Shadows

"Aiden." The unfamiliar voice over the phone had nearly whispered the word and then hung up without further directions. So, this wasn't just a contact, this was Section pulling them in.

Jim found himself unconsciously searching the street with his hearing. Were they out there already? If Jim had to guess, he would say they were. Last time Section had wanted them, he had come home to find Michael standing in his darkened living room. The mission to rescue one of their agents, Nikita, had nearly cost Jim his life and his guide. And since that had happened, Jim had lived every day with the knowledge that Section was always there. Sometimes it was a familiar figure leaning against a building watching them; other times the phone would ring and the activation code was followed by instructions that Jim had always followed. In two years, he'd learned to hope that Section wouldn't want more. He was wrong.

"Sandburg," Jim called. "Pack a light bag."

Blair's face appeared at the door to his room, his glasses half down his nose and a pen still in one hand.

"Jim?" he asked.

"Pack a light bag. Ten minutes to get downstairs," Jim said as he headed up the stairs to his bedroom without any further explanation. As he packed a change of clothes and a few toiletries, he could hear Blair cursing, the slide of books against one another telling Jim exactly what Blair was considering 'light.'

"No books," he yelled down, inspiring another round of more vicious cursing. Jim headed back down and did a sweep through the kitchen, pulling the perishable food out of the refrigerator and either shoving it into the freezer or a garbage bag.

"Aren't you going to call Simon?" Blair asked as he came out, his ubiquitous backpack flung over his shoulder as he headed for the phone.

"Don't call anyone," Jim said as he checked the clock and decided he didn't have time for a security sweep of the doors and window. He caught Blair by the arm and headed for the front door.

"But I have class. Oh man, this is so not cool."

"Trust them to have some cover story, a cover story you do not know, so let them handle it," Jim said firmly as he locked the front door with sixty seconds to spare. "Downstairs, double time." Jim ignored the elevator and headed for the stairs. Mrs. Mullens on the second floor was impatiently poking the elevator button so they didn't have time to wait.

"Geez. Okay, pushy much?" Blair muttered, but he came, hurrying down the stairs two steps behind Jim.

"Chief." Jim stopped at the bottom, and looked at Blair. The man was a doctor of anthropology, a respected consultant who specialized in the continuation of victimization through acculturation. And yet, Jim just couldn't see him as anything other than a student who he had dragged into this cloak and dagger world they were about to disappear back into.

"Blair," Jim said softly.

Blair snorted. "Oh man, do not start your self-flagellation shit right now. I'm the one who tracked you down. I talked you into letting me move in. So if anyone dragged anyone anywhere, you were the draggee, not the dragger." And with typical Sandburg charm, Blair shoved past Jim and headed for the sidewalk.

"You could at least let me apologize," Jim muttered as he followed, dropping the trash bag in the bin outside the door.

"Yeah, right," Blair snorted again. "Buddy, you do not apologize. You stammer and offer to fix my carburetor. Besides, this is not your fault," Blair added, but his confidence vanished as a black van pulled around the corner. Jim tightened his hand on Blair's shoulder and listened to the four heartbeats inside. The van stopped, and the door slid open without any of the four moving: two in front, two in back. Jim stepped forward into the dark, spotting the two agents sitting on the bench beside the door. Sliding into place on the far bench, Jim watched as Blair got in, hesitated just a second, and then slid into place next to Jim. Last time they'd been chained and drugged by this time. From the way Blair's heart was tripping along, he expected that again. Instead, one of the agents slid the door closed and took his seat again as the van started rolling.

"I'm carrying my service weapon," Jim informed them, his hands on his knees. Neither of the two men across from them reacted, and Blair slid a half inch closer so that they pressed leg to leg. Jim understood Blair's fear. For Jim, action mattered. These men hadn't disarmed him, they weren't chaining him or searching his bag. Jim could feel some of the tension ease as he realized something had changed in the way Section did business. But Blair worked with words, with reassurances and sometimes with manipulations, but always with words. As the silence continued, Blair smelled strongly of fear.

Reaching over, Jim rested his hand on Blair's knee. "Breathe, Chief. It's just another job," he offered. Blair shot him an incredulous look before going back to watching their two watchers.

"How was your trip?" a blonde woman asked as she stood in the open door. Jim put down the manual for the P-90 he'd found in his room and focused on the woman. He'd expected Michael or Madeline, but neither one had shown up yet.

"Long," Jim said honestly. Three hours in the van, six to eight more in a plane ending with another hour in a van, possibly driving in circles before being strip-searched and escorted to their room. It had been long. Behind him, Blair was silent and still smelling of fear. Jim couldn't blame him. The furnished quarters suggested that Section wanted them for more than a quick mission, and the wide array of weapons' manuals he'd found on one of the beds suggested they wanted him to carry serious weaponry, so wherever they were going, they were going in hot. Blair wasn't stupid, so Jim didn't bother saying any of this to his guide. He just watched Blair's eyes travel the room as the sharp scent of fear tickled Jim's nose.

"I thought I would escort you to briefing."

"You're Nikita," Blair suddenly said. "I mean, you looked a lot different last time, but it's you."

The woman smiled, and Jim studied her face more carefully. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been bruised and swollen, one eye nearly black and totally shut, but Blair was right; this was Nikita who they had saved during their only other mission for Section.

"I never had a chance to thank you for getting me out of... where I was," she finished after a brief hesitation. "I've tried to keep you clear of Section in part because of that."

"But now you can't," Jim said quietly. He could feel his own fear gathering, and he shoved it away mercilessly. He didn't have time for feelings right now. Right now, he needed to be a soldier to survive this.

"No, I can't. Let's talk in the briefing room," Nikita suggested as she stepped backwards. Jim traded a quick look with Blair, watching as his guide took a deep breath and tried to center himself.

"Hate this shit, hate this shit, hate this shit," he chanted like a mantra so softly that only Jim could hear. Jim rested his hand on Blair's back, as they followed Nikita out into the corridor. Two guards fell in behind them, and Jim found himself cataloging their weaknesses even though he knew it wouldn't do him any good to take them out. One walked too close to the wall--it meant he wouldn't have as much room to maneuver if Jim attacked--and the other had a slight injury to his left leg.

"Dr. Sandburg, I enjoyed your last paper on group dynamics and victimization," Nikita offered casually, but Jim's guts clenched. She was going out of her way to point out that Section still kept close watch on them--on Blair.

"You read that?" Blair asked with just a hint of enthusiasm.

"Our profilers tell me they adjusted their prediction models based on your work and have improved their efficiency."

"Okay, I have no idea how to take that. I mean, no offense, but making your job easier was not my goal."

Nikita just laughed. "I imagine that it wasn't. However, your work in the area is truly amazing, and it doesn't hurt that no one would ever expect your unpublished dissertation to be on any subject other than victims. Of course, your dissertation has made the rounds of various agencies, and that is equally impressive."

"What?" Blair almost yelped. "All copies were accounted for. I didn't let even one go astray, I swear, Jim," Blair stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, and Jim had to push on his back to get him moving again.

"Don't worry about it, Chief. I never had any illusions about who would see the dissertation."

"But I kept everything protected. I didn't let even one copy go outside the dissertation committee. Oh man, I was ultra paranoid."

"Not quite paranoid enough," Nikita pointed out. "Of course, we had a copy of your preliminary report, but your first draft nearly made the national press, which would have been a serious problem."

"What?" Blair stopped again. "No way. No fucking way. What are you talking about? And how did you get my preliminary report? I was the only one who had that." The fear smell was dissipating as Blair got a good head of anger going. Jim had been resting his hand on Blair's back, but he switched to a hold on Sandburg's shoulder as the two guards subtly closed the distance between them.

Jim waited for Nikita to say something, but she just stood, watching them, so Jim got the definite impression she was leaving this decision up to him. "Chief," Jim said slowly, not really sure how he was going to take this. Most of the time, Blair defined the term laid-back, but when it came to his work, the word rabid came to mind. "You shared your preliminary report with me."

"What?" Blair's confusion quickly transitioned to a narrow-eyed anger. "You dick. You just handed it over to them? Oh man, if you'd told me, I would have..." Blair stopped, his gaze darting to Nikita.

"You would have tried to edit the copy," Jim finished. "That's why I didn't tell you." Even without saying anything else, Jim knew Blair would understand. Blair hated being on the leash of some secret agency, but Jim had been on some sort of leash his whole adult life. Even being officially out of the military, he knew he could be called back to active duty at any time, and being trained in covert ops and being a Sentinel with heightened senses, he'd accepted that the day might come when he was. "However, I only surrendered the copy once someone used the Aiden code, so if it nearly got out to the national press, the leak is here." Jim stared at Nikita.

She gave a small smile. "The leak is Naomi Sandburg," Nikita shrugged. "She sent a copy to a publisher who was then pressured to make certain parts public knowledge."

"She what? Naomi wouldn't do that. No way," Blair all but growled.

"She found a copy of your first draft on an unsecured laptop and sent it to Sid Graham in New York so he could look it over," Nikita said as she pressed a button and called for an elevator. "In turn, he was pressured to make the document public, to offer as much money as he had to in order to make it public, and to release it without permission if he couldn't buy your cooperation."

The elevator doors opened, and Jim had to almost push Blair into the elevator. "Sid Graham?" Blair asked weakly, obviously recognizing the name. "But he can't legally just release information without my permission."

"The legalities wouldn't matter once the press got a look at the dissertation, particularly since you hadn't expunged names yet. You might have been a wealthy man if we hadn't intervened. The advance alone would have paid off your student loans."

Jim couldn't help making a derisive noise. "No offense to Blair, but I read the dissertation. It wasn't exactly a page turner." Hell, there were parts when Jim was flipping past pages of statistics on perfume sniffers just trying to not fall asleep as he read it.

Nikita smiled. "Certain sections taken out of context with the scientific data stripped out would certainly be enough to catch people's attention," Nikita said with a shrug. The elevator slid to a stop and she got out. "However, we convinced Mr. Graham to back off."

"But... why?" Blair asked. "I mean, if the other agencies know about Sentinels, what possible good would it do to make it public knowledge, except to make Jim's life a living hell? Man, this is so not cool." Blair ranted most of the way through the main entrance to a set of double doors that she pushed open.

"The most likely scenario according to the profilers was to make Sentinels and their weaknesses public knowledge, which would damage their usefulness in the field. The actions seemed particularly aimed at Section since we have become the most active recruiters of Sentinels."

Jim jerked to a stop at that simple statement, but Nikita's face remained calm. She didn't have the coldness of Madeline, but Jim wondered if it would just take her more time to get there. "So, have we been recruited?" Jim asked sharply.

"You were recruited two years ago," Nikita pointed out as she sat down in a leather chair at the head of an enormous table.

"And now you're bringing us in."

"True." Nikita paused. Beside him, Blair bounced nervously. "We have a job for which our current Sentinels are not qualified. But to answer the question you have not asked, no one intended for you to remain here for a prolonged period of time. We're hoping that you can complete your mission and return to Cascade within three weeks."

"What do you mean 'not qualified'?" Blair asked as he inched closer to Jim.

"I do plan to give you a full briefing, but would you allow me to present the information in chronological order? I'm afraid if I answer your questions one at a time, we'll be here long after your team arrives."

"Our team?" Jim demanded.

"Perhaps I should start here." Nikita flipped a switch and a hologram of a beautiful blonde woman appeared above the table. Jim blinked, the image wavering between a solid figure and a collection of random dots before his eyes adjusted.

"Alex?" Blair asked as he stepped toward the table. The name helped Jim figure out where he knew her from. When he'd seen her, it'd been in autopsy photographs.

"Alex Barnes," Nikita agreed. "She was the second Sentinel you found in Cascade."

"The one killed on campus," Jim said as he slowly sat down and studied the figure. He could hear Blair's heart pounding. At the time, Jim had been peripherally involved in the homicide investigation only because his partner had known the victim.

"Oh man," Blair breathed. Jim could tell from Blair's heartbeat that he had already figured out that Section had something to do with her murder. The killing had been too clean… too professional for homicide to even get a single lead. The case might have even been bumped up to Major Crimes except that Blair had known her and he was too involved with the entire department for anyone to claim impartiality in the case.

"She was actually an international thief. Her current target was a shipment of nerve gas which would have endangered thousands of people, but her senses had started going out of control. The profilers were almost evenly divided between those who believed she would kidnap you and kill you later and those who believed she would kill you in Cascade," Nikita told Blair calmly, and Jim could tell from her heartbeat and the steady shape of her pupils that she believed what she was saying. "Section sent Michael out to cancel her."

A click made a new face appear, one that Jim vaguely recognized. "Dr. Harper Ravensly, specializing in tribal authority and how it related to modern police and government authority in the sociological schema of modern life. We arranged for Dr. Ravensly to transfer to Rainier hoping that you would find a secondary subject area that would justify you working with the police department after your dissertation was finished."

"Oh man, I mean, his work is great, but Harper himself is a first class ass. You thought I would *want* to work with him?" Blair asked incredulously. "And what are you doing trying to manipulate my professional life. This is the definition of uncool."

Jim had to bite back a dark laugh at Blair's open hostility. He was sitting across from a woman who could and most likely had ordered people dead without a second thought, and he was upset that it wasn't cool that she interfered in his professional life. Some days Jim wasn't sure if Blair was the most centered or the most screwy individual in the universe. The jury was still out.

Completely ignoring Blair's outburst, Nikita continued the briefing. "Our profilers made a second attempt with Dr. Cynthia Theroux and her work with anthropological profiling of criminal communities. We thought we had successfully diverted you into a secondary field of study when Dr. Theroux brought in the variable."

"Variable?" Blair snorted. "He's called a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal who should be buried under the jail, and would be if there were any fairness in the world because verbal abuse is every bit as damaging as physical abuse. Asshole."

"And the profilers suggested that Dr. Theroux would likely find another knuckle-dragging Neanderthal if we removed Mr. Kaeser. Which brings us to Dr. Ruiz and the culture of victimization. We provided the grant funding at Rainier that paid for his first study."

"Whoa. I am seriously feeling like a fucking puppet on a string here," Blair sighed as he finally sank into the seat next to Jim.

"You shouldn't. Our profilers are very good, so for them to miscalculate not once but twice--you are a very hard man to profile, Dr. Sandburg. I think they had a betting pool on who could finally get you settled into a scenario, but you clearly made your own choice on what work you wanted to do," Nikita said. Jim was grateful for that kindness... for the illusion of choice that would at least allow Blair to continue his work without feeling trapped by the knowledge that someone had chosen it for him. Blair nodded dumbly.

"Captain Ellison, meanwhile, was the subject of a number of different investigations. The NID investigation was led by a man by the name of Colonel Simmons." With a click a man appeared in the hologram: sharp eyes and a large nose under a receding hairline. Jim studied his features and filed them away for future reference. "The NID has had almost no success in working with Sentinels, and the fact that Ellison did covert ops wetwork before coming on-line made them believe that he might be what they were searching for--a Sentinel without the moral constraints that prevent most Sentinels from participating in the darker side of our business. He is the most likely candidate for attempting to release the Sentinel dissertation to the public. If he can't use Sentinel skills, then he would rather the other agencies not have access to them either. However, getting caught with his hand in that particular cookie jar would make him a target for every covert ops organization in the world, so the evidence connecting him to the Graham plot is minimal."

"NID. Oh fuck," Blair breathed. Jim absentmindedly reached over and rested his hand on Blair's leg to quiet him.

Nikita flipped another switch. "Lieutenant General West, retired. He was assigned by the president to evaluate personnel for a secret project working out of Colorado. He had pulled all your information and we thought he was going to reactivate your commission. He was prevented only by the leg wound Klaus Zeller inflicted."

"No way. Did you..." Blair started.

"No," Nikita said quickly. "We had plans to activate you before West's recommendation, but when Ellison was out of commission, the general chose another Sentinel to recommend. As of right now, the president has hesitated to involve a Sentinel in that project."

Jim leaned forward and studied Nikita, surprised at either the level of honesty or the quality of her acting, and he wasn't sure which one. It didn't make sense to give away all this information without getting something in return and as much as Blair was relaxing with each new piece of information, Jim could feel the fear claw in his guts. "Do you have the power to bring us in even if the president has signed an order to reactivate me?" he asked, not sure if he wanted the answer. Anything other than an outright refusal to reveal that level of information would certainly worry him.

Nikita leaned back and flipped off the hologram. "Section operates at a level which transcends national borders. We do not act in direct opposition to the president, but we are not inside any power structure that recognizes him, either. Whichever of us called on your skills first would get you since we try very hard to simply avoid each other."

"Unless you wanted us more," Jim guessed. These people were black ops, so far outside the law that they made the NID look like boy scouts.

She frowned. "I wouldn't put our organization at odds with the American government over one operative. However, that does bring us to our next piece of business. Congratulations Lieutenant Colonel Ellison." Nikita pulled a paper out of the file in front of her, sliding it across the table, and Jim pulled it close, reading the paperwork with shock that just grew as he finally got to the signatures at the bottom.

"Jim?" Blair asked.

"It's an official promotion. At least, it appears to be an official promotion," Jim said as he looked at Nikita suspiciously. "I've never known of anyone to skip 'major' altogether or to get promoted after leaving active duty."

"According to the president, you are on active duty, if not in the official armed services. If certain agencies decide to reactivate your commission, the rank will offer you some protection."

"I hate this cloak and dagger manipulation shit," Blair muttered. "They can't just reactive his commission."

"Actually, yes, they can, Chief."

"Which is another concern," Nikita broke in just when Blair opened his mouth to tell them exactly what he thought of the military and their rules. Right now, Jim would actually prefer the military because at least he understood their rules. Section was an unknown, and the longer he was in this room with Nikita, the more unknown it was feeling. Michael and Madeline with their calm adherence to their sadistic rules made sense to him; Nikita didn't. And in this world of covert ops, anything you couldn't understand had a good chance of killing you.

Nikita pulled a set of papers out of the folder and slid it to Jim. Glancing down, his eyes went wide as he spotted Blair's name on the familiar papers. "No." Jim growled the word, half pushing himself out of his seat, and the guard at the door stepped forward.

"Whoa, hey, let's just all calm down here," Blair quickly jumped in. "This is nothing worth getting shot in the back over," he said to Jim, his voice desperate.

Jim stood, still leaning over the table as he pushed the enlistment papers toward Blair. The gasp of air told Jim exactly when Blair had figured out what Section was doing.

"This is only an option," Nikita said as she still sat just as calm and cool as ever, not even twitching at Jim's hostility. "Colonel Ellison, your commission can be reactivated, but the government has no such hold over Dr. Sandburg."

"So you want to give them control? No way lady," he snapped. He could hear the guard behind him take another step forward, the man's heartbeat speeding up as he stepped closer.

"Think about the alternative. If the government has no way to legally draft Blair, that leaves them with two options: not drafting him or illegally drafting him."

The truth hit Jim like a punch to the stomach and he sat heavily. "I can't function without him, and if they illegally take him, he'll cause far more problems than he's worth," Jim pointed out quickly.

"You can function without him," Nikita countered. "You have already shown that you can use your senses for weeks even when Dr. Sandburg is out of town."

"I can talk to him over the phone. I'm not under duress in a government facility," Jim countered.

She nodded. "And you haven't finalized a bond between you. We have conducted extensive research into the role of the guide since Dr. Sandburg showed us just how far we had misjudged the abilities of a Sentinel with a dedicated companion. I will be happy to provide all our research which will demonstrate why many agencies do see you as capable of functioning without Dr. Sandburg. However, even if they accept the need for his presence, that does not protect you. It simply means they will need to acquire you illegally."

"Like you did?" Blair asked, and that was not a friendly tone of voice. Nikita turned to him and tilted her head.

"Yes. However, we are an enormous underground organization with information and resources that reach into every government in the world. I am not exaggerating when I say that Section has the power to end governments and redesign the map. We have the ability to allow you to leave once the mission is complete because you cannot leave our intelligence network without leaving the planet."

"It's all about power to you people. The power to play with lives like they're little tinker toys you can shove around on a board. So not cool."

"I agree," Nikita said softly, and that agreement stopped Blair when any other argument would have sent him spinning off into a lecture about power and politics.

"You... what?"

"I agree that the power of Section is formidable and potentially dangerous, and that power must be limited. That is why I cannot promise to protect you if your own government comes after you. For me to arbitrarily throw all the resources behind an action against a particular government would change power balances that simply cannot be disturbed. However, if you are an official reserve officer, that would give them a legal way to acquire your services and negate the need for any illicit attempts."

"Man, classic manipulation. We only have your word on any of this. Your word that Alex was dangerous or the NID is interested in Jim. I'm not sure your word is worth anything, lady." Blair was ready to get to his feet, and Jim reached over and laid a hand on his guide's arm. For one second, Blair remained tensed and half out of his seat, but then he sank back down.

"I will have the files sent to your room. You will have access to the internet and government databases so you can check anything you want," Nikita offered.

"Check through your computer system. How can we trust any of this?" Blair took the enlistment papers with his name and shoved them across the table. They flew to the far side where they fluttered to the floor.

"Because if I was trying to manipulate you, I would put your signature on those papers," Nikita pointed out calmly. "I am offering that as an option to try and protect the position of two valuable operatives. If you choose to ignore the offer, that is your choice." Nikita leaned forward, her long fingers tapping on the table top. "However, if the government takes Jim, you have to decide if you would rather go with him or remain behind."

"I'd rather he stayed behind," Jim said firmly. Blair shot him a quick look, and Jim could read the frustration there. Blair hated being left behind, but this was one case where Jim wasn't just being overprotective.

"Your choice," Nikita said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I simply wished for you to understand that this is not a relationship in which we demand your services without offering the protection we promised. Section has taken steps to protect your position any number of times."

"And now you want payment," Blair said smugly as he leaned back and crossed his arms. Jim was pretty much reading the situation the same way, and the power had definitely shifted somewhere along the way. The last time, Section had threatened them with the biggest stick it could find and then offered a small carrot of hope before tossing them back out on the street in Cascade. Now, Nikita was trying to convince them of the rewards of being in Section, and she hadn't threatened them even once. In covert ops, change was never good. Jim wondered just how long this kinder, gentler version of Section had been holding power because he didn't think it would keep power for long.

Nikita tilted her head toward Blair, silently agreeing with him. Then she turned to Jim. "The operation is scheduled for a three-week window. Eight days for briefings and training with your team, five days reconnaissance at the target site, and a seven day window in which to achieve your objective. Before your team comes, I want to brief you on who you will be working with. You will be in command of the mission, and I expect you to take care of the lives of our operatives as well as you guard the life of your guide."

"I've never thoughtlessly or recklessly put men's lives on the line," Jim almost growled. Nikita looked at him for a long second and then nodded and tapped on the controls set into the table.

"Captain Robert Makepeace, a field commander with several citations for meritorious service." A man with sandy brown hair just starting to recede and a square face appeared above the table.

Jim raised his eyebrows at the colonel's insignia on his uniform. "CAPTAIN Makepeace?"

"He lost rank after being convicted of treason against his country," Nikita commented, and Jim nearly choked.

"Treason. No, I don't want him anywhere near Sandburg during this."

Nikita leaned back and considered him, and for the first time, Jim could see that same coldness that had been so much a part of both Michael and Madeline. Here was a woman who would torture him just to get what he wanted. That raw, vicious flash vanished, and again she smiled, although this time it had an edge of annoyance to it. "He acted in a way that he believed was best serving the needs of his country. His actions were neither thoughtless or without official sanction from some segments of the government. However, he also understands that if he double crosses anyone at Section, he will be summarily taken out back and shot in the head. He will not pose a problem."

Nikita hit another button and a woman appeared, short with short blonde hair and a pouty face that made her look younger than she probably was. "Lieutenant Clare Tobias, an engineer specializing in high-tech and reverse engineering. She was part of the same organization that led Makepeace to his treason although they served in separate units and didn't know each other. She was also convicted of treason."

"Nice bunch of teammates here," Blair snorted. Nikita ignored him and flipped to another figure.

"Korporal Miko Bruhn and Grenader Hannu Knudsen are recruits from the Norwegian Defense Force." Both men looked like escapees from a skiing movie with blond hair and huge shoulders. Bruhn had a nasty burn scar down one side of his face, though.

"More traitors?" Blair asked sweetly.

"No. Quite the opposite. An oberstløytnant—a lieutenant colonel—raped a Muslim woman and when he was seen by one of her brothers, this colonel blamed Grenader Knudsen. When Knudsen's corporal attempted to provide an alibi, both men were accused of rape. The situation was degenerating quickly when we faked the men's deaths and offer them a position in Section. Bruhn is excellent with munitions and explosives; Knudsen is security.

Nikita tapped and a new figure appeared in the hologram. This one had reddish hair and a sharp gaze that made Jim look at him twice. He must have been exceptionally good looking when he was young, but now he had a slightly tired expression.

Nikita's heart pounded faster as she offered his name. "Karl Jurgen, Section operative and one of the best. He specializes in interrogation and profiling, but works from the field rather than in our profiling offices."

"You have a relationship with him," Jim guessed.

Nikita looked at him sharply and then glanced over at the guard once before focusing on Jim again. "I once did. I was led to believe he died, and we have never attempted to pursue anything since I took control of Section."

"Whoa, wait, you took control?" Blair blurted out. Jim leaned back, enjoying the slight flush as Nikita finally slipped. She wasn't the professional Michael or Madeline had been, and Jim wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing. For the first time since finding Michael in his living room, Jim felt the Section's noose around his neck loosen. They never would have escaped from Michael, but Nikita... she might be a different matter. "Where's Michael?" Blair asked.

Blair's question made Nikita's pupils dilate slightly. The answer to that question definitely distressed her.

"He's retired."

Blair opened his mouth, and Jim tightened his hand on Blair's arm. Blair really didn't want to know more. When Blair snapped his mouth closed, Nikita got an almost amused expression.

"Despite your assumptions, he actually did retire. His wife was killed, and he is raising his son as far from covert ops and Section as possible."

"But still on your radar?" Jim prodded. He was fairly sure she was telling the truth, but the more she talked, the more chances he had to either verify her story or catch her in a lie. If Section allowed top line operatives to actually retire, the system had definitely changed.

"As I said, short of leaving the planet, you never leave Section control," Nikita said with a smile. "And that brings us to your mission objective.

"Oh man, no way are we tracking down someone who slipped your leash," Blair snorted.

"I don't have the authority to send you off-planet, and I can find anyone I want on the planet," Nikita said. "However, right now, I'm more concerned about the fact that aliens are trying to establish roots on our planet. Your objective is to identify them and to terminate."

Blair found his voice first, but not until several minutes had passed. "Aliens?" he squeaked. Jim had never heard that particular tone from his guide before.

"You have got to be kidding," Jim said slowly, not sure what game Nikita was playing, but not liking it one bit.

"Your team is arriving. Captain Makepeace will brief the entire team on the next bit," Nikita said with a slightly sadistic smile. Jim was still focusing on her heartbeat, struggling to find some evidence that the woman was lying to him as his new team started walking through the conference room door.

"Makepeace," Nikita offered with a tilt of her head. Jim stood, listening to the man's heart race faster as he saw Nikita sitting at the head of the table. Covering his nervousness, Makepeace stepped into the room and focused on Jim. "This is Jim Ellison," Nikita offered. "He's commanding the mission."

"*He* is." Makepeace made the words into a clear challenge. Even without looking over, Jim could tell that Nikita had an unhappy expression because Makepeace's heart pounded just a little faster as his gaze flicked to her. "Yes ma'am," he offered after an unhappy silence. Jim didn't need sentinel senses to figure out just how Nikita had secured his cooperation. He wondered if Makepeace had been tortured in the same damn chair he had been when he first arrived. Section probably had an entire wing of soundproofed rooms with nice handy torture chairs. But he had to give Makepeace credit. The man remained outwardly calm and even as his heart slowly settled into a regular beat. Of course, that didn't stop the sour stench of fear-soaked hormones from making Jim's nose itch.

"I'm Blair Sandburg." Blair got out of his chair and moved forward, holding out his hand, and Makepeace looked absolutely lost for a second, like he didn't know what to do with a man offering to shake hands.

"Robert Makepeace," he offered in return. Robert... not captain. Jim filed that information away for later. "Do we have a preliminary target, ma'am?" Makepeace asked Nikita.

"The rest of the team is coming," Nikita said, but Makepeace definitely took the words as a rebuke because his heart did a fast half-step before settling back into a rhythm.

"Man, eight days to learn to work with a whole new team, which is better than last time, but still. You know, most literature on sociometric orientation in group dynamics would suggest that eight days is totally not even long enough to set the group dynamics," Blair complained mildly. Yep, stress Blair, and random academic babble just sort of spilled out. Jim still remembered the first day the kid had stayed with him… he'd been nervous about being in Jim's house and had babbled about tribal warriors and street gangs and Senate races, making connections that Jim still didn't understand to this day.

"We tend to employ an empirical-statistical orientation to group dynamics," Nikita answered with an amused smile. Jim focused on the two new team members coming into the room. Karl Jurgen looked older than in the hologram, the first signs of gray in his hair, but from the way the woman next to him smiled up, she still found him attractive. The woman was Clare Tobias. Her hair was longer and darker than in the hologram, but she still had that childlike face as she looked around the room, her eyes carefully avoiding Nikita even as she studied the others, her eyes on Makepeace the longest. The part of Jim's brain that had once commanded made a mental note to make sure she understood that he was the top of the chain of command, not Makepeace. Nikita had the power to force him to work with a traitor, but he wasn't about to let the man take any kind of control over the members of his team.

"Well, yeah, you totally would. But Cartwright and Zander totally overemphasized the behavioral elements. Empirical-statistical and exchange theory are both the last bastions of the 'people as automatons' crowd. So not for me," Blair argued with Nikita. Tobias and Makepeace both looked at Blair uneasily, but Jurgen got an expression of almost amusement on his face as he made eye contact with Jim.

"But the theory is useful in predicting behavior; isn't that the defining characteristic of what's valid?" Nikita asked, one eyebrow up. Jim divided his attention between the last of his arriving team members and Blair's debate with Nikita.

Blair shook his head, his ponytail swinging. "Sadly, the social comparison theory is way more predictive."

"In the subgroups you've studied, I have no doubt of that. Section functions on a much more..." Nikita paused and Jim glanced over at her. She was still amused so Blair hadn't managed to piss her off yet. "... a more egalitarian model."

"Egalitarian?!" Blair almost choked on the word, and even Jim had trouble controlling a smile at that. You tell 'em, he thought to himself as Blair got that intense look he sometimes did right before he ripped some patrol officer a new asshole for using an ethnic slur. "Oh man, what universe are you living in? Section... egalitarian? You are like the epitome of totalitarianism. This place is ready to implode under the collective gravity of the power struggle around here."

Jim watched as Jurgen smiled widely, obviously amused. The ski twins slid into place at the table, one pushing Blair's enlistment papers aside with his foot as they both ignored the debate. Tobias and Makepeace both looked ready to run for the hills. Either those two were the nervous sort, which didn't really seem like the kind Section would recruit, or they'd come out of that torture room pretty recently. Jim still remembered sitting on the cot in that white room, his body aching from drugs and shocks that he couldn't get Madeline to stop administering no matter how truthful he was. He had been pretty skittish at that point, so Makepeace and Tobias might just be showing the normal aftereffects of being welcomed into Section's little family. Jim took his seat and Jurgen sat on the other side of Blair, pulling Tobias down into the chair next to him.

"Certainly someone has to be in charge," Nikita said as she leaned forward. "However, beyond the obvious need for leadership, everyone in Section is equal. You do your job, and not only is the world a little safer, but your life will be easier."

"Don't do your job and you get another visit to the soundproofed rooms?" Blair demanded. "Real egalitarian. Equal opportunity torturers."

"Chief," Jim warned as the tone in the room became a little darker. Nikita leaned back.

"Section takes actions that other agencies do not--but do not ever assume you understand why. Section and every member of Section risks more every day than most people ever will in a lifetime, and the result is a world that hasn't yet self-destructed," Nikita said quietly.

Blair narrowed his eyes, and Jim knew that look. "Typical ingroup-outgroup bias. Feel better about yourself by pretending that the group you belong to has a claim to some glory," he snorted. Nikita leaned back.

"Chief, enough," Jim said firmly. "Makepeace, you have the briefing on the target?" Jim redirected the conversation, his hand gripping Blair's arm hard enough to let Blair know that he seriously needed to shut up before finding himself in one of those sound-proofed rooms. Makepeace was the only one standing now, and Jim firmly ignored his guide's glare as he focused on the man.

"Yes, sir," Makepeace offered, his manner all military even though his eyes had dilated in fear. An image appeared in the hologram of a huge circle stone thing. "The Stargate was discovered several decades ago, but the purpose of it was only discovered a few years ago. The Stargate is part of a system of travel designed by an alien race. The system connects worlds with roughly Earth-type environments. As of right now, representatives from Earth have visited almost a hundred planets."

"No way. Oh man, that's... that's wild," Blair breathed, immediately distracted from his rant. Jim was surprised at the venomous look Makepeace gave Blair, but the expression cleared almost immediately as the captain continued with his lecture. The image changed to a man who looked like a villain straight out of a Flash Gordon comic book.

"Apophis is a member of a race called the goa'uld who have used human mythology and religion to impersonate gods and enslave humanity for thousands of years. When we opened the Stargate, the first team encountered and eliminated a goa'uld impersonating Ra. That gave Apophis a chance to take over much of the known universe, although there are an unknown number of other goa'ulds out there. Since then, Apophis had made several attempts to destroy the planet, including a plan to bring two motherships and decimate the cities from orbit."

Jim couldn't have formed words if he tried. The hologram changed again to show pyramids... fucking pyramids floating in space near the moon. Looking at Nikita, Jim desperately searched for some sign that she was pulling some weird practical joke.

"Wait," Blair interrupted. The hologram paused on the image of a colonel with his hair just starting to gray. "Whoa. Okay, I'm overloading here. These goa'uld were on Earth. They were here? Impersonating our gods?"

Makepeace glanced toward Nikita before answering. "Yes. Thousands of years ago, the Egyptian people rebelled against Ra, but before that, a number of different goa'uld had empires here."

"Apophis... the Greek name for Apep the serpent who constantly desired to eat the sun and destroy the earth... that Apophis?" Blair asked. "This is..." Blair just stopped, obviously even he couldn't come up with words for this, which made Jim feel slightly better for not being able to form any words himself. "Oh man. Is anyone else just slightly freaked and seriously hoping that this is some sort of truly bizarre psych test, you know, test our responses to being totally weirded out?"

Tobias nodded. "I thought that when I first saw the files, but I've been off world. I've seen the sort of tech they have."

"You've been off-world? Off the planet-off world?" Blair looked at her with wide eyes, and Jim couldn't decide if Blair was freaked or excited. He seriously hoped his guide was freaked because the man got in enough trouble on this one planet, so he was vetoing the idea of Blair going to any other planets.

Tobias smiled at him, but Makepeace interrupted the moment by loudly continuing with the briefing. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, Air Force, leads the off-world teams and coordinates planetary defense and the diplomatic mission to find allies and technology against the goa'uld."

Jim could hear the stress in his voice at that, and Tobias lost some of the color from her face. If he had to guess, he would say that Makepeace's and Tobias' convictions for treason had something to do with O'Neill, but Makepeace continued the briefing in a voice so controlled that only a sentinel would have noticed the difference. "He is second-in-command at Cheyenne Mountain, base for Stargate Command, and the leader of a field unit known as SG-1. Information from the mountain suggests that a small number of goa'uld have landed in Eastern Europe and have set up a small base disguised as drug runners."

"Why here?" Blair blurted before Jim had a chance to ask that same question.

Makepeace hesitated for a moment before answering. "The goa'uld are ruled by system lords—snakes who have set themselves up as gods and lead armies of warriors called jaffa. Younger or weaker goa'uld either have to serve one of the system lords or they are vulnerable. By setting up here, they think they're safe from the system lords whose attacks have failed."

"How are we defending the planet?" Jim asked. His voice was more calm than even he expected.

Nikita smiled. "Colonel O'Neill is very good at his job. However, he is a member of the American military, and intel suggests that Stargate Command will not lead an official mission into Slovenia, which leaves the NID as the only other agency preparing to act."

"Local military?" Jim asked. The Yugoslav war had been brutal, and there were sure to be both professional soldiers and mercenaries in the area who could do what Jim suspected Nikita wanted done.

"They are not aware of Gate travel or the current threat inside their borders," Nikita answered.

Jim frowned. "Just how well kept is this secret?"

Nikita gave tilted her head as though considering something for a second before answering. "The American military has not informed anyone. Right now, the president, the joint chiefs, a half dozen money men in Washington, the NID, a few dozen scientists, a few hundred soldiers, and Section are the only ones aware of this situation."

"Any more than that and we'd have a panic. We can't afford to have our off-world missions compromised with in-fighting," Makepeace hurried to add. The man might be a traitor, but he still had some loyalty to the program.

"The conspiracy to top all conspiracies," Blair said so softly that Jim didn't think anyone else heard him.

"The danger is having these things breed. We still aren't entirely certain how the reproduction cycle works, but one female can spawn thousands of little snakes. After they spend some time incubating inside a jaffa's stomach, they can take over a human being by burrowing into the back of the skull and turning it into a host."

Jim sat straight up, but before he could say anything, Blair beat him there. "Host? Host as in these things get in the brain? Okay, now I know this is a psych test. Man, this is a nightmare… a horror movie. No fucking way."

"One of those things got in my friend. I watched him trapped in his own body as a snake took him over. The surgeons tried to remove it, and the thing just burrowed deeper into his brain," Makepeace snapped. "You have no idea what we're fighting here."

"What's our exposure?" Jim asked, forcing himself to stay calm when every instinct in him wanted him to recoil in horror. Blair was right—this was a nightmare.

"Minimal," Nikita broke in. The image of Colonel O'Neill vanished and a snakelike creature with gill/wing things floated in the air above the table. "They don't seem to change hosts very often, which might be due to the fact that they are vulnerable when out of a host and which might equally be some cultural taboo against changing bodies of which we are not aware. Profilers are severely limited in the information that has been gathered so far. Dr. Sandburg, Jurgen… you are to observe any targets, making sociological observations to help the profilers better predict goa'uld behavior in the future. If Stargate Command ever fails, we will be the last line of defense, and we need to be prepared. Colonel Ellison, the rest of your team will focus on first identifying all targets and then eliminating them. If the team is identified, eliminate the targets you have access to, but as long as you have not been identified, give Sandburg and Jurgen time to make any pertinent observations."

"How do we identify the targets?" Jim asked. Blair reached over and rested his hand on Jim's arm, and Jim could almost hear Blair's thoughts. Jim had once told Section that he would die before becoming their attack dog, but for these creatures, he was willing to make an exception.

"We can't, Colonel," Nikita admitted, "not without using technology that would immediately reveal your presence; however, you can. The last sentinel team who encountered a goa'uld was sent to observe one who has been on earth for a long period of time." The hologram shimmered to show a dark eyed man with floppy hair and a neatly trimmed beard that screamed 'villain.' These aliens had obviously watched far too much Flash Gordon before trying to infiltrate Earth culture. "This is Seth. He's considered a low-priority target and what psychological data we do have comes from observation of his compound. He appears to be both solitary and unwilling to attract any attention. However, when our sentinel team came within a mile, the sentinel began to exhibit signs of distress. Near the compound, the sentinel lost control and attempted to enter the compound and kill the goa'uld with his bare hands. His guide barely managed to pull him out, and she sustained a serious injury."

"No way." Blair shook his head. "No way are you sending him in if this is going to—"

"Enough," Jim said, cutting him off.

"Not if you're considering—"

"Enough, Chief," Jim growled as he turned to his obstinate guide. Blair opened his mouth, and Jim leaned forward. "I've heard your objections, and I am officially ordering you down." Jim made his words harsh, far more harsh than he would ever speak to Blair, at least not without expecting immediate and vicious retaliation in the form of either a lecture or hair remover in his shampoo. He just hoped Blair got the message because he could not afford to have his command questioned in front of these people.

Blair blinked at him in surprise for a second, his face pinking as that brain of his processed the fact that everyone in the room was watching his reaction. "Yes, sir," Blair managed with only a touch of sarcasm.

"What weaponry can we expect on the aliens' part?" Jim said as he smoothly turned back to Nikita.

He had no illusions about Blair letting this subject drop, but hopefully he would be willing to have it in private where the rest of the team wasn't watching. Already Jim could feel the tensions. Makepeace resented Jim's authority and was playing nice only because he feared Nikita more than he hated Jim. Tobias had that same fear of Nikita, but in her case, she translated that into a jumpiness that left her suspiciously watching while her fingers clutched the chair tightly. Bruhn and Knudsen were more passive, but Knudsen was definitely watching Bruhn for his cues, so that was another person who would hesitate to follow orders, listening to Jim only once he confirmed through Bruhn that the order should be followed, and in combat, that could mean precious seconds lost. Jurgen… he was the wildcard. He just looked amused. If this were the Army, Jim would outright refuse to take a team like this into the field, and now he had just days of training in order to get them all to follow his command. Jim was getting that same sinking feeling he'd felt before the Peru mission.

Nikita paused before answering, studying Jim closely for several seconds. "Bruhn has that report, but before I turn the briefing over to him, I want to point out that you should expect resistance on two fronts: the aliens and the NID."

"The NID," Jim said flatly, and he could hear Tobias' heart speed up again. Makepeace had a perfectly calm face and his heart was so steady that Jim suspected the man was using covert techniques designed to defeat polygraphs. So, that was one member of the team who knew exactly what a sentinel could do. Jim filed that away as one more piece of information on his team. He truly needed full jackets on these people before taking them into battle.

"The NID has a stated objective to capture and study the goa'uld. Some sources suggest they are interested in breeding."

"What?" Tobias blurted. "No, they want to defeat the goa'uld, not breed more." Jim glanced over as Tobias stared at Nikita with a combination of denial and anger for just a second. Then she blushed deeply and dropped her gaze to the table as she realized just who she was calling a liar.

Nikita didn't seem offended. "The NID is interested in the goa'uld's ability to heal and strengthen the human body and the genetic memories that are passed from one generation to another."

"Genetic memories?" Blair echoed.

"The NID would like access to those memories even if there is no current data on whether the memories are specific enough to include details such as technology or whether the memories are more cultural. However, Section has determined that keeping a goa'uld in custody at this point carries too high of a risk. We are unaware of their full potential either defensively or offensively, and bringing one into the middle of an operation could prove fatal. That analysis was shared with the NID and rejected, so if your mission is compromised by the NID in any way, you are authorized to cancel all NID operatives."

"Oh man, does she mean…" Blair let his words trail off as he considered the meaning of that phrase. Jim clenched his jaw at the thought of doing that kind of work again, of putting himself and his team up against human beings who had been ordered into the field. He wasn't as comfortable with that as he was with the idea of eliminating the aliens who had set up on earth; however, Nikita wasn't giving him much choice in the matter.

Jim nodded. After a second of silence, Miko Bruhn with with scarred face stood up and a hologram of a strange curved weapon appeared above the table. "The zat'n'ktel…" he started, and Jim focused on the image. If he had to go up against this stuff, he needed to know exactly what he and his guide were getting into.

Blair dropped onto one of the beds and pulled his knees up. He wanted to pace, but one pacing person per room was a rule, and Jim was definitely filling their quota, so instead he fingered the small talisman he'd worn since shortly after getting released by Section the first time around. The general panic of earlier had vanished under a very specific, very focused panic all centered around Jim. Michael and Madeline had understood that a Sentinel was instinctively driven to protect, and even the NID seemed to have figured that out, but now Nikita was ordering Jim to go in and execute sentient creatures. Even more--she wanted him to execute sentient creatures who were probably going to set off all of Jim's instincts. Section officially sucked.

Even though he wanted nothing more than to talk about all this, Blair rested his chin on his knees and waited for Jim to give some sort of sign that he had come out of this weird soldier-mode he had going. When Jim had ordered him to shut up, Blair had felt the hot flare of embarrassment and pain. Oh, he understood why Jim had done it, but it didn't actually erase how hurt he felt. And he really didn't need to give Jim a reason to repeat that bad behavior in private where Blair would have to hurt the man. No one ordered him around. Well, Section did, but that was so not the same thing.

Jim stopped near the door, his back still stiff as he cocked his head. Recognizing the stance, Blair got up and moved to Jim's side, resting his hand on Jim's back. After a second, Jim straightened up.

"Anything?" Blair asked softly.

Jim sighed heavily. "Just the sound of ordinance. We're closer to the firing range than last time," Jim said before he went over to the bed and sagged, the military stiffness that had been holding him up draining out.

"Seriously shitty," Blair pointed out as he sat next to Jim.

Jim gave him a dirty look, one that was all Jim Ellison and none of that cold soldier who had replaced Jim for a while out in that briefing room. "Shitty doesn't even cover it, Chief."

"Nope," Blair agreed. The silence felt awkward between them, and Blair wished he knew the words to use to start this conversation. Oh, he had plenty of words… things like, 'What the fuck are you thinking agreeing to this,' but Jim probably wouldn't react very well.

"I'm sorry," Jim said softly, interrupting Blair's thoughts, and before Blair could even open his mouth in surprise, Jim had reached out and pulled him close in a one-armed hug.

"Oh man, this is not your fault—except for giving them the dissertation which is totally your fault." Blair thought about that for a second. "And except where you just agreed to go on a mission to execute aliens. I mean, for all we know, Section is lying about everything and these guys are just trying to find a nice place to retire. Maybe for them Earth is like Florida and we've just been ordered to take out the alien equivalent of Ira and Edna Wiezman from Hoboken."

For a second, Jim scrubbed his face with his hand, so at least Blair knew Jim was considering what he said. After getting told to 'shut up' in the middle of the briefing, Blair hadn't been entirely sure Jim would listen to his fears. "Nikita wasn't lying, and neither was Makepeace," Jim said slowly.

"Fine. Maybe they're wrong then. This whole secret-military system they have set up totally precludes double checking conclusions against an independent third-party. Maybe their paranoia has just gotten them twisted around."

"If that's the case, then we'll have a few days on the ground to do our own recon, but Blair, we can't walk in there expecting to shake hands and make nice," Jim pointed out.

"See? See, thinking like that totally reinforces preconceived notions. We walk in there expecting them to be bad guys, and we interpret everything through this lens that says, 'Whoa, bad guy here,' and then our objectivity is shot."

"Whoa, bad guy here?" Jim repeated, the corner of his mouth tightening suspiciously.

"You're on thin ice with me right now, so if you laugh, you had better be prepared to guard your personal care products or risk finding Nair in your shampoo," Blair threatened. Unfortunately, the threat just made Jim slip from almost smile into an out-and-out smirk as he rested a hand on Blair's shoulder.

"No laughing, Chief," Jim promised in a voice that sounded a little too close to a laugh, but then his face got more serious. "But what Makepeace said about one of these things getting into his friend—he was telling the truth. If these things can take over a person's body, they're on the hostile list." Jim's jaw tightened for a second, bulging as Jim struggled with some inner emotion. It sometimes amazed Blair that other people thought Jim was so unreadable because it seemed like every emotion Jim felt showed up in his jaw. "I could handle this mission a whole lot easier if I knew you were somewhere safe," Jim eventually stopped grinding his teeth to say.

Blair snorted. Give Jim a nice controllable environment… a drug runner or a car thief ring… and Jim was just as happy to throw Blair out there with a pat on the head and an undercover assignment. But let him feel just one bit out of control, and the man reverted to 'stay in the truck.' At least Jim was predictable even if Blair had no idea what to fucking expect out of Section from one second to the next. And the violent thoughts he was having about Nikita were wrecking havoc on his karma. He fingered the crystal around his neck.

"Jim, just listen to me, man. I'm not saying that the thing in Makepeace's friend was an Ira or Edna Wiezman from Hoboken. I'm thinking that burrowing into someone else's brain without an invitation pretty much puts you in the bad guy column. But these guys who've landed here… what damage have they done? This Seth… Section said he's been here a long time, but he obviously isn't trying to take over the world or burrowing into random people's brains because that would leaked to the press. So maybe we have a few more retirees looking for a quiet place to drop out of the rat race."

"Chief, are you listening to yourself?" Jim demanded, and Blair scooted back an inch and crossed his arms. He hated it when Jim pulled this 'me-mature, you-flake' shit on him.

"Unlike some people, I actually do think about what I'm saying before it falls out of my mouth," Blair snapped back, and at least Jim had the grace to get a little flushed.

"These things burrow in brains."

"And they cause people to live longer and remember an entire alien culture."

Jim's face got that cold, hard expression that made Blair check the exits and mentally map which friends he could hang with until Jim calmed down, but that wasn't exactly an option here. "Listen Darwin, they use humans as hosts. They take over fucking bodies. They're bad guys."

"The one who took over Makepeace's friend? Absolutely. But how do we know that these guys we're going after weren't invited into the bodies they're using. Oh man, I can name you a dozen anthropology students who would be having a battle royale for the right to sign up as a host."

"What happened to this being a nightmare?"

"What happened to you listening to my opinion?"

"What?" Jim stood and started pacing again. "Look Sandburg, I am listening to your opinion, and when we're in position, I'm willing to keep an open mind. But considering they use humans as hosts and considering that they set Sentinel instincts on edge, I'm not expecting a round of Kum Ba Yah. "

"Shit." Blair dropped his head into his hands and let his hair hang down around him. Jim was right. If these things set off a Sentinel's protective instincts, then something in a Sentinel recognized them as an inherent threat, maybe even some sort of genetic memory going back to when these things were on Earth before. God, Jim wasn't the one who was losing objectivity here, he was. He was letting wishful thinking cloud his judgment.

"Chief?" Jim's hand rested on his back and Blair took several deep breaths and tried to center himself. "Blair, you know I respect your opinion, and I will keep this conversation in mind. I'll try not to kill Ira and Edna Wiez-liens."

Blair nodded and sat up, looking over at Jim who was definitely looking worried. "Oh man, I just want them to be good guys, you know?"

"It's one of your best traits, Chief, this need to see the best in people."

"Yeah, but it makes me do stupid shit. And right now, I just…" Blair took a deep breath. "I don't want to be part of an execution squad. I don't want you to be part of an execution squad."

"God, Chief." Jim made the whispered word as a prayer as he dropped onto the bed and pulled Blair into a one-armed hug. "I’m so sorry."

Blair leaned into the embrace, closing his eyes as he fought a storm of emotions all raging for his attention. "Hey, so not your fault."

"I'm the Sentinel. You're just getting dragged along for the ride, and most people would have moved out and abandoned me long before this, so I guess I owe you something… an apology, a thank you… a tune up on that piece of shit you call a car." Jim gave a crooked smile and shrugged, and Blair choked as the unexpected humor broke the mood. Jim chuckled with him, the arm around Blair's shoulder's tightening. "We'll make it through, and remember, your only part in this is to observe and record behaviors. That's what you focus on."

"While you're focusing on killing them," Blair sighed.

"Blair…" Jim stopped and cleared his throat as his arm dropped away from Blair. "This isn't exactly the first time I've done this kind of mission."

"Oh yeah, I got that," Blair nodded. "That's why they think you're different. You were covert ops before you were a Sentinel, so they think you can do the nasty work."

"And I probably can. It's a matter of doing what you have to and not thinking about it too much, but if I have to stop and discuss every step with you…" Jim stopped again, but Blair got the message clear enough. Emotionally, Jim couldn't handle having to justify his actions.

"It's just a job, right?" Blair asked. Jim patted his knee and then let his hand rest there on Blair's leg.

"I will think about what you've said, but you have to trust me to make the right call in the field."

"Oh man, you know I trust you," Blair immediately blurted. "I have followed you into some pretty screwed up situations because I totally trusted you to have some plan for getting us out. I jumped out of a helicopter in the middle of the night without a parachute because you told me to, so I think I have the trust part covered." Blair gave a shivered as he remembered that night—the night they had helped Michael rescue Nikita and had then made their unsuccessful escape attempt.

"We have a bigger problem here than trust, though," Jim said softly, and the tone made the hairs on Blair's neck stand up. "This team…"

"Completely fucked up. Oh man, they are the definition of dysfunctional."

"You caught that, huh?" Jim smiled, and Blair could almost convince himself that he wasn't scared shitless. After years, he had gotten good at lying to himself. He could almost convince himself that he didn't care about what the other cops whispered when they didn't know he was around, he could almost convince himself that excitement and not fear made him tremble when the gunfire started, and he could almost convince himself that he loved Jim like a brother when the man smiled at him like that. Self-deception, thy name is Sandburg.

"How could I not catch that? Karl Jurgen has a totally inappropriate affect, Bruhn and Knudsen seem pretty freaking co-dependent, and Makepeace hates my guts." Blair made a face and then shrugged. He worked with all kinds of people who didn't like him, and it hadn't stopped him from going to the station or speaking his mind when some officer was out of line. His job was to help the department break the cycle of victimization and abuse, and if taking an officer out into a hallway to rip him a new asshole for calling some woman a 'cheap whore' earned him a little hatred from the rank and file, he didn't really care. And honestly, he didn't care about Makepeace's issues either. "Not that I care about Makepeace hating my guts."

"I care," Jim growled. "He'll be respectful or he'll answer to me."

"You know, when I said all that stuff about you as a Blessed Protector, I was joking… you know that, right?" Blair asked.

Jim got a wry smile and reached over to ruffle Blair's hair. "Yeah, but he has to understand that you're my second-in-command. I don't like the lack of ranks here."

"Maybe I should sign those enrollment papers. Of course, then I'd be Lieutenant Sandburg, which really wouldn't help me much with Captain Makepeace, would it?"

"Traitor Makepeace," Jim pointed out. "I hope they have a more interesting dinner menu this time around," he said in a sudden change of topic that clearly ended the discussion of missions and teams. Blair sighed and wandered back to his bed as Jim thumbed through the notebook that had been left next to the phone. There were definitely more pages in the 'room service' book this time around, but Blair focused on the neat blue folders lined up on his bed in exactly the same location that the gun manuals were on Jim's bed, like Section's idea of those little mints that good hotels left on your pillow.

"Efficacy of aromahormonaltherapy for androstenol withdrawl in Sentinels."

"The Whitten effect in proximal female secondary populations."

" Estratetraenol and androstenol interactions in cross-sex Sentinel pairings."

Blair fanned the reports out so that he could read more of the titles.

"Chief, you okay?" Jim asked. "You're heart's racing."

"Oh man, I'm more than okay," Blair said as he stared down at the pile of neatly typed reports. Jim came over and glanced at the reports spread across the bed.

"Am I going to convince you to turn off the light and get any sleep before we have to report in the morning?" Jim asked wryly. Blair picked up a report and flipped open to the précis, scanning the neat conclusions drawn by scientists who'd had access to an entire population of Sentinels. Eighteen in this sample size: fifteen male and three female. Blair grabbed another and checked it. Twenty-one Sentinels" fifteen male and six female. Blair felt like a kid in a candy store.

Behind him, Jim gave an exaggerated sigh. "I'm not even going to bother asking you what you want for dinner, but you'd better believe you're going to eat something when it comes." Blair shoved most of the reports to one side and grabbed a pen as he started reading about the interactions of various pheromones when male and female Sentinels met face to face. Oh man. This… this was almost worth being kidnapped for.

"You can take the scientist out of the university, but he's still annoyingly oblivious the minute he gets his hands on a research paper," Jim sighed as he picked up to phone to order dinner.

The black-shirted operative opponent slid out of his cover, bringing his zat up as he quickly moved to take new cover behind a pillar. Jim silently cursed, broke position and moved to cover the new man even as he tried to figure out who the operative was targeting. No one should be there. As he moved, he caught sight of brown curls through the fonds of a squat palm plant.

The black shirt came around the opposite side of the pillar, his zat already held out, and Jim tightened his finger on the trigger, flinching as the air electrified and made the hair on his arm stand up. Blue trails flickered across the man's body as he jerked forward, twitched and fell to the ground.

"Sandburg!" Jim snapped, and Blair's head popped up with that wide-eyed expression that made it so hard to chew the man out, but this was the third time he'd screwed up, which put him one up on Tobias. When they'd been training with Michael, Blair had learned this shit at a speed that had amazed Jim, but now Blair was worse than in his first year as a ride-along.

"Which simulation are we running?" Jim demanded, his arms crossed as he glared at his guide, and there was the slow blush as Blair glanced around. One by one, the others stood up from their own positions as they realized the training simulation had officially ended. Karl Jurgen, Blair's supposed partner during this maneuver was already twenty yards farther, and Blair was completely out of position. Jim sincerely hoped that he could keep the situation from turning into a firefight where Blair had to cover someone, but it could happen. It could happen, and he needed to know that Blair had his head in the game.

"Oh man, okay, I'm supposed to be with Karl. I'm sorry… I'm just not really with it today, you know?" Blair looked around at the various members of the… Jim hesitated to call them a team. Clare Tobias had an expression of sympathy on her face and Karl Jurgen was studying Blair with that almost amused expression he so often had. Makepeace, however, looked like Simon after four hours of meetings with the mayor. His aggression set Jim's teeth on edge, but rather than risk alienating the man, he glared at the black-shirted operative now groaning his way back to consciousness before glaring at his guide.

"You should have been in position, and then I wouldn't have had to shoot someone. This isn't a game, Chief." Jim could feel his anger surge, fed by the worry that Blair wasn't taking this seriously enough. Taking a deep breath, Jim waited to see if anyone was going to try to jump to Blair's defense. While he couldn't allow them to make excuses for his very-obviously distracted guide, an attempt to defend him would at least show some sign of camaraderie.

Blair blushed and then shoved his zat gun back into its holster. "I said I'm sorry." Blair's voice had that tight edge that warned of a coming explosion, and Jim could feel his guts knot. The last thing he needed was for Blair to get his righteous indignation going. The guys at the station might think of Blair as being laid back, but Jim knew that the man had a temper and if pushed far enough, he turned into a vicious verbal time bomb ready to explode.

"Sandburg, Knudsen, sit this one out. In fact, take Tobias and Jurgen with you and get something to eat while we run a few additional simulations," Jim ordered as he split the team. Bruhn and Knudsen exchanged a quick glance and Makepeace's already sour expression turned a shade more sour.

"Jim, I'm okay. I promise, I'll do better next time," Blair quickly vowed with an almost desperation that Jim could read in his face.

"It's fine, Chief. Just get something to eat, do whatever you do to get your head back in the game, and come back ready to work in an hour."

Blair stared at him for a second, for long enough that the others had all gathered near the door leading out of the massive training room. "Chief, just take a break," Jim said more softly, and slowly Blair nodded.

"Hey, I could use some lunch anyway," he shrugged as he headed for the door. Tobias reached out and touched Blair's arm, and Blair smiled at the woman before the small group headed out into the corridor.

The door had no more swung shut before Makepeace had moved to a position near Jim. "Sir, they are not battle ready, Sandburg and Tobias in particular. We should reconfigure the team without them."

"I didn't ask your opinion, soldier," Jim commented coldly. Something had Blair distracted today, but then he'd been up most of the night reading those damn reports, so that something might be as simple as a lack of sleep. Jim allowed his hearing to track Blair through the halls of Section to the nearby communal area where the others were ordering some food. Tobias was nervous. Her mistakes had been more random—sometimes rushing the plan and other times totally missing her cue. And Knudsen was still hesitant to follow Jim's orders.

"I said stand down." Jim turned and glared at the man, daring him to take this just one step farther. Bruhn looked from one to the other in concern until Makepeace finally nodded and stiffened.

Jim scrubbed his face and struggled with his own fraying temper. If he had to guess, he'd say that Knudsen and Bruhn were Nikita's fallbacks… ready to report on any problems and possibly assassinate any member of the team going outside Section guidelines. Jim had seen Michael shoot a member of his own team in the back of the head for not following an order—and a rather trivial order at that—so Jim had no illusions about Section's ruthlessness. And Nikita had to know that Jim would never take that kind of disciplinary action, so it made sense that someone on the team would. Getting angry with Makepeace would simply put the man's life in danger and possibly convince Nikita that none of them were capable of handling this mission. Jim didn't really want to find out what failure led to.

He took a deep breath and continued with a calmness that he didn't feel. "Our mission is to get Sandburg and Jurgen as close as possible for as long as possible. Bruhn, let's run simulation five without you trying to watch Knudsen. Makepeace, you have point," Jim said as he started walking back toward the far end of the football sized room. "Scenario five," he called out to the Section operatives playing hostiles and the techs running the holograms and pyrotechnics.

"Yes, sir," Knudsen barked the words out like a recruit in bootcamp and Jim resisted an urge to just go back to his room and shut himself in. They weren't a team. They weren't going to be a team in a few days.

Listening in on the other half of their team, Jim could hear Blair's voice rattling on about how he was usually much better with missions. No one was rushing to reassure him. Jim gritted his teeth and spent a moment listening to that distant conversation.

"So, Hannu? Isn't that a girl's name? Man, that must not be such a easy name for a soldier to have, huh?" Blair asked. Jim flinched and wondered if he was going to have to go rescue his guide. He didn't feel any easier when a long silence followed.

"Blair... that must not be such an easy name for a man to have," Knudsen finally retorted.

Blair immediately began laughing, the sound bouncing and skittering on the concrete and steel separating Jim from his guide. "Oh man, you have no idea. I learned to talk fast and run faster when I was a kid, but it's not like I have a whole lot of manliness to defend. I let the alpha dogs bash their heads into each other while I just watch from a safe distance, anyway. But you? You like ooze testosterone."

"I... I ooze testosterone?" Jim knew that Knudsen's English was perfect, so he was guessing the confusion he could hear was because the man was trying to understand Sandburg.

"I actually have had no trouble with the name. Hanne is common enough for a woman, but Hannu is Finnish. I am named after my grandfather."

"Ah. Cool. Blair means 'dweller of the plains and fields.' Mom was totally into wandering the earth and getting in touch with her spiritual truths, so she wanted to give me a name that would remind me to do the same. Of course, then I went and hooked up with a cop and started taking on gunmen with water hoses and vending machines, so I'm not so sure it worked."

Jim could hear the disbelief in the silence, but then if he hadn't been there for Blair's adventures in creative weaponry, he probably wouldn't believe it either. And then without taking a breath, Blair was off on how his necklace was topaz, which had supposed mystical properties to sharpen thinking and encourage both creativity and pragmatism. When Blair then went on the placebo effect of psychological talismans, Jim made a mental note to pin his guide down later and figure out what was running through the man's head to get him so worked up. Luckily Tobias was off on the refractive properties of gemstones and Jurgen was happily chatting away about psychological crap. He should have known that Blair would win over the two scientists even if Makepeace clearly still had issues. Makepeace's issues had issues when it came to Blair.

Relegating his guide to the back of his mind, Jim ran the scenario with just Makepeace and Bruhn, watching as the two made it through four checkpoints before Bruhn got tagged. Unlike traditional war games, the opposition was using live fire, and the zat blast caught Bruhn in the middle of his stride so that the jolt make him jerk upright and then fly forward off a step and toward the ground helplessly.

"Hold fire," Jim called as he trotted out from behind his cover, shoving his own zat back into its holster as he hurried to check on the man.

Off to the side, Makepeace was frowning, but Jim didn't have time for the hardass Marine. No way could Makepeace have made colonel if he didn't know how to build a team, but the way he pounced on every mistake was putting everyone on edge. Kneeling next to Bruhn, Jim turned the man's head to check out the damage from the fall. He groaned and started twitching his way back to consciousness when one of the Section opposition members handed him a damp rag.

"You're going to have one hell of a swollen nose tomorrow," Jim said as Bruhn blinked. He handed over the cloth, and Bruhn reached up and wiped the blood off his face as he rolled to his side.

"It's okay. Cooper's a sneaky one," Jim said as he nodded at the Section man who had stepped back as the opposition team in black waited to see what Jim would order. "We're all making mistakes at this point. Let's call it for the day and get an early start tomorrow."

"Sir? We've only been at it for four hours," Makepeace argued. Jim didn't even acknowledge the complaint as he helped Bruhn up. Bruhn's eyes watered a bit, which didn't surprise Jim considering that his nose was still trickling blood. The shock of a zat was bad enough, but falling on your face definitely deserved some time off.

"Why don't you head to medical and see if they can get you cleaned up so you don't look like a mugging victim tomorrow," Jim suggested.

"I know you are soldier, but you're going to be badly bruised, and medical can minimize that bruising. That wasn't a request." Jim took his hand off Bruhn's arm and gave him a stern look.

"Yes, sir," Bruhn quickly answered as he pressed the cloth to his nose and headed for the exit.

"Are we dismissed sir?" one of the black-shirted operatives asked… Jim thought it was Itzhak, but he'd met so many people that he couldn't be sure. Blair would know.

"Yeah, let's knock off and meet here tomorrow at 0600 hours," Jim said, knowing that Blair was going to have a fit, but they really did need serious time practicing. "Have tech support sent all reports from the mission to my quarters."

"Then have him call my quarters, but I want those reports delivered," Jim ordered as he turned and headed for the door. If he was supposed to be a commander, he had to take command, and between the Section operatives who only nominally obeyed and team members who were clearly questioning his authority, he wasn't having much success.

Walking down the hall, Jim ignored Makepeace shadowing him and swiped his security card through the reader and opened the door to the lounge. Jurgen and Tobias were sitting hip to hip right across from Blair who was talking about the eating patterns of the Cofan tribes of Ecuador and Colombia, poking the air with his fork. Knudsen sat a little separate from them, eating his fish and watching the others carefully. When Jim and Makepeace came in, Knudsen studied them, his eyebrows lowering in concern when Bruhn didn't follow.

"He fell and bruised his face. I sent him to medical," Jim said to the man before even greeting anyone else. Knudsen stood up. "Go check on him," Jim suggested as he jerked his head toward the door. Knudsen didn't need a second invitation; he dropped his fork and headed out of the lounge immediately.

"Will he be alright?" Jurgen asked, and at least the man was showing some concern. Blair looked outright sick with worry, which didn't surprise Jim at all.

"Oh man, what happened?" Blair asked before Jim could answer. Jim stood beside his guide and stole a few French fries off his plate.

"He got zatted and fell down some stairs. Training accidents happen," Jim shrugged. A white-uniformed server with gray hair came through the far door to take their meal orders, and Jim ordered a large meal for himself even while stealing Blair's food.

"They always taste better when I steal yours," Jim teased as he sat down next to Blair. "So, has he been boring you with that mystical crystals crap?" Jim asked the other two. Tobias' mouth just about fell open, but Jurgen just gave a huff of laughter.

"Dr. Sandburg is a fascinating man," the profiler offered as he looked from Jim to Blair and back again. Oh yeah, Jim definitely had the impression that the man knew more than he was saying.

Tobias was still shaking her head in disbelief. "But if you were training, how could you have heard that? The enhancement of senses I understand, but the dispersal rate of the sound waves with the physical barriers between the two of you should have prevented any sort of eavesdropping." Clare Tobias stared at him, her pixy face clearly shocked and confused. Blair just looked at Jim with just as much confusion but for a totally different reason, and Jim gave his guide a little shrug. Section knew all about his senses; the team needed to understand as well.

"It's impossible," Tobias said quietly, and that was the word that was guaranteed to set Blair off.

"No way," Blair told Tobias after a brief, shocked pause. "Physical barriers are like totally meaningless. Jim's hearing can interpret the echoes off physical barriers and analyze each sound wave without the two distortions cancelling each other. We did a whole series of tests when we were working on overcoming white noise generators," Blair said enthusiastically.

"You can hear past white noise? Consistently?" Jurgen leaned forward and studied them even more carefully. Jim just reached over and stole more of Blair's fries.

"Oh man, if you're going to steal something, steal the carrots. Vegetables are our friends," Blair complained without trying to actually stop Jim from grabbing more.

Jurgen leaned back in his chair, and Jim chewed on another fry as Tobias finally got her mouth closed. "That's remarkable."

"Coming from a woman who sees aliens as normal, I'm not sure how to take that," Jim joked, finally feeling some of the tension easing in the room. Makepeace continued to sit silent, but at least four of them were talking.

"I'm more fascinated with Dr. Sandburg's coaching," Jurgen offered as he leaned forward again—always moving. "Dr. Sandburg, if you have taught Jim to listen past white noise, then you truly are remarkable considering--."

"It's not like I do anything," Blair said quickly as he shrugged. "Jim's the one with the hearing." Jim could smell the distress starting to poison the air around Blair with a sharp stink.

"Dr. Sandburg, I find it amazing that you have taught Section a lesson about not underestimating the companion, and yet you find it so easy to underestimate yourself. For someone with such wisdom and insight, you are a conundrum," Jergen said with a wry smile as he leaned his chin on his hand.

Blair opened his mouth to say something back, and Jim caught Blair by one arm and stood up. "Right now, Blair and I need to have a little talk. We'll be right back, so just give us a second," Jim assured them before anyone could go and suggest they go back to quarters. To come together as a team, they needed to just talk and to trust each other with information that would start to built trust, but he couldn't concentrate on small talk when Blair's distraction had obviously just turned into something darker.

"But—" Blair started, but Jim had pulled him out of the room before he could even form a protest. In the hallway, Jim let go of Blair's arm and waited for the explosion.

"Oh man, that was so not cool. If you want to talk, then you can ask to talk, not grab me like some fucking kid you're pulling out of the room," Blair snapped. Jim leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, waiting for Blair to get past the distracters and fess up to whatever was bugging him. Blair crossed his arms and glared right back.

"You're the one who's off his game and now smelling of fear. You want to tell me what's going on?" Jim just waited as silence filled the corridor.

"What? You take the fucking cake. I'm in the middle of secret conspiracy central here, and you wonder why I'm freaking out? Cut me some slack, already."

Blair turned to storm back to the breakroom, and Jim caught him by the arm and yanked him back. "Oh no, you were in there discussing the magical, mystical properties of topaz half an hour ago. Now you're freaking out. Talk to me, Chief."

"What?" Jim blinked as he tried to figure out where he'd lost the conversation, but it was a common feeling whenever he was around Blair.

"Topaz. It's a spiritual property, a way to remind myself that I have to think clearly and be practical. It's just a psychological focus," Blair explained, slipping neatly from the anger distraction to the lecture-mode distraction. Jim had always thought of himself as an intelligent, insightful man, but it had taken him two years to figure out just how many ways his guide had to manipulate the world, including him.

"Forget it, Chief. I don't care if topaz is spiritual or sexual. I want to know what has you upset."

Blair froze, his scent growing even sharper as he stared at Jim with wide, blue eyes.

"No way. No. No, I cannot do this now. This is too freaking weird," Blair muttered, and Jim started feeling a sense of dread. Blair never panicked until after the crisis was over, so if Blair was losing it, Jim could feel a very real need to panic clawing up his own guts.

Jim responded to Blair's attempts to physically back away by grabbing his guide and pinning him against the wall with his own body, his chest pressing into Blair's chest and his hands resting on either side.

"We need to trust each other. You need to trust me. Blair, I need you by my side in this or I can't pull this off," Jim said, barely breathing the words in Blair's ear and still aware of how dangerous they were. Blair was almost shaking. "Blair, what the hell has you so spooked?"

"Blair, does this have anything to do with the reports you read last night?" Jim waited, leaning his weight into Blair to silently warn him that they were discussing this even if he had to sit on Blair. Even without an answer, Jim knew he was on the right track because Blair smelled of fear and sweat. "Take this one thing at a time. Tell me one thing from those reports last night," Jim urged.

"Sentinels are addicted to pheromones," Blair blurted. Jim took a step back in surprise, and Blair glanced down the hall as though considering running for it. Reaching out, Jim caught his arm and pulled Blair close.

"Okay, what do you mean addicted?" Jim asked, struggling to stay calm as dark fears whispered… reminded him of Laura and Lila and Veronica and even Caroline. He fought down a gut-level urge to just deny and attack. He might have except in the middle of Section, he couldn't afford to explode.

"Where's the Ellison denial and anger?" Blair asked, looking up at Jim. "I mean, this is totally attacking your sense of control, and let's be honest: you aren't always the most rational when it comes to control issues."

"I'm trying to be rational," Jim said tightly as he had to rein in another stab of anger. "Just explain what you mean by addicted."

"Addicted," Blair said with a snort. "Addicted as in you need pheromones, initially to keep the on-line senses stabilized but then eventually just good old fashioned addicted--medical withdrawal if you don't have access to pheromones type addicted."

"Any pheromones or a particular one?" Jim asked suspiciously and suddenly a few things started making a strange sort of sense.

Jim closed his eyes and struggled to take a few deep breaths as he realized where Blair was going. Fighting every instinct, he let go of his guide and took a step back. It explained the fear. "Blair, I’m not going to take this farther than you're willing to go just because Section has told you that a Sentinel-guide relationship is sexual. I know you're not gay, so if Section thinks we're having sex just to get my senses to work better or because I'm addicted and out of control, they're wrong. We're friends, and I wouldn't do that." Jim kept his voice low and calm as he tried to will Blair to believe him. If Blair ran for it and never wanted to see him again, Jim would understand. He would do his best to blow Section to kingdom come for dropping this little bomb in their laps, but he'd understand Blair's fear and respect his choice.

"Buddy, you have issues," Blair huffed, and suddenly Jim totally lost track of the conversation again. Blair was supposed to be nervous, afraid of Jim; instead he was in Jim's face poking him in the chest. "I'm the one who's had a thing for you since the day I saw you in the hospital. I'm fucking horny for you, and me leaking pheromones into the air hijacked your Sentinel physiology, which so totally explains why you let me move Larry into the loft because, man, that was so out of character."

"Wait," Jim interrupted before Blair could get off on another tangent. "Two years ago, I told you I was bisexual, and you didn't think to fucking mention that you've had a thing for me since day one?" Jim demanded. Okay, he was angry. He had fucking opened up, and Sandburg had just totally denied him any chance to know something he had every right to know.

"Exactly," Blair said in a smug tone of voice that Jim was just not understanding.

That made Blair sigh. "Gay men, and bisexual men who are in a relationship with another man are far more likely than the average person to have a strong preference for a particular physical type."

"You are not this dense, Jim." Blair crossed his arms and glared as though Jim were saying something bizarre.

"Fine. I'll just spell it out for you. I'm not your type, and I didn't want to lose our friendship by making you say that out loud so that it was uncomfortable between us."

"That's what I said. Man, you are acting like a real dick about this. It's not like I knew you were getting addicted to my pheromones; of course, I should have figured something out considering that you lost your mind every time a pretty girl started panting after you."

"Their pheromones," Jim said softly, and that really did make him flinch. Being addicted to Blair's pheromones he could deal with, but his track record with women was bad enough that the probably needed to tell Simon about this so he could keep Jim off any cases where his judgment could be compromised… again.

Blair was nodding. "The more attractive someone finds you, the more their pheromones affect you. And normally, your guide would shield you from that, but…" Blair let his words trail off with a vague wave of his hand.

"Because we haven't had sex, I'm vulnerable," Jim said as the turned that thought over in his head. The practical solution seemed pretty obvious to him.

"It's not like we have sex and 'bam!' you aren't vulnerable." Blair rolled his eyes, and Jim's incipient lust vanished.

"When a Sentinel and guide have sex over a long period of time, the pheromone receptors gradually adapt to accept only the pheromones from the guide. A Sentinel who hasn't chosen a companion, an undedicated Sentinel, can work with anyone who finds him or her attractive, but it's like the most interested partner gets the Sentinel's attention."

"Wait, Lila liked me more than you did? Chief, considering how that came out, I'm offended." Jim backed up to the far wall and leaned against it as he tried to sort out his feelings. He needed Blair's pheromones, but Blair obviously wasn't all that attracted to him, but Blair was attracted, and a murderess bitch actually wanted him more than Blair. This wasn't a good place to start a relationship.

"I think I'm entitled. You're interested, but not as much as Lila or Veronica were."

"Think about it. When Veronica showed up, I was broke, I was borrowing money from you and stressed, and still getting over Alex's death and man, I felt so guilty about that. She was on campus to see me, and some wacko just shoots her, and I'm still not sure I'm buying the Section line about her being some master criminal. I was too screwed up to have the hots for you, so of course I wasn't doing my job. And I've been thinking about every case where your instincts got all turned around. Laura was right after I lost Maya. Lila was a week after Roy Williams died. I so totally was not doing my job."

"My job. As the guide, I’m supposed to be your shield so you can't get hijacked, only because you aren't physically attracted to me, it's all messed up. I mean, we can totally keep working together, but as an undedicated Sentinel, you'll always have that vulnerability, although if I stop dating, I think I could probably…"

"Stop!" Jim said, one hand out as his head spun from the overload of information. "Blair, are you attracted to me?" Jim asked as he held up one finger. Blair opened his mouth, and Jim cautioned him, "One word—yes or no because I am out of patience for obfuscations here, Chief."

Jim held up a second finger. "I'm attracted to you. I don't know where you get this shit about a man only wanting a certain physical type, but I'm far more interested in what a person does than what he looks like."

"Three!" Jim interrupted as he held up a third finger. "I trust you, and I try not to start a sexual relationship without trust no matter how attractive I find the man or woman." He held up a fourth finger. "Do you trust me?"

"That was a yes. Blair, we trust each other, we like each other, we're sexually attracted to each other, we live together. I have to ask why we haven't been having sex."

"Yep," Jim agreed as he flung an arm around Blair's shoulder and pointed his guide back toward the break room. "Now we have a team that needs some team building, so we're going to talk and share stories and find out if this labyrinth has a pool table in it. Right after I have lunch."

"Just like that?" Blair asked, and Jim assumed he meant the having sex part and not the team playing pool together.

Jim stopped, his hand still resting on Blair's shoulder. "Do you want to give this a try?"

Blair chewed on his lip and frowned for a second. "I want this more than anything, but if you don't want me, if you're just doing this because you'd rather have my hormones screwing you up than be vulnerable…" Blair took a deep breath, "just please don't do that to me, man."

"I'm not, Blair," Jim promised, and he used his thumb to trace the edge of Blair's jaw. "I am attracted to you. I never thought you were interested because dated so many women. If I thought I'd stood a chance with you, I would have made a fool out of myself a long time ago."

"I do," Jim agreed with a smile. "I'm hoping it goes both ways." Before Blair could answer, Jim had swiped the security card through the reader, and the door to the lounge slid open. Jim's lasagna and fries sat waiting, and Makepeace was eating with single-minded dedication as Jurgen and Tobias chatted about some study on stress and performance.

"Oh man, I read that piece," Blair said as he sat at the table, reached over, and stole some of Jim's fries. Jim smiled as he sat at the table. There just might be hope for them.

"Oh man, just keep everything dialed down," Blair barely breathed as they walked the neat square with the planters at regular intervals. For a city that had been in a war zone not so long ago, Maribor was clean and neat and very European, which shouldn't be surprising since they were in Europe.

"I'm fine Sandburg," Jim complained. Tobias and Jurgen stood at a little red building making moon eyes at each other and buying touristy t-shirts while Makepeace sat with a frown and book on the bench that went around the monument dominating the center of the square. He could easily pass for a local, and with the unhappy expression, a local that no one was going to approach unless they had a death wish. Blair sighed. He could play nice all he wanted, Makepeace was still going to hate him.

"If by fine, you mean you're all tense and your instincts are making you into a grouchy asshole, I'm right there with you, man," Blair agreed. Jim turned and graced Blair with a glare, but Blair just stared right back at him. "Speaking the truth here, and you so know it."

"There's something here."

"Yep, which is why we're here," Blair pointed out. "But if your Sentinel instincts go all wonky, we really need to rethink the plan."

"I'm not wonky." Jim growled that bit.

"Riiight. Maybe we should go back to the hotel and…" Blair waved a hand vaguely. Jim's glare grew more intense. "It might help," Blair added defensively.

"I'm not having sex with you to make… things go smoother."

"So, we can have sex and you say that you want to have sex, but we can't have sex until we prove some point by putting your instincts in the line of fire and watching you go wonky?" Blair's words were little more than a whisper that he muttered close to Jim's arm as he pretended to take a picture of the houses all connected in a row, their ornate windows all perfectly aligned and freshly washed. Cascade never looked this clean, but maybe that was because of all the rain.

Jim didn't answer, but the withering expression Jim focused on him was enough to make a lesser man run for cover. Not even Makepeace looked at Blair with quite that much venom. "I am not wonky." Each word was said slowly and carefully as though Jim was afraid of what might slip out if he didn't control his mouth.

"Uh huh. God, some days I wonder if your testosterone levels aren't in the poisonous range," Blair snorted before he started heading toward the end of the square that led to the university buildings. So far, they only had Jim's instincts and a vague report that the aliens might be accessing computer networks through the University of Maribor.

Immediately, Jim reached out and grabbed Blair's shoulder, yanking him back so fast that Blair gave a yelp that made several people turn and look. "Nearly dropped it. Cost $400," Blair babbled as he held up the camera for people to see. Jim's frown deepened. Oh yeah, whether Jim admitted it or not, these goa'uld were doing a number on his senses. Blair couldn't remember the last time Jim was this irrational. "Chill," Blair snapped, and Jim dropped his hand away from Blair's shoulder even if his fingers kept twitching.

Blair didn't even glance over as Tobias and Jurgen moved into position, holding hands and casually wandering in the same general direction as Jim and Blair. Looking up, Blair waited for Jim to make a decision about whether to continue or to head back to the hotel where Bruhn and Knudsen were waiting. With a heavy hand, Jim scrubbed his face for a second, looking exhausted as he cracked his neck.

"Come on, Chief, let's go check out this great conference you're so hot on attending," Jim finally sighed as they headed toward the university. The conference wasn't exactly Blair's normal cup of tea since it focused on work process management, but he had a whole story prepped if anyone asked. His own work in victimization focused on the inability of victims to interact with the mainstream, and teaching victims to work with business or teaching business to create a culture that would take advantage of the potential employee pool available in the victims of abuse and crime… it was a study that Blair was increasingly determined to actually follow up on as soon as Section was through with them.

Blair let Jim take his arm, fully aware of the fact that anyone who saw them would assume they were a couple. And if Blair could just get them a little privacy from the rest of the team, they might actually be a couple, which was more than a little weird. Four years of frustration, and Blair had learned to live with it. He'd taken the objective data—Jim's affair with his commanding officer in the Rangers, his attraction to Carolyn and Lily and a half dozen other women—he'd taken that and determined that Jim was sexually attracted to the strong, aggressive, and occasionally murderous type. Actually, of all Jim's lovers, Caro was the only one who Blair was reasonably sure hadn't ever killed anyone. And even then, he couldn't be sure because that woman had a temper that could strip the paint off a barn.

And now Jim claimed to be attracted to Blair, but refused to do anything until this mission was over. Blair wasn't sure if he was frustrated or afraid. What he wanted was so close. Jim was holding out a relationship like a carrot on a string, and Blair was fairly sure he'd do anything to get that carrot. But the nagging thought that Jim was once again acting out of his own fear-based responses haunted Blair. What if Jim was only choosing to have sex with him to avoid having to work with other guides if he was called to service again? What if Jim wanted control over the senses and didn't actually want Blair?

Blair glanced over at Jim's deep frown and shoved his own thoughts aside as he focused on his Sentinel. "Oh man, not here," he whispered just as Jim's face started to get that slack expression. Shit. Jim hadn't zoned in forever. The road had narrowed, and the small cars Europeans favored clacked over the speed bump right in front of the bench where Jim unexpectedly sat.

"Something's close," Jim whispered as he put his head down in his hands. Blair rubbed his back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. When Jim reached out and grabbed his knee, holding it desperately, Blair couldn't avoid feeling a flare of need. Even if Jim just needed to have sex in order to control his own life, Blair knew he was way in over his head emotionally. He wanted Jim.

"Just stick close," Jim said as he stood and took a deep breath. When Blair stood next to him, Jim slung and arm around his shoulder and pulled Blair to his side. A passing couple frowned at them, and Blair offered up his most dazzling smile as he slipped his own arm around Jim's waist. Then Jim was moving again, staying near the brick buildings that radiated the heat from the sun back into the street. Jim stopped and studied a store window with brightly colored advertising, but Blair could read the tilt of his head.

Blair pressed three fingers against his thigh in a modified covert signal, and immediately shifted to take a picture of Jim in front of the metal grillwork of a decorative fence. Jim smiled, playing his part, but Blair could see the lines at the corners of his eyes deepen and Jim clung to the metal scrolling on the gate as though he would fall without the support. Jim flicked his ring finger, making the gesture for 'seven' so quickly that Blair almost missed it, but he smiled and turned as though trying to get out of the light and review the picture he had just taken. At seven o'clock two men walked, eyes straight forward as though seeing nothing except what was right in front of them.

"Oh man. Fuck. I forgot my credentials back at the hotel. They won't let me in the conference without that badge," Blair complained.

"Damn it, Chief. Do I have to pin your shit to your shirt for you to keep track of it?" Jim demanded in a voice just a little louder than it absolutely needed to be.

"Fuck you," Blair offered with an appropriate hand gesture before he turned and headed back toward Hotel Orel.

"Temper, temper," Jim said, his voice teasing even if Blair could hear the strain in it. Jim's hand landed on his shoulder, and Blair stopped for a half-step so that he would again be pressed to Jim's side. The two men Jim had identified walked on without sparing a glance in either direction.

Blair's first observation was that they either weren't very observant or they were damn arrogant because they didn't try to watch their environment at all. Even if Blair hadn't bothered to check on Jurgen's location, he could bet that the profiler was coming to the same conclusion. One man was tall, light brown hair and a handsome face made him stand out from the crowd. The other man was not as tall, but his black hair and well developed body certainly caught the look of more than one girl as they walked toward the town square.

Jim and Blair followed them to Svetozarevska, but when Jim and Blair turned north toward Castle Square and their hotel, the two aliens continued on the main road, walking resolutely side by side until they were out of sight. Silently, Jim walked them back to their hotel. He bypassed the room they had rented with its cute little balcony and cheerful red flowers and instead went through a barrier of plastic sheeting into a sector that local officials had determined unsafe due to a spill of pesticides being used to fumigate the hotel. For the next three weeks, not even hotel officials were allowed past the official government warning signs.

"Confirmed contact?" Knudsen asked as he sat at a laptop hooked to any number of devices Blair didn't recognize. Jim nodded and nearly collapsed into a chair. They sat in a silence broken only by Knudsen typing on his computer for nearly fifteen minutes before Tobias and Jurgen joined them.

"Robert's in position," Jurgen immediately offered. Makepeace would stay in position outside while the rest of them debriefed. "Were they goa'uld?"

Tobias didn't say anything, but she moved to the bed and Knudsen immediately surrendered his spot as she started checking the computer's security.

"They were either goa'uld or something else that I instinctively wanted to hunt down and rip apart with my bare hands," Jim nodded slowly. They aren't… they aren't natural. It's like I could hear their bodies not in tune with themselves." Jim spoke slowly struggling with the words, and Blair pulled the closest chair over to his side and sat, his hands on Jim's knee.

"What did you hear?"

Jim was shaking his head. "I don't know."

"Come on; let's work through one sense at a time."

"Not now, Sandburg," Jim snapped out and Blair sat back in surprise. "You and Jurgen have to report. This is about your observations right now, so do your job." Jim stood up and moved to the window. It had been heavily covered with black plastic, but Blair suspected that Jim could still see out. Jurgen curiously watched first Jim and then Blair, and Blair felt himself blush under the observation.

"What are your observations and conclusions?" Jim asked as he stared at the covered window. Blair glanced toward Jurgen who tilted his head in a way that invited Blair to go first.

"Both have hosts that attract attention by being physically attractive. I would suspect--given the other two goa'ulds I've seen--that it may be a cultural trait; however, they're basing attractiveness on a human standard, which is weird considering that in their natural state they're snakes."

"A desire to be seen as attractive, perhaps biologically determined," Jurgen nodded.

"But a need to be attractive to the potential hosts? Man, that doesn't make sense. Attraction is about reproduction and survival. If you can just take a host, why do you need to be in a host that another potential host sees as attractive?"

"Power?" Jurgen mused.

"Maybe," Blair agreed, most of his attention still on Jim. "Definitely not something I'd make a conclusion about at this point."

"Agreed." Jurgen sat on the edge of the bed, his hip pressed to Tobias' leg, and she spared him a smile before going back to typing. Blair had always seen military units and sexuality as mutually exclusive, but if he and Jim weren't doing it, Blair was pretty sure they were the only ones who weren't.

Tobias and Jurgen were sending out major signals, and while Miko Bruhn and Hannu Knudsen were more subtle, Blair was a good sixty percent sure they were sleeping together. It would explain why Bruhn had given up his career and his life to try and protect Knudsen against the bogus rape charges. Of course Makepeace wasn't sharing time with anyone except his own hand, but then again, that might just be the man's personality. So far, Blair had the impression that he was a man who didn't let his guard down long enough to let anyone inside. Even Tobias, who had been in the same organization before coming to Section, got little more than disinterested looks from him. That was still better than the hate Blair got, but it wasn't exactly a warm and friendly team-feeling he had for anyone.

Blair must have been silent for too long because Jim turned around to glare, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked from Jurgen to Blair.

"They're hierarchical," Blair said.

"We knew that already," Tobias pointed out even as she typed Blair's comments into the computer for Section.

"No, we knew they had System Lords who acted as dictators over large groups of goa'uld, jaffa, and humans," Jurgen said as he nodded in agreement with Blair.

"But these are two minor goa'uld, and they're hierarchical with each other, refusing to allow one another to get even one step ahead. And the fact that they are so carefully trying to maintain an equal standing when equality is clearly not their norm…" Blair grimaced as he tried to figure that one out.

"Someone or something is forcing them into unnatural patterns of behavior," Jurgen nodded. "Clare got a number of clear shots from the hidden camera, so we should have an identity on the hosts and information on their locations soon enough, and then we should be able to make more observations."

"Anything else?" Jim asked when the room went silent for several minutes.

"Oh man, off watching two people walk down a street? I'm impressed that we came up with that much." Blair crossed his own arms in imitation of Jim and dared the man to press the issue. If Jim wanted to act like an asshole, Blair could out-asshole him any day of the week.

"We should head back to the university." Jim nodded to himself without bothering to ask for anyone's input. "Knudsen, you take rear. The rest of you are off until Dr. Sandburg goes to a few sessions and establishes our cover."

"I'll go get my papers," Blair said as he got up.

"You mean you really did leave them behind?" Jim demanded. Blair offered his Sentinel a sweet smile that did little to hide his frustration before heading out of the room. Outside, he nearly walked into Makepeace.

"Always watch that your retreat is clear or you're going to get someone killed, Sandburg," Makepeace growled.

"I was trusting you to do the watching thing, actually," Blair offered as he gave the man a smile and slid past him as he headed for the room he and Jim were sharing. Yeah, Makepeace had been given the signal that he could come in the second Jim had issued the order, but Blair just had the creepy feeling that the man had stood in the hall and waited for a chance to harass Blair. He was a grade-A asshole. Blair so would have nagged Jim about sending him back except that Nikita wanted him on the mission and Jim said he trusted Makepeace's instincts in battle if not his attitude. Personally, Blair didn't trust him far enough to let the man borrow his favorite pencil.

Jim caught up to him in their room. "You get your papers, Chief?" he asked, all the surliness of just minutes ago gone as he stood leaning against the door with a relaxed smile.

Blair shoved his conference registration in his pocket and turned on Jim. "Yeah," he said, his voice dark. Jim frowned at him for a second.

"Chief, you okay?"

"Other than trying to figure out who pissed on your cornflakes this morning, I'm great," Blair said as he shoved past Jim and headed for the stairs.

"Chief!" Jim called out, but Blair was out the door and hurrying across the cobbled brick of Castle Square. "Sandburg!" Jim caught Blair's arm just as he reached the yellow-tented booths selling local food. "Blair, hold on." Jim yanked Blair to a halt, and Blair glared at him. "Talk to me, Chief."

"Why? You're so busy snapping at me that I didn't think we were talking anymore."

Jim stepped back looking confused, and Blair immediately felt the guilt seep in through the cracks like floodwater into his soul. It made him feel dirty. "Jim," he said softly.

"No, I know. I'm trying," Jim said as he started walking toward the university. Blair closed his eyes and fought with his own overgrown emotions before he hurried to fall into step next to Jim.

"I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated," Blair apologized.

"Frustrated as in…"

"Frustrated as in you don't seem to be talking to me like an equal partner anymore," Blair quickly clarified. Yeah, he was frustrated in other ways too, but Jim needed time to work through those thoughts, and Blair wasn't pushing, not when he wasn't sure whether Jim wanted him or a method of controlling his senses and his addiction to hormones. And it was really fucking with Blair's self-image to realize that if he was nothing more than a way for Jim to gain that control, he would still go ahead with the relationship.

"This is just a difficult spot for me to be in. They need to see me as a commander," Jim said, his voice a whisper that didn't carry past them, but Blair understood that Jim was still breaking protocol every time he talked about the mission in the open like this. Blair reached out and let his hand rest on Jim's back, and Jim's arm immediately reciprocated.

"I just need to know that you respect my opinions."

"Everyone respects your opinions, Dr. Sandburg. If you told the commissioner that they needed to paint the whole precinct pink to better communicate with victims of crime, he'd have the painters there in a week."

"Oh man, now that would be an interesting experiment in control," Blair said as he thought about Simon's face as the painters came in with their pink paint.

"Don't think about it, Darwin. I will rat you out to Simon and the commissioner."

"Jim, I don't actually care what they think about me." Blair cringed a little as he recognized his own lie. "Okay, I care. I especially care about Simon's opinion. However, their opinions don't matter like yours do, so when you shut me down without even listening like back in the room, I just start worrying about our relationship."

"Our relationship," Jim echoed.

"Our relationship, our friendship, four years of partnering, our relationship," Blair said, pointedly leaving out the parts of the relationship they weren't as sure about yet. They walked under the blue sky, and Blair let himself focus on some pink and orange graffiti sprayed on a tan brick building as Jim's arm guided him around a corner. On the smaller streets, pedestrians and cars shared the road, and Jim switched sides to keep himself between Blair and the slowly moving traffic. The flowerbeds on the university grounds came into view before Jim took a deep breath.

"So, what are you going to do while I sit in and listen to a lecture on organization effectiveness with entry-level employees and establishing corporate culture?" Blair asked casually.

Jim had already discussed with the conference organizers that Blair had received some death threats and Jim needed to stay fairly close, but right now Blair needed distance. He needed distance to try and tease out which of these negative vibes were coming from Jim the man, which were coming from the Sentinel, and which were coming from Blair's own insecurities about this change in their relationship which hadn't actually changed yet. They were sharing a bed, and Blair might as well be sharing a bunk with one of the monks from St. Sebastian's. So, he officially invited Jim to do something else while he was doing the academic thing.

"Blair."

"Consider it a test. You get to track me in the middle of two hundred people all as boring as I am. Besides, there are only a few sessions in English, so I won't be in there for all that long, but I really do want to talk to Dr. Gorshe and hear his lecture. And trust me, you would be bored stupid."

"And I won't be stuck sitting out here?" Jim demanded.

Blair smiled and looked around at the university square. "Sunlight, flowers, a fountain, and all the pretty college girls you can look at. You'll be fine," Blair said as he patted Jim on the arm and headed for the building.

"Chief, be careful," Jim offered his final words of advice as he settled on one of the benches surrounding the sunken fountain.

"No problem," Blair offered brightly as he walked backwards for a few steps so he could wave to his worrywart Sentinel. For a couple of hours, he was going to let his academic curiosity take over while he let his subconscious worry about the increasing tensions between him and Jim. He might have said they were unresolved sexual conflicts, but Blair was perfectly willing to solve any sexual conflicts, and Jim claimed he was too, even if he wanted to wait.

Blair forced his mind away from that topic as he showed the girl in the conference area his paperwork and claimed his badge. His had a little American flag in the corner, and Blair could see that a number of other conference-goers had the same little symbol. It shouldn't have surprised him given that the University of Maribor partnered internationally with a number of universities.

The lecture he wanted was in the main hall, and he wandered in, nodding vaguely at people whose names didn't even sound vaguely familiar. At most conferences, he recognized someone whose published work he'd read or people recognized his name. Here he just wandered the room, picking up a stale donut from the back as he tried to figure out where to sit. The chairs on the edges of the sections had already been claimed with notebooks and briefcases claiming the territory as the various academics wandered the room. Blair spotted a potential friendly face perched on a chair on the far right aisle, and headed that way. He smiled as he slipped past the man whose glasses were sliding down his nose in order to get to one of the free chairs.

"Hey," Blair said as he dropped into a seat near the other man. At least this one didn't look ancient or grumpy, and most of the room was filled with ancient and/or grumpy. Up close, he could see the small lines that suggested that the man wasn't as young as he looked at first, but at least he was close enough in age to Blair for them to talk… hopefully.

"Hi," the other man offered as he shuffled his papers and frowned. A paper slithered to the floor and Blair bent over to retrieve it before offering it to his neighbor. "Thanks."

"No problem. Oh man, I'm terrible with paper which is why I'm trying to switch over to the electronic age. Less shit to drop," Blair confided as he pulled out a handheld recorder.

"I always found those things recorded more of the audience coughing than the speaker." The other man shoved his glasses back up and sat back in his chair. "They're great in the field though."

"I do pretty good with this model," Blair shrugged. "Blair Sandburg from Washington State."

"Daniel Jackson from Colorado," the other man offered.

"No offense, man, but you look a little out of place," Blair looked around the room. Daniel laughed.

"I hate to point it out, but so do you."

"Yeah, I kinda do. I work with victims of crime, specializing in the cultural aspects that reinforce victimization. I'm looking at how corporate culture can overcome those traits."

"Anthropology?" Daniel asked, both eyebrows going up.

"Yeah. Since I was sixteen and someone introduced me to Sir Richard Burton's work. Although when I was sixteen, I was way more interested in his translation of the Kama Sutra than his anthropological observations, you know?"

"On the Means of Attracting Others to One's Self," Daniel quoted.

"Oh man, yeah. At sixteen that pretty much defined my life's goal. So, what's your specialty?"

"Archeology."

"Whoa, you really are way out of your field," Blair said with a strange look at the man. Daniel shook his head.

"I specialize in Egypt. I'm looking at the trade and business models of Egyptian society, and I thought this would be a good way to pick up some of the academic background on modern business models so I could apply them."

"Man, no offense, but wasn't the Egyptian business model pretty much slavery?"

Daniel blinked. "Seasonal conscripts, maybe. But have you considered the impracticality of having an entire culture based on slavery? Even the American south was unable to sustain itself without constant shipments of new slaves. My thesis is that the later kingdoms had much more in common with current business practices."

Blair let himself focus on the conversation until the lecture started. Daniel took notes while Blair kept his recorder aimed to the front and all seemed to go well until Blair glanced over at the clock to check the time. Against the wall under the clock leaned a man with graying hair and dark eyes. Shit, shit, and double shit. That was Colonel Jack O'Neill, and just why was it that Blair was always the one who seemed to end up in the middle of all the falling shit?