Successfully retrieving the handcuff key from Jim's pocket had seemed incredibly clever for about ten seconds. After the brief euphoria had worn off, however, Blair realized that there was no way to use it without tipping Rice off immediately.

He could probably expect a lecture from Jim about it once this was over.

Best thing to do now was try to distract Rice and follow Jim's lead. His Yaxchilan lecture had held the man's attention for a few minutes, but now his eyes were glazed over and it was obvious he wasn't paying any attention to Blair at all. Reminded him of some of his freshman students.

The van stopped and Blair's stomach did a flip-flop. Jim and the cops outside would want to wrap this up soon, before it became a full-blown hostage situation.

Like it isn't already, man.

Blair had to admit he was having some performance anxiety. He was sure Jim would get them out of this, but it was his own part in it that worried him. If he screwed this up, it would be in front of pretty much the entire Cascade PD. Living through it was the important part, though, Blair reminded himself. The hell with what he looked like; he'd do his best.

Fred motioned with his gun, "Get up. You're going to walk me to my house, and then I'll let you go."

"Mr. Rice," Simon yelled from outside the van, "I'm opening the doors now."

Beside Blair, Jim tensed and Blair knew that it was going to happen as soon as the doors opened. His heart felt like it was going to leap right out of his chest.

You are not going to have a heart attack.

Simon swung the door open. Rice, still pointing his gun at Jim, turned his head to look at the captain. It was all the opening Jim needed. He grabbed for the gun, and Blair, by necessity, grabbed with him. He balled his left hand into a fist and brought it hard against Rice's chin.

Blair heard an explosion near his ear and shouting.

Jim hooked a knee under Rice's leg and knocked him off balance. They all went down in a heap to the floor of the van. Blair wasn't really thinking any more. Jim was tenaciously holding on to Rice's wrist with both hands, but there was no space to maneuver. All Blair could do was try to hit Rice until he dropped the gun, but he was unable to get any real force behind his blows.

The guy was not going to shoot Jim. Blair would beat the guy to a bloody pulp if he had to, but he would not let this asshole shoot Jim.

Blair got one leg partially beneath him and pushed up as he swung, finally landing a hard blow to Rice's jaw.

Rice didn't even blink. Instead, he managed to get the barrel of the gun pointed squarely in the middle of Jim's forehead.

Shit. There was no way he was going to let Jim get killed. Just absolutely no way.

Blair pulled back his arm and prepared to strike again.

Rice unexpectedly relaxed his hands and dropped the gun away from Jim's head. The sudden lack of resistance caught Jim by surprise.

"You won't take me alive!" Rice screamed, loudly enough to make Blair's ears buzz.

Jim realized, too late, what Rice intended to do. Blair saw what was coming and lunged forward, trying to knock Rice's hand away. It wasn't enough. Rice moved the gun under his own chin and pulled the trigger.

Blood spattered the inside of the van and Blair shut his eyes tightly against the horror of it.

"Oh, shit!" Blair tried to back out of the van but was stopped short by a sharp pain in his wrist. He opened his eyes just long enough to look at his partner. Jim was staring at Rice with his jaw hanging open. Blair yanked on Jim's arm with both hands in a foolish attempt to get them both out of the van. If he couldn't put a dent in an overweight drunk, how the hell did he think he was going to move Ironman?

"Jim!"

It was probably the panic in Blair's voice that got through to him. Jim turned and looked at Blair, blinking owlishly. "Sandburg, you OK?"

"I will be once we're not here any more."

Other hands were helping them, now, pulling them out of the van and into blinding daylight. Blair was vaguely aware of the captain passing them.

"He's still alive, someone call a medic!" Simon bellowed from inside the van.

"Alive?" Things didn't seem to be conforming to reality at the moment, so Blair sat down hard on the asphalt, again forgetting the cuff on his wrist. "Owowow!"

Jim sat down next him and leaned his head back against the fender of the squad car behind them, trying to catch his breath. Blair heard someone yelling for handcuff keys.

"You OK, Jim?"

Jim just nodded and didn't open his eyes. "How you doing?"

"Hey, man, you don't have to find keys," Blair said, producing Jim's key from his pocket. He reached over to unlock the cuffs.

It was funny really. Blair was sure he'd laugh about it later. His hands were shaking too badly to get the key in the hole.

The sun was blocked by a large shadow, and Blair looked up to see Simon looming over them. Without a word, he reached down, took the key from Blair and unlocked the cuffs.

Blair shook his wrist gently, trying to ease the pain a little. The action had exactly the opposite effect. "Thanks, man."

"How you two doing?"

"He's alive?" Blair asked again.

"Barely. He'll probably buy the farm or spend the rest of his life growing on one."

It shouldn't have been funny. Not after what just happened. And it wasn't, not really. Blair started to laugh. "Geez, Simon. When I grow up I want to be just like you."

"Stop being a smart ass, Sandburg," Simon growled.

Blair wiped tears from his eyes and sobered up as another thought struck him. "Hey, Simon, how's Officer Watson?"

Jim tensed beside him.

"Megan and Rafe managed to resuscitate him. He regained consciousness and he's on the way to the hospital."

Jim relaxed and Blair let out a sigh of relief. "I am so glad, man."

Jim finally opened his eyes. "And Tony?"

"Broken arm."

The medics had placed a collar around Rice's neck and were now carrying him out on a backboard. Blood soaked bandages were wrapped around his head and he wasn't moving. Blair shuddered.

"What happened to him, man?"

"What do you mean, Sandburg? He shot himself." Jim was speaking a little too gently, as though he thought Blair might be in shock.

"No, I know that. I mean, what happened to him? He's been on the planet for what, more than 40 years, had a steady job... According to his police report he didn't have much of a record, then one day--boom--he snaps and starts trying to kill people. You can't tell me his neighbors caused that, no matter how irritating they are."

"You're the one with the psych minor, Chief."

Yeah. Yeah he was. And it still didn't help.

Simon held a hand out to Blair to help him up, "Trying to figure it out will just make you crazy, Sandburg. No pun intended."

Once upright, Blair was surprised to learn that his muscles had turned to Jell-o.

He would have landed on his butt under the watchful eyes of about a half dozen of Cascade's finest, but Jim grabbed his arm and steadied him. "Easy, Blair."

"Whoa! I think I'm losing adrenaline here." Blair tried to laugh, but it came out sounding hollow. "I think I'm gonna need a transfusion."

Simon grabbed his other arm and maneuvered him through the chaos. "C'mon. You and Jim can sit in my car for a few minutes until you get your sea legs back."

"Thanks, man."

"No problem, Sandburg. Just don't mess up the upholstery."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Jim had always been able to recover quickly from stressful situations and gory crime scenes.

Sandburg, however, had not, and probably never would. That's why Jim steered his partner right past Simon's car and over to a relatively secluded spot beside Rice's house.

"Where are we going?" Sandburg asked.

"Somewhere you won't mess up Simon's upholstery."

Sandburg looked more than a little confused by the statement.

And then he didn't.

The yard was already a mess. Sandburg didn't add much to it.

Jim saw a green garden hose coiled up in the driveway. He attached it to the spigot and turned the water on, letting it run for a few moments before dragging the hose over to Sandburg, who removed his head from the shrubbery and leaned heavily against the house.

"Thanks, man."

Jim held the hose for Blair as he cupped his hands and sucked down about a quart of water, then splashed his face. Sandburg straightened under his own steam and dried his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Better?" Jim asked.

"Getting there." Sandburg's voice was a little less shaky.

Jim replaced the hose and slung an arm around Blair's shoulder, steering him in the direction of Simon's car. "I think it's safe to sit in it now."

Sentinel senses weren't necessary to detect the muscles in Sandburg's back relaxing, or to hear the touch of humor creep into Blair's voice.

"Yeah, if you don't drive."

The End