Evening, Starlight Motel, Room 112

"Did you remember to bring the modem connecty thingy for your cell phone?" Ellison looked across the room at his younger partner who was sitting on one of the room's beds fiddling with his laptop, a night stand in front of him functioning as a makeshift desk.

"Yes, dad." Sandburg held up the device in question. "I remembered the charger and the extra battery too. And even if I didn't, I'm sure you packed an extra one somewhere."

"Now why would I do that? Just because you've forgotten yours the last few times."

"I did not forget. I just got a little distracted and didn't remember."

"And there's a difference?" Ellison ducked, as Blair hurled one of the pillows on the bed in his direction.

"Why don't you stop pacing and sit down." Blair looked up from his laptop. "There isn't much left of this carpet anyway, and with the way you're going, you're going to wear an actual hole in it. There isn't anything else we can do tonight."

"I know." Jim stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the other bed. "I just can't seem to sit still. There is just something about this place. Bad vibes or something. I don't know. I'm not even sure I can explain it."

"Uh oh. I don't like the sound of that. Is this a move-all-the-furniture kinda feeling, or a ghosts-in-the-neighborhood kinda feeling."

"Not really either one. It's more like a hum in the air that no one but me can hear. Sort of a subliminal vibration. I don't know." Jim began to pace across the room again.

"Maybe we should try a relaxation exercise. See if that helps."

"I've tried deep breathing. I've tried meditation. Nothing seems to be working."

"Um, Jim, meditation usually involves quiet and a lack of motion. How can you meditate when you're pacing like that? The sound of your feet on the floor alone would distract me."

"It's just one of those skills you kind of develop." Jim looked slightly sheepish at the admission.

"Uh uh. Not buying it. Now sit. Let's see if we can focus your energies enough to figure out what's bugging you."

"What's wrong with my way?" Ellison grumbled.

"You mean besides the fact that it isn't working? Now sit down."

Realizing the futility of arguing with his Guide, Ellison complied with the order and sat on the bed currently unoccupied by papers, his back resting against the headboard.

"Now, close your eyes."

When that too was accomplished, Blair moved to the edge of his own bed, allowing him to rest a hand on his Sentinel's knee to ground him. "Take a couple deep breaths. Just relax. Good. Let's see if we can figure out what's bugging you. Let's start with smell. Filter out everything familiar: my scent, the cleaning smells in the room. Now start filtering out scents you recognize."

Blair watched his Sentinel rapidly identify and discard the various smells throughout the room. Finally realizing that Ellison wasn't going to verbally explain what he identified and not knowing what might be important later, he prompted the older man, "Tell me what you're smelling."

"Normal air scents. Dust. Pollen. There are some nice wildflowers growing upwind near the reactor. Water."

Blair's eyes widened in amazement at the descriptions flowing from Jim's mouth, and he began to bounce slightly on the bed. Wildflowers near the reactor? Upwind? He was getting pretty specific. "You can identify pollen in the air? That is so cool. You could be a walking allergy index." Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Jim began to sneeze.

"Sage." He managed to get out between sneezes.

"Filter out the scent. You can get past it."

At Blair's coaching, the sneezing subsided.

"Now, what's left?"

"Something metallic. It's very faint. The sage covered it up. I can't identify it, but now that I have the sage filtered out I can pick it up. It's something I know I've smelled before. I just don't know where." Ellison's eyes flew open in frustration.

"Uh uh, we're not done yet. Close your eyes."

"Sandburg, I just said I don't know what it is."

"Fine. So catalogue it. Maybe tomorrow we'll try to track it. Now, we have four other senses to work with. Maybe one of them will help us figure out what's bugging you."

Once again, Ellison complied with his Guide's order.

"Thank you. Now, I'm guessing that you've already searched the room pretty thoroughly, so we won't worry about sight. That leaves touch, hearing, and taste. I think we can pretty much rule out taste. I don't think that you can taste anything in the air that you didn't smell. Let's try touch. What do you feel?"

"This is silly. What am I going to be able to feel?" Jim grumbled his dislike of the continued exercise.

"We won't know the answer to that one until we try, will we?" Blair shot back, without missing a beat. "Let's try this again, what do you feel?"

Muttering something under his breath about bossy guides and weird ideas about touch, Ellison began to focus his sense of touch on his surroundings. "I feel a tingling on my skin. Almost a burning, but not quite. More like all the hairs on my arms are standing on end." The surprise at the success of the exercise reverberated in his voice.

"Have you ever felt something like this before?"

"Not that I remember. It almost feels like something's out there."

"What, you mean like the X-Files? Is the spooky music next?" Sandburg couldn't suppress the comment, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"Laugh if you will. Just remember this was your idea."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. You just sounded exactly like Mulder there."

"I hope you don't think that makes you Scully, Chief."

"Nah, I've got better legs than she does."

"Yeah, but she's a redhead. No contest there."

"Turn up the dial. Now, tell me what else you feel." Blair returned the conversation to its original topic, not wanting his friend to get too off track. After all, he knew what redheads did to the man.

"The burning's getting stronger. Painful. It feels like my skin's on fire." The agony he found himself in contorted Ellison's features.

"Dial it down!" Blair almost shouted, as he registered the distress on his Sentinel's face and his reddening hands and forearms visible beneath the rolled cuffs of his flannel shirt. Something was definitely wrong here. What was going on out here? What could cause the air to burn? The need to help his friend halted the questions spinning around his head. Pitching his voice to the level he considered "guide" he attempted to get both himself and Jim under control. "Come on, man. You know how to do this. Grab hold of the dial. Now, slowly start moving it towards zero."

Under Blair's guidance Jim's face slowly began to lose its mask of agony.

Running to the bathroom Blair grabbed a towel off the rack at the same time he turned on the faucet. Sticking a finger under the steady stream of water, he sent a quick thank you towards the heavens for slow hotel water heaters. Sticking the towel in the basin, he thoroughly soaked it in the cool water. Wringing it out, he returned to the bedroom to find Jim sprawled on the bed, his upper arms thrown across his face almost as if he were shielding himself from a blast. Almost as an afterthought, his brain noted and catalogued for future reference that Jim's hands and forearms no longer carried the blisters visible only moments before. En route to the bed he detoured past the light switch on the wall next to the door, realizing the bright fluorescent lights couldn't be helping the situation. Carefully Blair settled himself next to the older man.

Not wanting to touch him and further shock the already traumatized Sentinel, Blair began softly talking as he held the cool, wet wash cloth about six inches above Jim's face. "I want you to move your arms. I turned off all the lights so you don't have to worry about them. I'm holding a towel above your face."

"I can feel it."

"I thought you had everything turned down?" Blair controlled his inclination to shout, his hold on the towel keeping his hands from flying about in exasperation.

"I do. But my nerve endings still feel like they're on fire. Even though I have the dial turned almost off, I can still feel everything that's going on around me."

Though there were no longer any visible signs of trauma, Blair voiced the question he almost didn't want answered. "Is your skin still burning?" This time, Blair couldn't control the tremor of fear in his voice.

"No. That's gone. It's more like my skin is suddenly much more sensitive. The only other time I've felt like this is when my senses first came on line."

Sandburg's eyebrows shot into his hairline. If Ellison had the dial turned down he shouldn't be feeling much of anything, let alone feeling on a higher level. Something was seriously wrong here.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his questions to the back of his mind, until he could retrieve them later, study them at length, and if he was really lucky, figure out the answers to a few of them. The most important thing at the moment was figuring out how to help Jim dial down his senses and make him comfortable. "Do you want me to keep holding the towel, set it down on your skin, or move it completely?"

"Keep holding it."

"Um, Jim." Blair wasn't quite sure how to voice the question forming in his mind. Deciding there was something to be said for being direct, especially in this situation, he voiced his thoughts aloud, "How much of your skin is suddenly ultra-sensitive? Is it just the parts exposed to the air, or is it your whole body? Is it related in anyway to the area where you had your senses turned up?"

Jim was silent as he catalogued the information his senses sent to his brain. "Mostly just the places I had turned up. And that were exposed to air."

"So we're talking face and arms here. Okay. I can work with that." He muttered the last to himself, almost under his breath. "Now how to desensitize your nerve endings."

"Actually, my face seems to be okay, it's mostly hands and arms. Hands are the worst."

"Are you having problems with any of your other senses? Do any of them seem ultra- sensitive?"

"No. Just touch."

At Jim's answer, Blair breathed an inaudible, even to a sentinel, sigh of relief and sent yet another silent prayer towards whatever entity kept watch over sentinels and their guides. At least they weren't dealing with a complete overload.

"Okay, so what we're dealing with here is something in the air. So, how does one get rid of something airborne that's on the skin?" Had he not been holding the towel for Jim, Blair would have paced as he worked through this unexpected test of their abilities. After a few moments of incomprehensible muttering -- though unaware of it, his voice served to ground Jim -- he smacked himself on the forehead, dropping the towel across Ellison's face in the process.

"How dumb can I be?"

"Sandburg." Jim yelped at the same time, before his senses registered the fact that the towel actually seemed to help.

"Um. Sorry Jim." He reached for the towel, only to be stopped by Jim's words.

"Actually, it's okay. It seems to be helping. Now, what are you being dumb about?"

"I just missed the obvious. And the towel proves it."

"And this means what exactly?"

"Well, when someone is having an allergic reaction to something airborne, or someone has been exposed to chemicals or something, the first thing they do is wash off whatever's causing the problem. Remove the offending object. You know, the whole reason for the eyewash and shower in every lab I've ever been in. We sort of skipped that step. Instead of throwing you in the shower ten minutes ago I let you sit here with whatever it is still on your skin."

Jim could hear the note of dejection creeping into his Guide's voice and attempted to stave off any further thoughts of self-recrimination. "It's okay. You aren't the only one who didn't think of it. I've had enough chemical weapons training that I should have known better, too."

He slowly sat up, Blair grabbing the towel before it could fall to the bed. Opening his eyes, he looked at his friend, blue eyes meeting blue. "We can be dumb together, okay?"

"Okay. But first, let's get you into the shower."

"Sounds like a plan. Did you bring that soap I like?" Ellison moved towards the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt en route.

"When did I have to start packing your suitcase for you?" Sandburg retorted, even as he walked towards the duffel bag in the corner and pulled out a bottle of shower soap and a soft sponge then headed towards the bathroom.

"Here." Blair shoved the bottle and sponge into Ellison's hands before deftly catching the shirt before it could hit the ground. At Ellison's raised eyebrow he tried, somewhat unsuccessfully to explain. "We don't know if whatever's on your skin in on your clothes, so we don't want to just throw them all over the place and contaminate the rest of the room."

"Sandburg, if it's on my skin it's probably all over everything..."

"Oh man. I never thought about that. How are you going to sleep?"

"First things first." Ellison gently shut the bathroom door in his friend's face.

"That door better be unlocked. I don't want to have to explain to the hotel manager why I had to break it down if you fall." He muttered clearly to the closed door, knowing that the Sentinel would hear him. He thought about mentioning that Jim had to keep his clothes right side out, but knowing the overly neat tendencies of the other man he dismissed the thought.

"Yes, dear." Ellison called out over the sound of running water.

Leaving the older man to his ministrations, Sandburg carefully folded the shirt in his hand and placed it in a large plastic evidence bag. He wondered to himself at the now-instinctive way he handled evidence, as well as the fact that neither he or his partner ever seemed to travel without a large supply of evidence gathering materials. Sealing and labeling the bag, he placed it in plain sight on the small table in the room so he would remember to send it to Serena in the morning. "Simon's going to love this one."

"What's that?" Jim stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, another in his hand.

Blair turned quickly, not realizing he'd spoken aloud or that the water stopped. "Better?"

"Yes." Jim finished towel drying his short hair before neatly folding the towel and placing it on the sink in the small bathroom.

"Nothing's overly sensitive?"

"Nope. Back to normal." He moved towards his own duffel in the corner and grabbed a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

"So, any ideas on this sleeping thing?"

"As long as I keep the dials at normal or below normal levels I should be fine. I didn't start having a problem until I turned everything up." He pulled the t-shirt on and moved back to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed.

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine. And if not, we'll figure something out together." He stopped, placing a hand on the younger man's shoulder, reassuring him that things would be all right.

"Thanks, man."

"Always, Chief. Always."

Next morning, Dilly's Diner, Richland, Washington

"Ummm, diner food." Jim commented, looking at the menu the frazzled blond waitress placed in his hands after he sat down in the small red booth near the back of the diner.

"Diner food. Which means there probably isn't a darned thing edible on the whole menu," Blair grumbled softly.

"Come on, Chief. Grease is a major food group." Ellison taunted him, having already scanned the menu and finding several healthy options for his partner.

"Shall we schedule the quadruple bi-pass now or wait until after breakfast?"

"Let's wait until after breakfast, that way we know the procedure will do the most good." Jim closed his menu with a slight smile on his face.

Blair grumbled quietly to himself for several more minutes as he finished reading the menu, before closing it with a decisive snap. The snap seemed to trigger an unknown button as the waitress magically appeared next to their table, a coffee pot in hand. A couple minutes later, she departed for the kitchen, one minor cholesterol special and one no cholesterol special on the way, leaving two full coffee cups in her wake.

"You know, you never did answer my question last night. What is Simon going to love? And what are you going to do with that shirt?" Jim indicated the shirt he was wearing last night, now neatly sealed and bound in an evidence bag sitting atop the Formica table, an address label addressed to Serena Chang under the plastic, a second one resting on top of the package.

"I'm mailing it to Serena. I'm hoping she can pick up some particles of whatever it was that bothered you last night. That way at least we'd know what we are dealing with."

"Makes sense. But whatever she comes up with is going to be pretty minute."

"I know. But at least it's a place to start." Blair shuddered at the memory of the previous evening's events.

"Me too." Jim answered the unspoken communication between the two men. "And Simon?" He deliberately changed the subject, not wanting to share the private communication in such a public place.

"Well, he's not going to like the fact that I'm sending things from our "vacation" to be examined in the lab... He really doesn't like having to explain these things you know." Blair grinned at the image of Simon remarking on the latest indiscretion of his favorite team that popped into his head. "One of these days he's going to swallow that cigar of his."

Jim grinned at the image. Before he could offer a comment, the waitress appeared with their breakfast.

"Let me know if you need anything." She threw over her shoulder, as she went to seat two new customers who just walked in the door.

Ellison sighed happily before proceeding to slather his pancakes in butter and syrup and take a large bite of his eggs.

"So, any ideas on how we're going to get into the complex?" Sandburg asked around bites of his Mueslix, still somewhat amazed the small diner even had it on the menu. "And that doesn't even begin the question of how you're going to nose around without anyone becoming suspicious. Remember, this is a Federal facility, even if they are abandoning it."

"Nose around? I'll have you know, I don't just nose around. I have a very systematic investigation style. No nosing around involved." Ellison grinned cheekily at his partner, who merely snorted. "As for the being there part, not a problem. We have official clearance to be there."

"We do?" Blair's confusion reflected itself on his face.

"Yep."

"And do I even want to know how that happened?" A single raised eyebrow indicated his doubts that Jim's methods were on the right side of legal.

"Let's just say there are a few people who still owe me a few favors."

"So they're letting you investigate?" The eyebrow descended, as the legality of his partner's actions became clear. The reasons for the favors were a whole other question, however.

"Not exactly. More like, they're letting me visit some old friends."

"Friends, what friends? Until yesterday you didn't even remember you'd ever been here."

"Jake Groves was my godfather." The words were spoken quietly, reverently; almost as if by speaking them aloud something changed, either in the man speaking them or those close enough to hear.

"What!" The resounding clang of Blair's spoon hitting the side of his bowl, along with his words, brought the attention of the other patrons. He lowered his voice, hoping the suddenly attentive bystanders would lose interest when they couldn't hear what was going on. "And is that godfather with a little g or a big one?"

"Little." Jim breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when the rest of the diner returned their attentions to their respective breakfasts. Now, if he could only get Blair to do the same thing.

"And you didn't think to mention to me or Simon or anyone else for that matter, that the man murdered was your godfather! Hell, Jim, I've been living with you for four years, and I didn't even know you had godparents." Blair's irritation at his stubborn Sentinel manifested itself in the sudden, furious movement of his hands and arms.

"Parent. Singular. And I haven't seen him since I was sixteen. After my mom left, my dad quit bringing us out here. I wrote him a few letters after that, and I came to visit a couple times after I was old enough to drive, but after I went off to college we kind of drifted apart. I got a letter from him after I got back from Peru, but I never made the time to drive out here, until now." Ellison put down his fork, as all thoughts of finishing his breakfast vanished.

"Oh man." Blair's irritation vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"No one did."

"I never thought.... Never mind."

"No, what?" The protracted silence that followed Ellison's words convinced his Guide to voice the thoughts running through his head.

"I never thought you had any family. When I first came to live with you, there weren't any family pictures anywhere and you never talked about anyone. I was lucky to get you to talk about Carolyn the four times you actually mentioned her name in relation to something other than work. I guess I just assumed you were the last of the Ellison clan. Then when Steven showed up, I wasn't sure what to think. Then your dad showed up, and I realized there was something else going on with you and your family. Now I find out you have a godfather that you never mentioned...." He trailed off, not really sure where the conversation was going or even its point.

"You never told me you had an Uncle Obie." Jim answered Blair's unspoken question with one of his own.

"It didn't seem important at the time."

"There's your answer, Chief. They weren't important at the time. When they appeared in my life again, they became important again."

Blair nodded at the admission, again realizing the way Jim Ellison defined those around him. Friend, foe, and inconsequential pretty much defined the older man's view of people in the world. Strong emotions were reserved for those who fell into the first two categories. Well, at least he was consistent. Blair really couldn't criticize, seeing as how his own world view was somewhat similar, though he still wanted to believe the latter category was innocents as opposed to inconsequentials. "Anymore relatives waiting in the wings I should be aware of?"

"Not sure. There might be an aunt or two running around somewhere. Maybe an uncle. Probably a few cousins...." Jim grinned at the understanding he found in his friend's eyes. "How about you?"

"Not sure. There might be an aunt or two running around somewhere. Maybe an uncle. Probably a few cousins...." Blair parroted the other's words back at him.

"Funny, Sandburg." Jim returned his attentions to his now cold breakfast, as did Blair.

"So where are we going to start?" Blair squinted in the bright sunlight that greeted them as they stepped out of the diner and began walking towards the truck.

Donning a pair of sunglasses, Ellison unconsciously turned up his eyesight and surveyed the area around them. Observing nothing out of the ordinary, he unlocked the passenger door of the truck before walking around to the driver's side. "I thought we'd start at Jake's house. After we drop that off at the post office." He indicated the t-shirt bundle in Blair's lap as he started the truck and put it into gear.

"Are you going to be okay with this?" Blair looked his partner in the eye.

"Someone's got to do it."

"Yeah, but are you going to be okay with it?" Blair persisted, needing to hear from the Sentinel that he could handle the case. When did I get to be the mature partner?

"Yeah." After watching you die, this is going to be easy.

After several moments of silence, Blair nodded, realizing that he'd gotten all from his friend he was going to, at least for the moment.