Alex stared at his new friend and student.  The demolitions lesson had gone well.  Blair had not been too shocked by Alex's arsenal.  Add that to the fact that he was finally able to keep his eyes open while shooting and was hitting the target much of the time, and Alex was able to believe for the first time that Blair just might make it with the agency.  He was not ready for fieldwork, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was learning.  Of course, the improvement could be attributed to Blair's absolute determination to help Ellison despite everything they had done to each other.  Kit might be determined to blame it all on Ellison, but even Blair admitted that they had both made serious mistakes and was carrying around quite a bit of guilt.  At the moment, however, Blair simply stared off into the woods, one hand clutched to his chest.

 

"Are you hurting?" Alex asked finally.

 

"What?" Blair turned his head to face him.

 

Alex gestured at the hand still on Blair's chest.

 

"Oh!" He moved his hand quickly, his face showing his surprise at finding it there in the first place.  "No, I—uh, I don't know why I was doing that."

 

Alex moved from the doorway of the cabin to the rocking chair on the other side of Blair's.  He sat down and gently rocked back and forth.  Blair's eyes drifted back to focus on the woods again, or perhaps focus was the wrong word.  Alex wondered if he saw the trees at all.  "Pete won't be back until morning.  He won't come back here at night.  Too dangerous," he told his guest.  That was what the younger man was looking for out there, he surmised.

 

"We should have gone with him."

 

"And do what?  Wring our hands and fret while he talks incessantly on that cell phone?  That's all we could do, you know."

 

"Still."

 

"Still, we can wring our hands and fret here, which is exactly what you are doing.  Right?"

 

"You are so damn calm."

 

"I am so damn practical.  Not calm.  Not really.  I am worried.  I am angry.  I am very tired of waiting, but I can't let those things make me careless."

 

"You remind me of Jim."

 

"How's that?"

 

"'Check your emotions at the door, Blair.  You can't get personally involved,'" he mimicked Ellison's so-serious tone so well.

 

Alex chuckled.  "All black and white with him, isn't it?"

 

Blair looked at him, an odd expression on his face.

 

"Been there, done that," Alex continued.  "Actually, I assure you, I am feeling.  My emotions are in play; they simply don't call all the moves."

 

"Chess analogies?  Black and white, moves in play?"

 

"Leave it to me."  Alex smiled.  "Anyway, it's a balance.  I can be personally involved and still be practical and get the job done.  There was a time that wasn't true.  I have run the gamut, but I finally found some balance.  Kit helped me with that.  Though I will never admit that to him and don't you say a word.  I'll deny everything.  He's good though, that one.  Makes you see yourself, all the things you are, all the things you aren't, and all the things you'd like to be, good, bad or indifferent.  Sort of like looking at yourself through a prism.  You are still just one person, but there are a multitude of little faces reflected back at you, not all pretty and nice, but all parts of you.  If he weren't such a smart ass while doing it, you might even be inclined to thank him someday, but alas, he is a smart ass.  Little bastard."

 

It was Blair's turn to chuckle.  "He is sort of a smart ass sometimes."

 

"Sometimes?" Alex raised an eyebrow.  "And a chameleon.  I think his own prism must have thousands of faces.  You would think that he would stick out like a sore thumb in certain circumstances, most even.  He's quite striking, all that hair and such.  But he always seems to fit in seamlessly.  Like you, I think.  Had I not been told I would never have pictured you with Ellison or as part of a police department.  He finds ways to fit in, changes to suit his environment without changing the essentials that make him Kit.  I think you have that talent too.  Maybe it's part of the shaman thing.  Kit says that you are like him, so maybe that's part of the talent of it."

 

"I thought it was the anthropologist in me."

 

"Ah, but why Anthropology?  Did you choose it or did it choose you?"

 

That gave Blair something else to focus on, which had been Alex's goal all along.  Hours later, when Blair's eyes were struggling to remain open and Alex talked him into going to bed, Alex had learned more about human culture and its development than he ever knew existed.  Alex had thought he was well versed on world cultures.  He had been wrong, apparently.  As he turned off the last of the lights, he said a short prayer for Kit's safety.  And Ellison's too.  He sighed and started up the stairs to his bedroom.  A soft inquiry stopped him.

 

"Alex, what if I was supposed to balance Jim?  Like Kit did for you?  What if that was my job?"
 

Alex turned to see Blair moving to the steps.  "You can't take responsibility for someone else's problems, Blair."

 

"But I was his guide.  His shaman.  I should have been able to help him."

 

"First, he had to want help.  He had to accept help.  You can lead a jackass to water, but you can't make him drink."

 

"Horse, Alex.  It's—it's a horse."

 

"Oh?  I thought we were talking about Ellison."  Alex grinned.

 

In the moonlight, he saw Blair's smile.  "Harsh, man, very harsh."

 

"But very true.  Don't believe me?  Ask Ellison.  I think he would agree."

 

Blair lowered his head for a long moment.  "He is sorry, you know.  I could tell.  I was just so mad."

 

"With every right to be so," Alex pointed out.

 

"He meant well."

 

"The road to hell."

 

"Damn it!  Make up your mind!  Do you want me to forgive him or not?"

 

Alex walked back down the stairs and placed his hands on Blair's shoulders.  "Blair, I want you to do what's right for you.  But I want you to really know what that is before you do anything.  This is one of those times when you have to use that balance we were talking about.  You can't make this decision with just your head, or just your heart.  And you can't let me or anyone else tell you what you should do.  I think I've learned a little from Kit.  I'm trying to—"

 

"Hold up a prism?"

 

"Yeah, of a sort."  He dropped his hands.

 

"Playing devil's advocate?"

 

"That's it, precisely."  Alex smiled and pointed a finger at him.

 

"So whatever I lean toward, you'll push me the other way?"

 

"No, whatever you feel, I'm going to try to make you think about.  And whatever you think about, I'm going to try to make you feel."

 

"That sucks."

 

"Well, it's what Kit would be doing if he were more objective.  He's already decided he hates Ellison, so I don't think he can help with this."

 

"He really does hate him.  Wonder why."

"If you ask me, I'd say an overdeveloped sense of morality and the absolute conviction that he is always right," Alex said, not quite serious and not quite joking.  "I think it goes back to Kit's understanding of what this sentinel business is all about.  There are legends in Kit's culture about them and because of them, he expected better from Ellison.  Ellison failed to live up to the standards of those legends in Kit's mind and thus must be condemned."

 

"But he's only human."

 

"Ah, is he?"

 

"What are you saying?"

 

"I'm not saying anything.  I'm asking."

 

Blair sat on the steps.  "You're asking if I'm under some delusion that he's somehow more than human?"

 

"Are you?"

 

"No, he disabused me of that notion a long time ago."  Blair laughed, but it had a sad sound to Alex's ears.

 

Alex sat beside him.  "Well, to Kit, he was the living embodiment of a revered legend who fell woefully short of Kit's ideal.  Thus the animosity.  And despite your words, I think there were still times when you looked at him and saw an 'S' across his chest."

 

Blair grinned.  "Yeah, that's true, I guess.  He's larger than life sometimes.  Or he was, anyway."

 

"And that adds to the hurt, doesn't it?"

 

"You're a smart guy."

 

"Smart?"  Alex shrugged, though secretly pleased at the compliment.  "I'm just good at psycho-babble.  Had to hear it for 30 days of my life.  Did me no good at all, but to learn to do it others."

 

"What?"

 

"Nothing.  Bad time in my life and a very long story.  Rather not go into it if you don't mind.  Besides, we need to sleep.  Tomorrow, Pete will have more news, and hopefully, a workable plan."

 

Blair nodded a little.  "I do understand, and I hope you're right.  About the plan, I mean.  Good night, Alex."  He stood.

 

"Good night, Blair.  Again."

 

"Last time, I swear." Blair laughed as he headed down the hall. 

 

Alex watched him go then looked out of the nearest window at the silvery moonlight.  "Good night, Eliza," he whispered.

Pete sat cross-legged in the middle of his hotel bed.  He frowned as he studied the layout of the grounds of the Millennium Research Center's San Francisco facility, the blueprints of the building itself, and some aerial photos the SFPD had taken and graciously given to Chad Ryan.  Frontal assault would be dangerous, and Jim and Kit would be dead before they even got through the gate.  The FBI wanted that frontal assault, but Pete had nixed that right away.  Ryan's people were not coming in until Jim and Kit were safely out of Rose and Baker's custody.  That meant getting in quietly first.  Jesse had explained that the security system at the facility had a backup system.  That was how Kit had gotten caught.  Cut the power, reroute the power, or dispute the power in any way and the backup switch was thrown automatically, resulting in a window of about one minute.  Enough for Kit to get to the top of that stupid electric fence.  Not enough for an assault group to get in, that was sure. 

 

What was worse, Kit's success getting into the Baltimore facility might have even been the reason for the new security measures.  He had practically waltzed in back in Baltimore.  Maybe San Francisco was better guarded all along.  Who knew, but Jesse felt incredibly guilty for not catching the problem in time to keep Kit from being captured.  At any rate, sneaking in was not an option.

 

They also were not going to bluff their way in this time.  They were expected.  He picked up one of the aerial shots.  The picture was of the front gate.  There was a delivery truck at the gate.  He could not see what was written on it.  He put the photo back on the bed and tapped it with one finger.  That was their way in.  He was not sure how Simon Banks and his crew were going to feel about hijacking a truck, not to mention how the FBI would react, but it was easier to ask forgiveness than to get permission.  Besides, Chad knew him well enough to know that he would go to any extreme, up to and including blowing the whole place to kingdom come, to retrieve one of his men.  As long as Pete got the evidence that the FBI wanted to get Baker, Ryan would cover his ass for anything Pete did.  And he did have tentative blessings from the Pentagon and the CIA.

 

He just needed the name of the company on that truck.  Not a problem with Jesse around.  He would take the picture to Jesse, and in less time than it took Pete to talk Mrs. Riviera into making him a batch of cookies, they would be in business.  Pete grinned.  Jesse's mom made the best damn cookies he had ever eaten and all it took was a smile, a wink, and a please and he would have those cookies.  His mouth actually watered at the thought.

 

The next thought wiped the smile off his face.  He did have just one little problem.  Not that little, about five foot eight worth of problem actually.  Blair Sandburg.  What to do with Blair, Pete did not have a clue.  His newest employee would not appreciate being left out of this operation, but he was not ready to go into the field.  Leaving him behind was not exactly an ideal situation either.  Pete did not have a man available to protect him.  He would be safe at Alex's though, if he stayed there.  But he would not stay without a guard.  "Wait, the traps.  Alex's traps.  He can't leave with all those traps.  Ah-ha."  He grinned.  "If they can keep people out, they can keep one anthropologist in.  Hopefully."  He absently chewed on his bottom lip.  Of course, Blair would be furious at being left behind, but Jim would be furious if Pete brought Blair along.  Leaving Blair behind was best. 

 

They had plenty of help.  Banks had four of his people coming with him to help with the assault.  How he had managed to wrangle the simultaneous time off for his entire core group, Pete would never know.  It probably took hours of meetings with multitudes of bureaucrats.  The thought was just too unsavory to contemplate.  The fact that they were going to retrieve Cascade's Cop of the Year, two years running, probably helped.  Also, Pete knew that Ryan had had a word or two with the Police Commissioner.  With the Major Crimes group, Alex, Jesse and him, he had a good-sized assault team.  Ryan's team would only have to come in and roundup the bad guys and sweep away the debris. 

 

He picked up his cell again.  He had to arrange a meeting place with Banks.  L.A. was the best choice.  Baker's people would stake out San Francisco, after all.  And Jesse and his mom's cookies were in L.A.  He smiled again. 

 

Then he had a twinge of guilt.  Kit was in trouble, possibly dead, and he was thinking about cookies.  He thought back to Jess's frantic call.  Jesse had been near tears.  He had been forced to leave Kit behind.  Pete knew how that felt.  It was not a good feeling.  "Fuck," he whispered, running his free hand over his short hair, leaving it standing on end.  But the state of his hair was the very least of his worries.  He stared at the cell phone still in his other hand.  He thumbed the power button and dialed up Cascade.  Time to get the show on the road.

 

"So you knew Pete before, huh?" Kit asked the man on the top bunk.  He had to take his mind off of the cast on his left leg.  It was itching already.  It was psychosomatic, he realized, but that did not stop the itch.

 

"Yeah," his unwilling roommate answered flatly.

 

A moment of silence told Kit that nothing more was forthcoming.  "What was Pete like when he was young and impetuous?"

 

"Young and impetuous."

 

"Jackass," Kit muttered, but not without humor.  That was just the sort of answer he would have given, after all.

 

"Look, I don't like you, and you don't like me.  I think that makes it acceptable for us to completely ignore one another.  Let's try that, shall we?"

 

"No, you look!"  Kit rolled off the bunk, wincing as he accidentally put weight on his ankle.  Impatiently, he shoved his long, tangled hair out of his face.  "I came after you.  I was here to help you, so I think a little courtesy wouldn't kill you!  Besides, wasn't it you who said that we needed to work together to get out of here?"

 

Ellison's blue eyes regarded him in the gloom of their cell.  For a moment, Kit was worried that the man might attack him.  He was in no shape to defend himself.  His head was pounding, and his ankle was throbbing.  He hopped back a little to get ready for it, though, just in case.  But the eyes softened a little and Ellison sighed.  He sat up on his bunk.  "Sorry," he mumbled, through the hands that ran over his face.  "I just—I'm not at my best right now."

 

"Gee, I hope not."  Kit instantly regretted the smart remark.  "Sorry, sorry.  You tend to bring out my bad side."

 

"More like your brutally honest side."

 

Kit raised one eyebrow.  "Say again?"

 

Ellison jumped down from the top bunk and grabbed Kit's arm.  Kit started to pull away, but before he could, he realized that Ellison was only steering him gently to a chair.  Once Kit was seated, the man pulled the chair over to Kit's bunk and propped Kit's ankle on the mattress.  "You should keep that elevated," he explained before sitting on the bunk himself.

 

"Who are you?" Kit asked sarcastically.

 

"Jim Ellison, nice to meet you."  He offered his hand.

 

Kit looked at him, then his hand, then back at him.  Tentatively, he held out his own hand.  Ellison took it in a firm grasp.  "Kit Chase, still deciding if it's nice to meet you or not."

 

"Understandable.  You know, I was really pissed at you."

 

"Was?"  Kit almost smiled.

 

"Maybe still am a little.  But I have been thinking about what you said.  You made some good points."

 

"I try."

 

"Do you ever stop being such a smart ass?"

 

"Can't help it.  The rest of me ain't dumb either."  This time, Kit did smile while Ellison shook his head.  "Alex says I'm annoying."

 

"He's right.  You are."

 

Kit laughed.  "Part of my job, though.  My grandfather says that a shaman must think with both his head and his heart, but there's just one problem.  Most men think with something considerably lower than either of those things."  Ellison almost smiled.  Kit went on.  "He actually attributes that last part of the lesson to my grandmother, however.  At any rate, you weren't using your head or your heart.  You were thinking with your pride, and there's nothing more dangerous or hurtful than that."

 

"You're right."

 

"But I was also wrong."

 

"Meaning?"

 

"I forgot something.  You're still human.  Humans make mistakes.  In fact, we are entitled to make them.  How else would we learn?  So I was expecting the great legend, the Guardian of the tribe.  I got Jim Ellison, the man, the human.  It pissed me off.  I did some thinking too.  Didn't have much else to do, and it was useful to drown out Rose's inane theories about what you are and what I am.  Alex tried to tell me all of this, you know.  But I wasn't listening.  I should have known better but—"

 

"You're human.  You're entitled to your mistakes."

 

"He can be taught!" Kit smiled to soften the sarcasm.  "Blair made mistakes too.  Mostly from not being aware of what he is and what he can do.  I'm trying to fix that, by the way."

 

"Good."

 

"He does miss you."

 

"I miss him, but I don't want him here."

 

"Then we agree on something then."

 

"If we both want Blair safe and healthy, then yes, we have common ground."  Ellison offered his hand again and Kit did not hesitate to take it.

 

"I still think you're a jackass."  He could not help the impulse to say it.

 

Ellison chuckled.  "Yeah, and you're still an annoying smart ass."

 

"Fair enough," he said as Ellison helped him back onto his bunk.

 

"Good night, Chase."

 

"Good night, Ellison."  Kit waited until the other man was on his bunk, then added, "I still want to know the dirt on Pete."

 

"Well, there's plenty of it.  Another night though.  All of this emotional soul-searching is exhausting."

 

"I suppose that'll be okay.  Gotta take it easy on my elders."

 

"Chase?"

 

"What?"

 

"Don't make me kick your ass."

 

"I'm an injured man.  You wouldn't."

 

"Don't count on that."

 

"You can't fool me, Ellison.  For all your faults, you are still a decent man."

 

There was a silence so long that Kit began to believe that his fellow prisoner had fallen asleep, but he had not.  "Thanks.  I needed to hear that right now."

 

"You're welcome," Kit answered honestly.  He shifted on the bunk, trying to get comfortable with the heavy cast.  He sighed.  It was impossible.  He would never get to sleep. 

 

He was wrong.

 

Part 9