Jim leaned against the counter, attempting to ease the pain in his head by rubbing his temples. The pervasive sense that his friendship of six years was falling apart invaded every muscle. The tension wound its way up his neck and into his skull. It became rapidly obvious that his massage was useless. The Tylenol he'd ingested a short while ago seemed insufficient as well.

He wanted to talk to Blair, somehow clear the air, but every time he saw his friend's face, the last comment shot at him resurfaced. He couldn't grasp how Blair could think he cared nothing for the people of Cascade. I'm a cop, for Christ's sake! he thought. That decision had been made long before his senses were available to him, and not out of any perceived duty to a tribe. It wasn't that he was indifferent to women or children, either. He loved both. There was value in fighting the battles you could win. Some things, even horrible things, occur and there was nothing to be done to stop them.

Blair's sense of fairness and justice endeared him to the Sentinel, while at the same time aggravating him endlessly. His fresh perspective had solved more cases than Jim could count, yet it also caused trouble when he followed it on his own.

As Jim wandered back to his desk, the inner war raged on, fueled by his Guide ducking out on him yet again. He lowered himself into his chair, a sullen look on his face as he pondered his friend's penchant for trouble. His eyes alighted on a new file with Blair's name at the top. Flipping it open, he found a pair of forensics reports detailing the results of test run on ashes.

"Ashes?" he said out loud.

"Jim?" Henri questioned, and Jim explained.

"Just reading this report from forensics. Do you know what Blair was doing with ashes?" Henri approached, looking over Jim's shoulder.

"Not a clue, babe, but I saw him yesterday with a burial urn. Thought it was strange, but then, it was Sandburg." He flashed a broad smile.

"Nothing too unusual for him, is it?" His eyes returned to the comments on the form, Henri reading along with him. They both reached the same words simultaneously.

"Not human?" they asked, almost in unison. Jim read the passage aloud.

"The sealed container was received, seal broken under sterile conditions. Light gray ashes were removed. Despite the label indicating human remains, the complete absence of bone fragments and lack of calcium in the ashes suggests a non-animal organic source for the contents. Preliminary spectral analyses are consistent with a type of wood ash."

"Who would pass off wood ashes as human remains?" Henri asked.

"There's a name given -- Cathy Harris."

"Jim, there's another report," Henri pointed out, pulling the second sheet out of the file. Scanning it quickly, he confirmed, "It says the same thing, wood ash."

Jim pulled his keyboard closer, punching in the name on the top form, before asking Henri for the name on the second.

"Jenna Long," he replied.

While the computer searched for the records, Jim searched his memory for why the names were familiar. Moments later, Blair's reports filled the screen. Scrolling down, they absorbed the information gleaned from Blair's interviews with Dana's acquaintances. Noting the doctor's name, he initiated a search for that information as well. Henri watched all of this in fascination.

"Is this what Sandburg's been working on the last few days?" he inquired.

"Yeah," Jim answered absently. "He's been very thorough as well," he observed, a hint of pride in his voice.

"How did Blair get a hold of ashes?" Henri pressed, unable to read as fast as Jim was scrolling.

"They belong to women who thought they were their babies. Somehow they got switched." He continued reading Blair's impression of Dr. Donahue, realizing in his partner's comments on the doctor's research the motivation behind his contempt.

"It would have to be on purpose, but who would do that?" Henri questioned skeptically.

"Sandburg thinks it has to do with this doctor."

"Guess you'd better get the dirt from him when he returns," Henri suggested with a smile, slapping Jim playfully on the shoulder as he stood to leave.

"Mmhmm," he answered, contemplating just that task.

Blair jogged the last block to the deli, reaching Tecia's side completely out of breath. It didn't help that the ache in his chest complained with each deep breath. He dropped into the seat, supporting his ribs.

"Are you OK?" Tecia inquired.

"I'll be fine," he assured, fighting to control his respiration. "How did you get away from work?"

"Golf day. Drs. Provost and Dennis go to lunch at their club and tee off at 1. We usually do paperwork in the morning, then we all get the afternoon off," she replied, sipping at her soda. The waitress arrived and Blair requested tea.

"What did you find out?" he questioned.

"Well, I copied some of the files from Dr. Donahue's lab. I don't know how much it will help. Most of what was listed was tissue type and protein marker information. I did find a file on each of the three names you gave me. I left them in my car, though."

"That's great. I appreciate it so much," Blair responded, accepting his tea from the server.

"It was very strange."

"What was?" Blair encouraged.

"Dr. Donahue's whole lab was in boxes, everything except his specimens. I knew he was leaving, but it must be a whole lot sooner than his partners believe."

"What kind of specimens does he keep?"

"I'm not really sure. He keeps them in this giant walk-in refrigerator. Trish is always mentioning how many he has and how important they are to his work."

Blair finished his tea and, noting the time, stood to leave.

"We need to get the files. I have to get back to the station."

"My car is just around the corner." He stood back with a flourish, gesturing for her to lead the way.

Opening the passenger door of the small car, she retrieved the papers stacked on the seat. Presenting them to Blair, they were distracted when someone called her name.

"Miss Cunnigham?" She recognized the man and responded.

"Mr. Donahue," she identified. Blair could see the family resemblance when the man turned to him.

"Detective Sandburg, I presume?"

"Yesss," he drawled, then froze when he saw the gun shoved in Tecia's side and heard her gasp.

"Let's go for a ride," Ricky snarled.

Ricky ushered the pair into the office where Ray was collecting books from his shelves.

"Look what I found," he announced. Ray looked appalled when he saw the detective and the nurse in his office. Blair's handcuffs captured his wrists behind his back, while a scarf contained Tecia's.

"Dammit, Ricky! What did you do?" Ray whined.

"Only what I had to, bro." He displayed the papers from Tecia's car.

"What's that?" he demanded. Tecia cowered next to Blair while he responded.

"Some information on your research. I was curious to know more." Blair fought to keep the trepidation he felt out of his voice.

"I'll bet," Ricky sneered, digging his firearm deeper into Blair's side, making him wince when it came in contact with a bruised rib.

"Ricky, stop. This isn't right," Ray pleaded.

"Look, I said I'd do what I had to. He's a cop. Do you think he's gonna let you go knowing what's in those files?"

Ray closed his eyes, mouthing silently. After a long moment, he focused on his brother.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

"We just need to keep them out of the way until we're gone."

"OK, OK." Ray yielded with an exasperated sigh. "Leave them in here with me. The trucks should be out back soon. The guys are going to need help loading them. Call me when you're ready for the cold stuff." Ricky seemed unhappy, but he complied, pushing Blair with his weapon toward the chair he'd sat in previously. Tecia was directed to the matching seat.

Ray resumed his work, plucking several more volumes from the shelf. Ricky addressed the captives one last time.

"I won't be far, so don't try anything smart," he recommended.

Jim paced the bullpen as the clock's ticking thundered in his ears. Simon remained on the phone in his office, everyone else having already prepared to descend on Cascade's port. He hated what his partner was making him do. He didn't want to cover for the younger detective, despite reading the reports. The knowledge that Blair had disregarded the wishes of both himself and their captain weighed heavily in his thoughts, irritating him deeply. Then the Blessed Protector side kicked, equally hurt at being left out, and wanting to protect Blair from the wrath of Simon Banks. Confident that the captain would never split them up, he still resented the need to run interference at times, despite Simon's fondness for the ex-anthropologist.

Simon hung up the phone and exited the office, straightening his tie as he walked.

"Are we ready?" he questioned Jim.

"Yes, sir, we seem to be," Jim replied smoothly. Simon glanced around the room.

"Where's Sandburg?" Jim paused, not yet sure how he wanted to answer.

"Jim, what's going on?" he asked, laying a hand in concern on the detective's shoulder.

"He's not back yet," Jim said.

"Dammit, I don't have time to pull this out of you bit by bit. Where is he?" Simon demanded.

"He went and investigated that baby's death after all. He was meeting with someone today, but he promised to be back in time."

"How long have you known about this?" he accused.

"He's been on it all along. We keep going round about it, but we always end up in different places."

Simon worried the cigar in his fingers. "You know, he could be suspended for this."

"Yes, sir." Jim was defeated, unable to provide any words that could shield his Guide this time.

"Let's go and hope he catches up," Simon offered, leading the way, certain Jim would follow.

They sat a while in silence. Blair wriggled as pins and needles started in his arms. Finally perching himself nearer the edge of the chair, he found a little comfort. Free of the distraction, he questioned the doctor.

"Dr. Donahue, I was wondering about that article you wrote on growing neural tissue." Both Tecia and Ray turned surprised faces to him, the doctor recovering first.

"What do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously, pulling another book from the top shelf.

"It can't be as easy as your article intimated to culture, and your lab here isn't very large."

"So, what's the question?" Ray snapped.

"How'd you do it?"

"I haven't yet. You're right, I need a larger workplace."

"That's why you're moving?" Blair guessed.

"Among other things," he hinted. "I got an offer I couldn't refuse from a university in China." He looked smug when he met Blair's gaze.

"You've been planning this for some time," Blair observed. A sigh escaped from Ray's lips, confirming the statement.

"About three months," he answered softly.

"Why now?" Blair pressed before he could think better of the question.

"My grant money is about to expire." Blair let his confusion show.

"Why don't you just renew it?"

"Remember that pathologist in England three months ago? The whole scandal surrounding his research? His work was legal, he technically had permission, but he lost everything anyway." Ray stepped closer to Blair. "His job, his work, his funding -- gone! All because he wasn't discreet."

"He had pieces of children!" Blair interjected.

"'People want solutions, they want cures," he asserted vehemently, standing over the bound detective. "When they get sick, they don't really care about the animals used in research, or the humans who endured the side effects or died testing a therapy. They just want to feel better."

"If that were the case, then no one would care what you did for research," Blair insisted.

"It is true of sick people. It's the healthy ones who set the limits, who determine what is ethical. What right do they have to limit another person's choices?"

"So, only those who are desperate for any means to survive have a vote? What about the children you are killing?"

Ray leaned over, resting his hands on the leather arms of Blair's seat, staring at him intently.

"Have you ever had a serious illness? Known someone who was going to die? Or maybe doomed to be trapped in a body that no longer functions?" Blair held his gaze, maintaining the silence until the doctor spoke again.

"I have, and if the life of one unwanted fetus can save that very desired life, I don't think anything should stand in the way."

"What about murder?" Tecia suggested softly, and Ray seemed to deflate.

"That was an unfortunate waste," he commented.

"You're sick!" she spat.

"No!" He faced her, "One problem of growing the tissue is that it becomes type specific. Her baby had the tissue I needed to save my..." He broke off, realizing how much he'd revealed. Slamming the last book into a box, he stormed out of the room.

Jim watched as the two tractor-trailer trucks rumbled down the street. From where he and Simon sat, they had a view of the cargo ship being loaded, as well as one of the aisles available for approaching traffic. Using his Sentinel vision, Jim could also keep an eye on Maritime Street, the location of the trucks. The configuration of the containers seemed odd to Jim, as if one was made up of machinery rather than open.

"They're here," he announced to Simon when he noted them entering the container terminal. The captain nodded, and raised the radio in his hand.

Blair had lost track of time, his watch stuck behind his back with his now numb arms. It felt like hours had passed, his mind wondering whom the doctor intended to save with Dana's baby. He thought also of Jim, realizing that although he now had the proof he needed, by the time he'd be able to use it, the subjects would be an ocean away.

He sent a silent apology to his partner, positive that the time had come and gone for the raid at the shipping terminal. The knowledge that neither Jim nor Simon would listen to him now depressed him further. All at once, inspiration hit.

"Trucks, Tecia."

"What?" she asked in a voice tinged with pain and fatigue.

"How would they move the specimens?" he questioned.

"I saw trucks out back this morning. Two of them, with cargo containers on the back," she answered.

"They're taking them by ship," he mused aloud.

"I suppose so. How else does one get to China?" Ignoring her sarcasm, he was buoyed by the understanding that Jim and Simon would intercept the cargo. Then he remembered he hadn't told them about his suspicions, and his heart sank again.

The door opened to admit Ricky.

"Where's Dr. Donahue?" Blair inquired.

"He had to go. Said I should hide you where no one would find you until tomorrow." Something in his tone made Blair aware he didn't intend to follow that order. Ricky's hands shook when he gestured for the pair to lead the way from the room.

Directing them into the lab, he sat them on 2 stools, shoulder to shoulder, and moved to the other side of the room.

Jim held his gun up as Simon slipped into position behind him. Stretching his hearing, he mentally checked off the other detectives and SWAT police as they also fell into place, surrounding the containers and the men detaching them from the trucks.

He peered around the corner of the box they stood behind. Four men worked quickly, removing the straps that held the cargo container to the trailer. They spoke little, and even without his visual advantage, he could identify three of them.

Nodding to Simon that all were ready, and aware they waited for his move first, Jim stepped around the corner.

Blair was growing nervous watching Ricky work around the lab. Most of the shelves were empty, but he seemed to have some supplies under one of the cabinets. With his back turned to them, he assembled the pieces, cursing frequently.

"Tecia?" Blair whispered, concerned when he noticed her tremors.

"What?" she answered shakily.

"How are you doing?" he inquired.

"I'm scared." They were angled slightly away from each other. Blair could only see part of her profile, but her voice betrayed her tears.

"Dammit!" cried Ricky, startling both of them. Turning suddenly, Blair could see his hand bleeding profusely. Grabbing a paper towel to apply pressure, he faced the duo. "You're a nurse, right?" Tecia shook harder, unable to speak.

"She is," Blair answered for her and the wounded man came over behind them. A moment later, Tecia was rubbing her wrists.

"Go, get something to put on this," he ordered, holding his sliced hand up for her to see. His hands were trembling violently, and he fidgeted constantly. She was headed for the door when Ricky spoke again. "Don't try going for the phone either. Just get the stuff and get back here."

She nodded leaving the room.

Ricky paced aimlessly in her absence, finding it difficult to hold pressure with the twitching of his arms. Blair questioned him, hoping shock would subdue their captor for them.

"Are you OK? You're shaking an awful lot."

"I'm fine. It's just time for my medicine," he replied, still unable to remain still.

"Medicine?" Blair prodded.

"Yeah, as in drugs, pharmaceuticals, doctors and such." Blair observed him longer, finally recognizing the characteristic movements.

"You have Parkinson's Disease."

"What of it, cop?" he snapped as Tecia rejoined them, laden with gauze and tape. Ricky rested his hand on a table for her ministrations.

"That's why you are helping Dr. Donahue," Blair observed.

"Pretty smart deduction," he growled, cringing when Tecia cleaned the gash. "My brother has the key to fixing this disease, and not just for me. He just needs the money to develop the procedure."

"He's killing babies," Blair stated. Ricky shrugged.

"They would die anyway. He's trying to save lives that people want."

"What about the Foster baby?" Blair demanded. Tecia finished the bandage and Ricky dragged her back over to the stool, fastening her hands again before addressing the question.

"That was a mistake. Accidents happen," he explained.

"It was murder!" Blair insisted.

"It doesn't matter now. Ray will continue his work far away from here where they aren't so strict with their funding." He walked over to the object that had injured him, and applying another wire, he carried it over to the table nearest the pair. Blair paled when he identified the homemade bomb.

"What are you going to do?" he asked, feeling the panic rising in his chest.

"Ray said to make sure you weren't found until tomorrow, but why take chances? If no one ever finds you, then you two can't make any trouble for us." He smiled, and it occurred to Blair that one who could discuss so callously the death of infants would have no problems with the adults between him and a cure for his illness.

"You think 30 minutes is enough?" Ricky asked.

"Please don't do this. We won't say anything," Tecia begged.

The man looked at her, and Blair was sure he saw sadness in his face.

"I'd like to believe you, but it's a chance I can't afford to take." He flipped a switch on the timer, twisting the handle to open a Bunsen burner as he left.

The dockworkers surrendered without a fight, only their unknown partner protesting at all. A uniformed officer brought him over to talk to the senior detectives while Felix Grant, Sean Pearl, and Chuck Vail were placed in a cruiser.

"What are we being charged with?" the man demanded.

"Detective Jim Ellison, Captain Simon Banks," Jim introduced. "We'll decide what charges to include after we search your containers."

"I presume you have a warrant for that?" he sneered.

"As a matter of fact, Mr.?" Simon interjected, holding aloft the requested form.

"It's doctor. Dr. Ray Donahue. All that is in those containers is my research files and specimens. If you open them, you'll destroy years of work and find nothing illegal," Ray asserted.

Jim started at the name, sizing up the subject of his partner's scrutiny. He noted the nervous spike in the doctor's heartrate at the mention of a search. It stood in sharp contrast to his irritated demeanor. Simon argued briefly with him while Jim's thoughts wandered to his absent Guide, trying to decipher how their cases could overlap and neither of them realize it. Simon shoving a sheaf of papers in front of him dragged his attention back to the dock.

"Here's the manifest. Do you see anything that gives us cause to open these boxes?" Simon requested, a pleading tone in his voice. Jim became aware that the SWAT teams were already standing down, the planned-for raid evidently nonexistent.

Jim took the list, and glanced at the first page. Each box in the first container was listed with a reference number and a vague description of its contents. Flipping through a few pages, he was annoyed by the lack of information provided. Reaching the fifth page, he was rewarded with more details as the items in the second container were listed.

Beside the reference numbers, the index included names and dates. His eyes browsed the columns until a familiar name leapt off the page. Continuing his examination, he saw two other names known to him.

"Simon, we need to open the cold container," he announced. Ray rolled his eyes and resumed his protest.

"Tecia, listen to me," Blair commanded his hysterical companion. "Is the freezer airtight?"

"As far as I know," she snuffled. "It's cold in there, though."

"In a few minutes that'll be better than the heat out here," he observed, hopping off his stool. He'd heard Ricky throw the lock when he left, so walking out was not an option and the odor of the gas leaking from the burner was becoming overpowering. Supporting Tecia with his shoulder when she stumbled off her seat, he led the way. The latch was tricky, but between them they got it open. Relieved to find it unfastened from the inside as well, but disappointed that neither of them could reach the light switch in their bound state, he let the door slide shut. The inky blackness threatened to overwhelm him briefly.

"I'm cold," Tecia mentioned, forcing him to focus on her instead.

"Come here and sit close. We'll be out of here soon," he promised.

Jim, Simon and Rafe examined the glass cases stacked in the frigid box. He had passed the second two names to the others to locate, while he looked for the first, fighting his disgust at what he could see.

The many tiny bodies were each encased in a glass 'coffin', surrounded by a clear liquid. It was colder than a freezer in the cargo container, a very efficient refrigerator working overtime while the door stood open. Each case had an ID number attached near the end. Rafe's voice distracted him momentarily.

"Jim, I found it," the young detective confirmed, his revulsion evident in his voice.

"Mine, too," Simon added. "How can a doctor do this?"

Jim shook his head, his eyes alighting on the object of his search. He looked closer, focusing through the refraction of the fluid to the premature infant within. A perfect body with ten fingers and ten toes became apparent, looking angelic. He was drawn in to the child, willing its chest to move, for it to draw a breath, for the pale skin to come alive with a cry, for the faint marks on the little neck to fade. All that existed was the infant in front of him.

"Jim!" the shout disturbed his reverie, and all at once, Jim was devoid of strength. Simon slid an arm around his shoulder while he leaned on the frame of the container to regain his composure. "What a time for Blair to take a day off!" the captain swore.

"I'm OK," Jim answered, shaking off the effects of the zone as he realized what he had seen. "Blair was right. He murdered the Foster baby," he murmured for his captain's ears only.

"What did you see?" Simon asked incredulously.

"There are marks on its neck," he replied, walking out into the sunlight. Simon swore again, following Jim, his cell phone already dialing for a forensics team.

"Like what you see?" Ray taunted from where he leaned against a police car. The officer guarding him stepped forward to hold Jim back when he lunged for the man's throat.

"You son-of-a- bitch. They're babies!" Jim cried, fighting against the arm firmly holding him, while more officers came closer.

"Careful, detective. You can't do anything to save these lives," he stated cryptically. "I have complete documentation to the validity of my samples. This matter will be dismissed, and I'll still be on my way to China."

"And my partner has information that you deceived the parents of those infants, that they thought their children were dead before you stole them." The doctor paled slightly, but regained his poise quickly.

"What does he have? The words of distraught women? Not very strong proof in that, detective."

"He had some tests run on the ashes of those children. The results were very interesting," Jim replied.

"Jim, that's enough. We'll get it out of him when we interrogate him later." The captain's hand replaced those of the officers restraining him, and turned him away from the doctor.

"Without his testimony to verify where he got those ashes, you have nothing." Jim and Simon turned as one. "And I've made sure he won't be available for a few days. Just long enough for me to get on a plane."

"What the hell?" Simon began, tightening his grip as Jim surged forward again.

"Let me go," Ray reasoned. "You can keep the stuff in the containers. My brother is keeping an eye on your detective, for now." He looked Jim in the eye. "You know, he told me about the mishap in the warehouse. Too bad he missed, could have saved us all a lot of trouble."

"Get him out of here!" Simon barked, tired of the pointless goading. Realizing Jim was no longer fighting him, he met the Sentinel's eyes.

"I should have listened to him," Jim stated plaintively.

"Jim, pull it together. Where would he be?"

"He could be anywhere," Jim replied.

"Well, let's start at Dr. Ray Donahue's office," Simon suggested.

They followed the fire engines into the back parking lot of Northside Medical Center, having overheard the dispatch for the silent alarm of fire at their destination. Even so, the smoke billowing from the second story windows of the annex shocked them. Simon spoke to the dispatcher while Jim tracked down the Fire Chief. By the time they had the information they sought, the internal fire suppression systems had functioned, allowing the clouds to dissipate.

At his insistence, the Fire Chief allowed Jim to accompany the firefighters as they cleared the building, providing him with appropriate turnout gear.

"The clinic is on the second floor," Simon informed him with a silent prayer that his newest detective was not involved with the conflagration.

Following the professionals through the dark stairwell, Jim found the heavy coat and airtank cumbersome despite his physical condition. He thought briefly to the heavier-than-usual man leading the way, wondering how he managed the agility he displayed. They passed the door announcing the entrance to the Camdon Prenatal Clinic and the damage from both smoke and water increased dramatically. Thick soot lined the top third of the walls in an irregular pattern and they sloshed through ankle deep ponds that escaped quickly through each door opened.

"Must have been closed today!" called the leader, shouting to be heard above the cycle of the respirators.

Jim opened a door on his right, examining the vacant office. A box sat on the desk, saturated cardboard slagging around the contents. Peeling it aside, he found books within. The shelves around the room were clear, except for the lines of dust along their edges.

Josh Franklin, one of the other firefighters checking the building, poked is head in the office. "There's no one here," he stated, yelling to be sure he was heard. "The fire investigators are on the way in."

Jim nodded in response, sending silent thanks that his partner's body hadn't been found in the destruction. "Can I see where the fire started?"

"Sure." Josh motioned him to follow, and led the way into a devastated lab. The tables were tossed haphazard against the walls, leaving a charred open area near the center of the room. Josh pointed to his mask, shouting again.

"We can take these off now," he stated, loosening the straps holding the respirator in place. Jim followed suit, automatically dampening his sense of smell in preparation.

So focused was Jim on avoiding the acrid odor, he neglected his elevated hearing. Instantly assaulted by a cacophony of noise, he took a few moments to distinguish the sounds around him. Dismissing the distant splashes of water, the footsteps on the floor above and the power tools, he rapidly became aware of a pair of faint rhythms standing in contrast to the increased rate in Josh's and his own heart. They seemed close by, but muffled.

"You've checked everywhere?" he demanded, grabbing Josh by the arm.

"All the rooms, yes," the firefighter confirmed, confusion evident in his face. Jim released him, eyes roaming the room.

"Someone's here, I hear them," he muttered, becoming frantic as the beats slowed measurably.

"What? I didn't hear that," Josh asked, but Jim's sight fell on a metal door obscured by an upended table.

"Chief, tell me you didn't," he murmured, pushing at the table. "Give me a hand here," he requested of the firefighter. Together they moved it aside and Jim dragged the door open against the smaller debris. Through the heavy coat Jim could feel the rush of air exchanging and tell the temperature within the metal room was near zero. The chill instantly formed a thick fog in the lab, but Jim fought his way through the mist to reach the source of the sound, barely discerning the two figures huddled along the wall. He fell to his knees beside them, pulling them apart to look into the face of his Guide.