good time.  I'll call Alex and Blair, too.  Oh, shit!  And Jim.  Why did it have to be Baker!?  Tell me you're out of your apartment."

 

"Of course!  You think I'm stupid?"

 

"No! Sorry.  Meet you at Alex's cabin."

 

Pete hung up the phone.  Jesse was right.  It was bad.  Pete's worst fear had come to pass.  Baker's group was strong.  What was more, they had Baker's money and his contacts with several different governments and terrorist groups backing them.  Baker had clout. 

   

Pete grabbed the packed suitcase he kept for just this kind of situation out of the closet and threw it on the bed.  He grabbed up the phone again and called Maggie even as he tossed his clothes on.  As he listened to Maggie's phone ring, he let reality sink in.  They would have to take Baker down.  They had to find not just Rose and Barnes, but Baker as well.  First they had to regroup, however.  They could do that at Alex's.  The remote cabin was the safest option they had.

 

Jim staggered into the loft.  It was nearly five in the morning.  He just wanted to collapse into bed.  The stakeout, his first since returning to duty, had been long and boring.  By the end of it, he was questioning why he had volunteered for the thing in the first place.  Two steps into the loft and he remembered why.  The emptiness of the place seemed to try to swallow him up and make him just as empty.  He hated being here.  He sighed.  A shower or bed, he asked himself.  The shower would feel good, but his tired body convinced him that bed would feel better.  He started for the stairs, but as he passed the phone table, he noticed that the light was blinking on the answering machine.  Damn inconvenient things, answering machines, but he pushed the button anyway. 

 

"Jim, it's Pete.  Watch your back.  We found out who was really backing Rose.  It's the Freedom Coalition.  Sure you have heard of 'em.  Bad news.  Thing is, they traced us when Jess hacked into their computer system.  We're going underground for a bit.  Don't worry about Blair.  I'll take care of him.  You just take care of you.  We'll be in touch."  The call disconnected and Jim found that he was sitting on the bottom step leading to his bedroom.  The Freedom Coalition.  Yes, he had heard of them.  At one time, there was a rumor that their leader, George Baker, had tried to move in and absorb Kincaid's Sunrise Patriots when Kincaid went down the second time, but the Patriots resisted.  Several of them, the upper echelon of the organization, went missing in Seattle shortly thereafter.  No trace was ever found. 

 

Jim's first impulse was to go pack his bags and head to D.C., but he knew that Pete and the others, including Blair, would be long gone before he got there.  It took several minutes, but he finally squelched the impulse and resigned himself to waiting for Pete's next call.  In the meantime, he had to trust Pete Devereaux to take care of Blair.  That was not a good feeling.  He got up and headed up the stairs, though he doubted he would be getting any sleep now.

 

It was after five in the afternoon when Simon finally arrived in D.C.  Time zones really sucked sometimes.  He hailed a cab and gave the man the address of The Devereaux Agency.  Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled to a stop.  Up ahead, Simon could see fire trucks and police.  "Is there a way around this?"

 

"But sir, this is where you wanted to go.  That is the Markham building."

 

"The one that's on fire?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Well, that just damn figures."  He pulled a twenty and a five from his wallet and gave it to the man.  He got out of the cab and headed for the first person that seemed to have some authority.  He had come this far.  He was not going home empty handed.

 

Kit was staring at him again.  Pete had managed to avoid him since Kit had arrived at the cabin just after dawn.  He feigned sleep for a while and then took an extra long shower.  By then, Kit had fallen asleep, having traveled all night.  But now he was awake and sitting in Alex's living room, glaring at him.  Kit was pissed.  That was the only word that appropriately described the man.  He had not taken the news that Baker and the Freedom Coalition was behind this whole conspiracy well.  Pete almost chuckled, but stifled it in time to keep his head on his shoulders.  Kit would no doubt take it off for him if he thought Pete found anything at all amusing right now.  Not taken it well was the understatement of the year, however, so Pete was amused at his own gentle phrasing.  Pete glanced over his shoulder at the two men in the kitchen making lunch.  Alex would protect him, he hoped; Blair was a good peacemaker.  Well, it was time to brave the wrath of Kit Chase.

 

"I know you're angry with me," he said calmly.

 

"Angry with you?  Is that what you think?  Angry with you?  You have a gift for understatement."

 

Pete did not quite stop the chuckle that time, and he instantly regretted it.  Kit was on his feet and screaming before Pete managed to straighten his face.

 

"What the hell is so damn funny, Pete?!  You think this is funny?"

 

"No!" Pete held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.  "This situation is not funny.  It's just that I was just thinking about my gift for understatement and then you said--- well, never mind.  Kit, I'm sorry."

 

"You should be.  I was there.  I could have found the bastard if you hadn't pulled the plug."

 

"I didn't pull the plug, exactly."

 

"You didn't?"

 

"No, Jess did.  They had tracked him.  He freaked.  He called me afterward."

 

"And this is your solution?  Hide in the woods?"

 

"Just to regroup.  Besides, you have been wanting to get Blair out of the city for whatever it is that you plan to teach him so here we are, out of the city."

 

"I want George Baker, Pete.  I want to take that bastard down."

 

"I know.  We will.  We don't have a choice, really.  It's him or us.  And it's gonna be him."

 

"I could have found him!" Kit spun and hit the wall behind him.

 

Pete grimaced.

 

"Hey!  I like that wall without holes, thank you!" Alex scolded from the kitchen.

 

"No, Kit, you could have gotten caught.  Then where would we be?  Jess said you only had a few minutes left before they would have started tracking you down.  Be patient.  We will finish this."

 

Pete watched as Kit closed his eyes and took several deep breaths.  When he opened his eyes again, he gave Pete an apologetic smile and shrugged.  "I hate that guy."

 

"I think the feeling's mutual, if that makes you feel better."  Pete laughed when his comment got a real smile out of his friend.

 

"Yeah, it does actually."

 

Jesse came storming into the cabin then.  "Damn it, Alex, why do you have to live out here in the boonies?  Pete, we aren't gonna get a signal out here.  The cell phones are useless.  I keep getting no service messages, no matter how I try to boost the power."

 

"Now you know why I never bother to bring my cell phone, don't you?"  Alex handed him a sandwich.

 

"Okay, that's not good."  Pete frowned then shook it off.  "But here's what we'll do.  Let's take a few days here.  Regroup, get some plans together, rest up, let Baker think he's got us on the run and then do whatever it is that we come up with—to do."

 

"You don't have a clue, do you?" Blair asked as he passed Pete a plate of sandwiches.

 

"No!  I have a clue.  I just don't have a plan.  But I will."  Pete took a sandwich and passed the plate to Kit.  "I will," he repeated softly, more to convince himself than the others.   

 

Okay, so he was wrong.  He was leaving empty-handed.  Simon had spent the rest of the day and well into the night trying to track down Peter Devereaux or anyone associated with the Devereaux Agency.  They were just simply gone.  He was not even able to find a home address for any of the men he had met.  The only good news he had gotten out of the trip was that the firemen did not find any human remains in the burned out office.  But that did not mean that Blair was not in trouble.  In fact, it meant that Blair was definitely in trouble, but what kind Simon did not know.  He had left his card with the D.C. police department and the investigator for the fire department with the request that they notify him if they found out anything. 

 

He did not relish the thought of having to tell Jim what he had found.  He boarded yet another red-eye flight that would take him back to Cascade with a heavy heart.  Jim was already an emotional wreck.  Now, he had to tell the man that his estranged best friend was missing and evidently, according to the investigator, there was foul play involved. 

 

Simon sighed as he folded himself, rather uncomfortably, into the coach class seat.  Of course, he was not obtuse enough to deny his own feelings of fear and loss.  Simon had long ago admitted to himself that he cared for Blair Sandburg.  He admired the young man, too.  No matter what life threw at Blair, he always seemed to land on his feet and managed to help a few others along the way.  Simon could only hope that Blair was going to land on his feet this time too.

 

The flight attendant was going over the emergency procedures, and though he had heard the words many, many times before, he focused his troubled mind on what she was saying so that maybe, just maybe, he could escape the feelings of doom building up in his chest.

 

He had lasted until lunch before he started searching for answers.  He figured that for him that was probably a record.  Unfortunately, at nine o'clock, Jim was still in the dark.  He had started with Pete's cell phone.  The recording informed him that the person he was trying to reach was not available.  He had left a message on the voicemail, but he had not gotten or really expected a response.  That would have been too easy.  Then he had tracked down Chad Ryan, but the FBI agent had not been able to tell him anything.  Well, that was not true.  He had told Jim about the fire that had destroyed the offices of The Devereaux Agency.  The news nearly sent Jim into a blind panic, but Ryan assured him that no one had died in the fire.  He had tried to get Pete's home number out of the agent, but Ryan had laughed at him and asked if he really thought Pete was at home waiting by the phone.  Jim shook his head.  It had been a stupid idea. 

 

After some thought, Jim had finally come to the conclusion that they had probably headed for the hills quite literally.  Morrow's cabin.  He remembered that Morrow had a remote cabin in the mountains that supposedly was hard to find and even harder to get to.  There was just one problem.  No one had ever mentioned what mountains the damn place was in.

 

Resigning himself to the fact that he was not going to find Blair right now, he decided to do some research on Baker and the Freedom Coalition.  He spent several hours going through not only Baker's own website, but also the information about Baker on other sites, both pro-Baker and anti-Baker.  He found out little that was new.  It seemed that if one knew one hate group, one pretty much knew them all.  The rhetoric was the same.  However, there was something on the League of Human Rights website that linked Baker with several prominent citizens, including a Republican Representative and several powerful CEO's.  Jim shook his head.  He made some notes and sent an email to Chad Ryan with the URL of the website.  He would have sent it to Pete, but he did not know when Pete would get it and besides, knowing Pete, he probably already knew.  He shut down the computer and sat back in his chair.

 

He glanced in the direction of his captain's office.  Simon had been a no-show, and Jim was a bit puzzled about that.  No one seemed to know where he was.  He wanted to talk to somebody, and with Simon gone, and Blair gone, there was no one for Jim to talk to.  Jim ran one hand over his face.  Of course, it would probably come as a shock to those who knew him best that he was actually willing to talk about his worries.  There was a time in his life when he would not have even entertained the thought of talking about his emotions with anyone.  It was Blair's fault that he was entertaining the thought now.  He felt a brief moment of anger at that.  How dare Blair make him open up his heart and then leave him without a friend to open it to.  But he squashed that anger.  It was his own fault.  He had driven his friend away. 

 

He had sat there long enough.  He was not accomplishing anything.  It was time to go home.  Sitting there, sifting through his head was just depressing him.  Then again, the empty loft was going to be just as depressing.  Maybe he would go out for a drink.  Or two.  Maybe he would just get sloppy drunk.  That was an idea.  He would drown those dark thoughts if it took him all night.  He grabbed his jacket and exited the bullpen.  O'Malley's Bar would be the best place.  O'Malley did not water his drinks.

 

It was three in the morning when he finally stepped out of O'Malley's to wait for the cab he had called.  Or rather, that the bartender had called for him.  Jim was drunk.  Seriously, completely, undeniably drunk.  He had not gotten this drunk since his early days in the military when he was still dumb enough to think it was cool.  Well, it was not cool now, but it was comfortable.  It was numbing.  His troubles seemed a world away now.  Blair would be furious though if he knew that Jim had gotten this drunk without someone there to help him with his senses if they got out of whack.  Wait, he thought.  He had forgotten for a moment.  There were no sentinel senses to get out of whack.  And no Blair to find out that he was drunk.  Okay, maybe Jim was not as numb as he thought.  There was some pain, right in the middle of his chest.

 

Suddenly, there was someone standing next to him.  He turned and looked into a familiar face.  It took him a minute to place it, and by the time he did, it was too late.  A new pain blossomed in his head, and he was falling.

 

The sunrise was awe-inspiring from the front porch of Alex's remote cabin.  Blair had been to the Smoky Mountains before when he was a teenager.  He had actually fallen in love with a beautiful Cherokee girl named Cecilia Lone Tree.  He shook his head.  That romance had not turned out the way he wanted.  He turned his thoughts back to the morning.  In no time, he stood mesmerized by the pastel rainbow horizon before him.  The air was crisp and scented with the clean smells of pine and morning dew.  His eyes drifted closed and he listened to the songs of the birds and the gentle rustling of leaves on the cool breeze.  It would be so easy to just let go and let the grandness of nature take him away from his troubles, if only for a while, but Kit would be out any minute now.  He had told Blair that they had work to do this morning.  He opened his eyes again, and the sky was already more blue and less rainbowed than it had been just moments before.  The blue had seeped into the pinks and yellows, completing the transformation from night to day.

 

"'So dawn goes down to day, nothing gold can stay,'" he whispered solemnly.

 

"That's Frost." Kit's voice startled him.

 

"Yeah," he said, turning to look at his new friend.

 

"I like that one."

 

"Not sure if I like it that much."  Blair shrugged.  "I just remember it.  It's about the loss of innocence, you know?"

 

"Yeah.  I guess that's a sore subject right now."

 

"What?"

 

"Loss of innocence."

 

Blair was aware of the bitterness that slipped into his laugh.  "I'm hardly innocent.  Naïve maybe.  Not innocent."

 

"Still.  It's a reminder."

 

"I guess."  He shrugged again.  "Anyway I like The Road Not Taken much better."

 

"It fits you."  Kit smiled at him.

 

He smiled back.  "I think it fits all of you better."

 

Kit laughed then.  "Maybe so.  Well, are you ready?"

 

"I think so."

 

"Good, come on."  Kit led the way down the steps.  "We're going to head out into the woods.  Watch me carefully.  We're going to have to get past Alex's little surprises again."

 

Blair nodded and followed him.  For several minutes, neither of them spoke.  Kit pointed out Alex's traps as they came upon them, but no words passed between them.  Finally, the silence was too much for Blair.  He had questions, and he had to ask them before he exploded.  "Where are we going exactly, and what are we going to do once we get there?"

 

"We are going to get in touch with Mother Earth, and then you are going to listen to what she has to tell you."

 

"Oooo-kay."

 

Kit grinned at his skepticism.  "You'll see.  I'm pretty sure you have done this before.  Probably all your life as a matter of fact, but you didn't know you were doing it and didn't understand the messages."

 

"You really do think that I'm a shaman?"  Blair shook his head.  "I don't think so.  I mean, Incacha said he passed the way of the shaman to me, but I don't feel it.  And Jim's the one with the visions.  I've had all of one vision, and I had to die to have it."

 

Kit was chuckling softly.  Blair was not amused, but he did not say anything.  He waited to a response.

 

"Blair, I know you're a shaman.  And nobody had to pass it to you.  You were born this way.  Okay, granted, some people can learn to touch the spiritual, but there has to be something inside that makes them receptive to it first.  And you are much more than just receptive to it, Blair.  There's power in you.  I can feel it.  I imagine this Incacha could too.  Let me guess, native guy, red face paint?"  Kit stopped walking and turned to face him.

 

"How'd you know that?"

 

"I saw him.  Led me to you.  Anyway, my granddad has a theory about all this.  He says that people born with the gift never fully let go of the spirit world when they are born into this one.  So they always walk a line between the physical world and the spirit paths, only having to step to one side or the other to walk in either.  You are one of those people.  Some people live their whole lives not understanding their natures and therefore never experience their own power.  Some people recognize it and learn to use it.  And some people use their power instinctively without ever learning to direct it or even having knowledge of it.  That's you, I think.  I was born with it, but I had to learn to use it.  I think you're going to have a much easier time of it than I did.  Truth be told, I didn't want it, and I resisted it for years.  Now you, well, given the fact that you have walked in the spirit world, all you have to do is understand and accept."

 

"You mean, dying, right?  When I died at the fountain?"

 

"Yeah, you walked in the spirit world and came back.  At some point, we all go through a rebirth.  For some of us, it's ritual, spiritual, whatever.  For you, it was an actual physical death and rebirth.  That's powerful, Blair."

 

"Understand and accept, huh?  Why do I have a feeling that that's going to be easier said than done?"  Blair frowned.

 

"That's up to you.  If you resist, it'll be hard.  If you let go, it'll happen before you know it.  This looks like a good spot."  He gestured around them at the small clearing that Blair only noticed with the gesture.

 

"What now?"

 

"Lie down."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Lie down.  Contact with the Earth will help."

 

"On the ground?"

 

"Uh, unless you can levitate, I think the ground is your only option and levitation would sort of defeat the purpose too."

 

Blair glared at him, but Kit only smirked in return.  Finally, after determining that he was not going to get out of it, he sat down and lay back.  The ground was cold, and it quickly sapped the warmth from his body.

 

"Close your eyes," Kit ordered.  Blair complied.  "Now, shut out everything but my voice and the wind.  Just listen to me and the wind."

 

"What about the birds?"

 

"No, shut them out.  Make them fade away."

 

"You sound like me talking to…"  The smile faded to a frown and Blair could not finish the sentence.

 

Kit ignored him and went on.  "In a minute, I'm going to stop talking.  When I do, you can slowly add the birds and any other sounds you can hear, acknowledge them as life, as living, then slowly turn your focus inward and hear your own body as it works, feel the life there.  Then focus down, below you, into the Earth.  Feel her, hear her and you'll understand."

 

Kit said nothing more so Blair stopped listening for him and tried to do what he said.  As he attempted to accomplish his task, he began to understand why it was so hard for Jim to control his senses.  He could not seem to get his ears to cooperate.  At first, everything was too loud and nearly broke his concentration.  Then when he tried to lower the volume, he lost too much.  He was getting frustrated.  He meditated all the time, for heaven's sake.  Why was it so hard all of a sudden?  Finally, he thought he had just right, everything in the right proportion.  It was not that different than what he had done on Alex's porch after all.

 

"Stop thinking.  Just feel and hear." Kit's voice nearly scared him into a heart attack.

 

He was right though.  Blair's mind was working too hard.  It was distracting him.  That was why it had been so difficult to achieve the meditative state he needed.  He was still doing it, too!  He sighed.  He tossed out the distracting thoughts and finally sank down into the meditation.

Part 4