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God, it’s going to be a long semester. Blair had been roped into teaching Intro. to Anthropology. Which meant a whole semester teaching clueless, obnoxious, freshmen who believe beer is one of the four major food groups. Ever since Professor Buckner had passed away, things in the Anthro department had gone a bit haywire. Exhibit pieces lost, grades held up, the whole nine yards. And with Emily Watson gone too, well everything was just nuts. Blair tried to forget how much this class annoyed him. It wasn’t that hard, since it had been Buckner’s class before. Blair had always looked up to him, as an advisor, a mentor, and in a way, his friend. If he could keep in that frame of mind, he didn’t mind so much.

But the freshmen! They were so utterly dim-witted it was funny. Upon introducing himself to his class he mentioned that "This is Introductory Anthropology. If any of you are in the wrong class, we’ll let you leave now." To Blair’s dismay, three students sheepishly got up and left. It wasn’t that ALL freshmen were bad, he had been one himself once. Even so, it was enough to color his judgement.

All of these things were going through his mind while grading the first quiz of the semester. Blair was beginning to wonder if ANY of the students had even bought the textbook. He looked up at the clock mounted on the wall of his office and realized it was nearly noon, which meant it was time to go. Enough daydreaming Sandburg, you’ve got to get to the station. Blair had thought Jim might need some help with the paperwork that usually bombarded detectives with busy schedules. He gathered his notes and ungraded quizzes and unreligiously stuffed them into his ever present backpack. He put on his black leather coat and slung the heavy bag over his shoulder, catching his loose hair under the shoulder strap. "Ow dammit!" he exclaimed, pulling the brown curls free. He left the office locking the door behind him and made his way out of Hargrove Hall.

It was one of those rare cloudless days in Cascade. The warm sun melting the snow on the ground and the icicles hanging from the trees, causing droplets of water to fall like rain. Blair took a deep breath, wishing he had just half of Jim’s abilities to get the full effect of the crisp winter air. He gingerly made his way to the parking lot, being careful not to slip on any ice patches.

The snow that had covered his car overnight had melted away and he was left with a nice clean Volvo. Now if it would just start. The Corvair was never this bad...was it? Ok, I don’t ask for much, please please please start. He threw his backpack into the seat next to him, preparing to get out his cell phone. The last thing he wanted to do was to call Jim up for a ride. He’d been working pretty hard lately on some murder case and hadn’t had much time for outside distractions. He put the key into the ignition and attempted to start the "classic" car. As luck would have it, the car roared to life on the first try. Piece of crap? HA!

It was a ten minute drive to the police station if he took the freeway, and twenty if he went through town. Blair wasn’t in any hurry so he opted to go the long way. He cruised the streets, singing along with the radio tapping his hands on the steering wheel. It felt good to be alive. He pulled into the Cascade PD parking lot and parked the car. Grabbing his backpack in the passenger seat, he got out and made his way to the building. He passed Ryf who was on his way to lunch. When they were through talking he resumed his course to the seventh floor. The elevator doors opened, he hesitated for just a split second. After all this time he still felt anxiety when he had to ride in one. The only advantage he could see was that the department building was only ten stories or so, not forty.

He exited the elevator and walked across the hall to the major crimes office. Entering the bull-pen was like a completely different world. People rushing around, criminals being interviewed, Simon yelling. Today, nothing was different. Blair approached Jim’s normally clean desk, and discovered that it was a mess and his partner was nowhere to be found. He sat in the detective’s chair and made himself comfortable. He looked through the blinds into the Captain’s office to see if Jim was in there. Nope, just Simon on the phone, looking like he was going to rip the receiver off and throw it out the window. Sometimes he wondered what could get the Captain so angry. Let’s not ask him. Blair swiveled around to face Henry Brown’s desk. "Hey Brown."

"Hey hair-boy. What’s up?"

"You seen Jim around?"

"Nah, I just got here. You seen Ryf?"

"Yeah, just a few minutes ago. He just left to get lunch or something." At that moment,

Simon’s office door swung open, "Brown! Get in here!"

Blair looked at Henry with raised eyebrows, happy not to be in his shoes. One thing he had learned in his years of hanging out with Jim, was that you do not want to be on the business end of one of Simon Banks’ beratings. Brown just shrugged his shoulders in innocence. "I don’t know what he thinks I did, but Ryf probably did it too..." he muttered heading to the angry Captain’s office.

Jim probably went to get some coffee.

Blair got up from the desk and headed across the hall to the break room. He opened the door to find his partner sitting at the table sniffing the sweet’n’low. "Jim, um, what are you doing?"

"Have you ever taken the time to smell this stuff Chief?"

"Um, no Jim. I try to stay away from foods that have health warnings on them." he paused, still unsure why the imitation sugar had caught the detectives attention. "So why are you smelling it?" he asked sitting at the table across from his partner.

"Something to do I guess." He poured the sugar into the steaming cup in front of him. "Simon’s pretty pissed off today and I thought this might be the easiest way to keep my ass from the fire."

"Tell me about it." Blair said recalling Brown’s run in earlier. "So, what did you do?"

"Nothing yet, but I’m sure if I were to hang around in the bull-pen long enough, he’d find something. I thought you had classes today." Jim asked taking a sip of his coffee.

"I finished about an hour ago. I’m firmly convinced that they’re all complete idiots." He reclined in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "Well no, that’s not right. I can’t just like, label them and call it good. It’s my job to keep them from BECOMING complete idiots."

"That’s frightening." Jim chuckled "Darwin to the academic rescue?"

Blair couldn’t help but share in the humor. "Pretty much. How’s the Marten case going?"

"Ms. Gordon, Mr. Marten’s wife, her alibi is getting pretty thin. It was either her or the butler did it." Jim cringed at his own pun. "I was going to bring her in later. Just as soon as I get the OK from Simon. But you can see how far that’s gone."

"Ms. Gordon, isn’t she like a major contributor to the department?" He asked, recalling that she’d sponsored the annual CPD basketball game.

"Yeah. It isn’t going to be easy to convince everyone that she’s the one who poisoned her husband. But that’s not my job, that’s the state prosecutor’s."

"So do you need any help today?" Raising an eyebrow, almost regretting the question. Whenever there was a suspect to be brought in, there would always be reports to be filled out. Blair had half a mind to go back to the university and get his own work done to teach Jim a lesson. But he wasn’t that kind of person.

"I will as soon as we bring her in." He grabbed his coffee cup and opened the lounge door. "We’ll have plenty of paperwork for you to do Chief."

"Yeah. I’m so glad I’m not having office hours today and grading quizzes." he said sarcastically rolling his eyes following the detective.

"I knew you’d come around." Jim said lightly tapping Blair on the side of the head.

Blair stayed behind Jim as they walked across the hall and entered the bull-pen, kind of like a shield. It was silly really. Blair didn’t even work for Simon, yet his respect...or fear, he contemplated, was enough to make him want to hide from the overbearing Captain. Strangely enough, Simon seemed to be warming up to Blair being around. Jim had told Blair once that Simon had " an abided tolerance" for him. Sometimes Sandburg wasn’t so sure. However, if it was the truth, he would never let himself believe it. Blair glanced at Brown who was quietly doing his paperwork, looking a bit unhappy. Uh oh. Must not have gone well with the boss. He sat on the edge of his partners desk and was getting ready to speak when Simon’s door opened.

"Ellison, so nice of you to grace us with your presence. Now would you like to step into my office?" a glint of anger in his brown eyes.

"Oh yeah, hey Jim. Simon wants to see you in his office." Brown chimed in with a barely contained laugh.

"Gee thanks Brown." Jim mumbled. Blair laughed inwardly, not wanting to be subject to his partners anger. He followed Jim into the office and sat on the corner of the conference table behind the detective, who sat in a chair.

"What’s up sir?" asked the sentinel.

Simon sat back down at his desk and pulled out a fresh cigar. "Got a little phone call from the Chief today. He isn’t to happy with the progress you’ve made on the Gordon case. Or lack thereof."

"Ah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that sir." He paused not wanting to break the news to the already irritated Captain. "I think I need to bring in Meg Gordon for questioning."

"Why?" the Captain asked slowly, not wanting to hear the inevitable answer.

Even though Blair knew he shouldn’t, he was really enjoying this exchange between the two cops. For once, it had nothing to do with him. He didn’t have to hear the oh so often repeated lecture of "No way Sandburg", "Why not?", "Because you’re a civilian" blah blah blah.

"She’s become the prime suspect in her husband’s murder."

"Just what I didn’t want to hear." Simon lit the cigar. "Well go on, bring her in. But you want to do it nicely? Just in case. She’s a little iffy at the moment and we don’t need her going on some sort of rampage against the department."

"Great sir, no problem." Jim breathed a sigh of relief.

Blair found himself hiding laughter yet again. He couldn’t remember a time when Jim left Simon’s office in such a rush. Not because he really wanted to bring in the suspect, but because he was just relieved to be getting away from the PO’d Captain. It was hard to imagine Jim intimidated by anybody. He was so intimidating himself with his muscular frame and height. And then there was that ice cold look and jaw clench combo that could cause his guide to want to run and hide like a scared child. Blair was sure all sentinels were made like that. Probably just another part of their genetic advantage.

He followed Jim to the elevators and down to the parking garage. They got in the blue and white ford and started towards the elite part of town. Blair had seen Ms. Gordon only once before at the baseball game in December. She had been entirely overdressed. Diamond tennis bracelet, pearl necklace, big hair-do, high heeled shoes...the works. He could just imagine her in prison. The pearl necklace and diamond tennis bracelet might clash with the license plates she’d be making though. But hey, I’m no fashion expert! Blair snickered at the mental image. Jim glanced at him, "What?"

"Oh, just trying to imagine Ms. Gordon in prison."

"I had the same thought earlier."

"To poison her own husband. That’s sick man. What would motivate an upstanding citizen to do that?"

"Money. His insurance policy paid out two times what they were worth. Did you know that they were only married for six weeks? On top of all that, Ms. Gordon is rumored to be a bit...nutty."

Blair raised his eyebrows at his partners choice of words. "Nutty?"

"OK, unstable. That better? The other day when I interviewed her, she wanted me to talk to her Spanish speaking parrot. Get this, its name is Vatican."

"People talk to their pets all the time, it doesn’t mean they’re insane Jim." scolding his partner for judging the woman.

"Chief, she swore up and down that the parrot was a witness!"

"Oh, that’s different."

They turned into the Clarion Park subdivision, a ritzy neighborhood where every house had a minimum value of one million dollars. The last time he had been here, Maya and he had been seeing each other. Blair had never been one to complain about money, or a lack of. But this was ridiculous. "Do you believe these houses? I mean, what do these people do to afford mansions?" Aside from gun-running....he thought to himself.

"Doctors, lawyers, heck I think Malcolm Wilkinson lives around here somewhere. Meg Gordon had been a photographer and traveled all over the world. Apparently she’s been married three times. Not counting the former husband, number four."

Jim’s pick-up stuck out like a sore thumb compared to the Jaguars and BMW’s in the driveways. They pulled into the Gordon’s driveway and strolled up the freshly shoveled front walk.

Blair pulled his loose hair back into a ponytail, not wanting to be judged as a neo-hippie freak right off the bat. The wealthy had a tendency to do that...as well as some other people he knew. "So are we just going to bring her in?"

"The squad car won’t be here for another ten minutes, that should give us time to prepare her. Who knows how she’ll react to being arrested." Jim rang the doorbell. The maid answered, or at least Blair thought it was the maid. She could have been mistaken for a brick wall. He looked up, and up to see a frowning face. "Ya?" the wall spoke.

Jim smiled at Blair’s reaction. "Hello Helga, is Ms. Gordon in?"

"Ya." she replied, and they were invited into the foyer. Ms. Gordon approached them from the study on the left. Her silver hair curling under at her shoulders. "Detective Ellison, what a nice surprise." she said, visibly tensing when she saw them. She dismissed the massive servant.

"Hello Ms. Gordon, this is my partner Blair Sandburg."

"Hi." he waved nervously. Even he could tell she was upset they’d shown up.

"Partner? Why, you don’t look like the police type." eyeing him suspiciously.

"Actually I’m an advisor to the department." He said not really wanting to explain his position with the suspect.

"Um, ma’am could we have a word with you." Jim switched to the matter at hand.

"Oh, yes right this way." she subconsciously began wringing her hands and led them into the study asking them to have a seat. She sat in the adjacent armchair.

Blair sat on the floral couch unable to look at the woman, so he stared at the painting of her and her deceased husband on the wall behind them. When that became too dull, he opted for a knot in the hardwood floor.

Ellison on the other hand, didn’t have any problems staring her in the face. "I’ll just get right to the point. Ms. Gordon, we have reason to believe that you had something to do with your husband’s murder." he said, waiting for the potentially ugly response.

"You...What?! I can’t believe that you could possibly think that I--" stunned look on her face. "Oh my God. I send you nitwits to find my husband’s murderer and now you suspect me!?" her face becoming flushed with anger. She got up and began pacing the floor wearing a track down the middle of an oriental rug. "You think I’d kill my own husband? With what pray tell? I’m a damn photographer not a serial killer!" Her voice raising to an earsplitting yell.

Something about this woman was somehow off. Blair couldn’t put his finger on it. He was sure Jim felt the same way about her. Feeling braver, he glanced up at her again. Somehow her demeanor had changed. He’d expected her to be upset, but this was crossing the line to irate. A disturbing level at that. Meg had walked to the desk in front of the window and stood there with her back to them. She was getting something from the drawer. Blair stood up and tried to warn Jim, but never got the chance. Before he could say anything, Ellison was off the couch in an instant, his gun drawn. She turned to face him, her pistol aimed at his chest.

"Oh shit." Blair let slip out.

Ellison tried coaxing the woman to give up the gun. "Put down the gun, nice and slow."

"If you think I’m going to prison for killing my husband, you’ve got another thing coming," the gun shaking slightly in her delicate hands.

"So you’d kill a cop?" trying to reason with the woman.

"Ok, fine." She turned the gun on Blair with determination in her eyes.

"NOOOO!" Jim lunged forward in an attempt to knock the gun away.

But it was too late. The sound of the gun exploded in Blair’s ears as he crashed to the floor, banging his head on the coffee table. He lay on the floor dazed, expecting the searing pain of a bullet wound, but felt nothing except the throbbing of his forehead. "What the--."

"Blair! You OK?" shouted his partner on the other side of the coffee table

"Uh, yeah." he said in disbelief. He got up to see his partner handcuffing Ms. Gordon and reading her rights. Blair turned around to see where the bullet had impacted and found a small hole in the couch about five inches to the right of where he had been standing. He let out a sigh of relief. Thank you God for giving her terrible aim. he prayed silently. What the hell would possess any sane human to shoot another? The maid charged in at that moment with uniformed officers right behind her. The squad car, late as usual.

"Detective! Are you all right? Is anyone hurt?" the one of the officers asked.

"Yeah we’re fine. Get this bitch out of here." He pulled her off the ground and handed her over to the officers. Jim sat on the couch next to Blair. "Hey Chief, you sure you’re all right?" he asked examining the red mark already turning to a welt on his friend’s forehead.

"Jim, I’m fine. That was close man," putting his finger through the hole in the couch.

"What do you mean? She had terrible aim!" He joked trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah...she’s like...nutty." still a little dazed by the event.

"I’m not the only one who thinks so, huh?" the sentinel asked helping his guide to his feet.

"Not anymore man."

"She shot at you?" The Captain asked in disbelief, looking over the report.

"Well not me sir, Sandburg."

"How do you two manage it? No matter how small the task, the two of you always end up being shot at, drugged, kidnapped. The list goes on gentlemen." He closed the folder and laid it on the desk in front of him, looking like he was getting a tremendous headache.

Oh lord, he’s got a point. We’re danger magnets...And it doesn’t stop us! "I’ve got it narrowed down Captain. Either we’re adrenaline junkies, or we have the worst luck in the world."

"Or the best luck Sandburg. How many times have you two cheated death?" Banks asked.

Blair hadn’t really thought about it. Was this how he wanted to live the rest of his life? With the potential for it to be dramatically shortened every time some psycho has a bad day? He cared too much about Jim to abandon him. How could he ever leave? I could have really died today, as though the thought had never occurred to him. What would happen to Jim if I died? Could Simon help him with his abilities? Would he know what to look for? Something as simple as picking up some old crazy lady could have killed me!

A hand rest on his shoulder, "Hey partner, you ready to go?" Jim’s voice pulling him to the present.

"Huh?" realizing that in his musings he had missed the rest of the conversation. "Oh yeah."

"You didn’t hear a word did you?" Ellison asked, steering him out the office door.

"Sure I did."

"Yeah, I bet. So what do you think it’ll be? A boy or a girl?" stepping in to the elevator.

"WHAT? OK so maybe I wasn’t exactly listening closely." The doors sliding closed. Oh great, now my curiosity is piqued, who’s having a kid? "Well, my car is in the front lot. I’ll see you at home?" The elevator doors opening to reveal the main level.

"You might want to try paying attention on the way home...It’ll do wonders for your driving skills Chief." Jim teased, going towards the garage.

Blair headed out the main lobby doors, sarcasm oozing out of every pore. "HA HA Jim! You should take that act on the road!" He shot back quietly, knowing his sentinel could hear. Dusk was settling over the city and the temperature was rapidly dropping. Blair got into his car and silently begged it to start once more. The engine refused to turn over. You know you’re a wonderful car. I know you can start. Sure Sandburg, buttering up the car is going to help. Still no luck. Maybe opening the hood will help...like I know what’s wrong with this thing! Popping the hood, he got out to see if there was something visibly wrong with the engine. What he knew about cars could fill a thimble.

A truck pulled up behind his car. "Why don’t you just shoot the thing, like they do with lame horses. Need a lift?"

Blair looked around the hood to see his friend smirking, "I am NOT getting rid of this car Jim!"

"Hey, like I said before, Its your dime." Ellison replied and rolled up the window against the cold winter air.

Blair slammed the hood shut and grabbed his backpack. He climbed into the waiting truck. "Thanks Jim." What would I do without him?

"No problem Chief." mischief in his eyes. "Take my act on the road eh?"

"Yeah, I was thinking Vegas." Oh I’m gonna get smacked for that one! He raised his arms in defense...just in case. But nothing happened, other than a smile from the man he admired more than anyone. All in all it was a good day, aside from being shot at by some crazy old coot. We’re alive and we’re both safe, that’s all that really matters.