Blair Sandburg hated being wet. He hated running and hiding, and being cold. He hated it when his partner -- his Sentinel -- did things like this and refused to talk about it.

Fleeing into an alley after a narrow escape from a squad car, Jim pushed him between two dumpsters. Blair tried to catch his breath as Jim watched for the police. "We have to get out of Cascade," Jim whispered as he sank back against the wall.

"For the hundredth time Jim, what's going on?"

"It hasn't been a hundred times, Chief," the weary detective said absently. "You've asked that question, twenty times. Tops."

"That is 'so' not funny." Blair resisted the urge to grab his companion and shake him. Mostly because it would be like shaking an oak tree, but also because the man seemed to be afraid. And anything that would scare Jim Ellison this badly... well, Blair wasn't completely sure he wanted to know about it.

They had crossed Cascade, skirting past the streets and staying in the shadows. Now the watery, gray sunrise was showing through the overcast and they were -- according to Jim -- much too visible.

"Come on. We have to get off the streets before someone spots us." Jim took his arm and stood up, bringing Blair with him. "We're almost there."

"Maybe I should get some roller-skates," the younger man grumbled testily. "Then you could just drag me behind you where ever you went."

"Don't be ridiculous." Jim took off down the back street with his partner in tow. "The pavement around here... much too rough to roller skate on." The exposed paving stones in the old street were slippery and slick with the thick morning mist and other things Blair would rather not think of. His sneakers could barely find traction on the black, greasy looking surface.

A few blocks later, they ducked down a stairwell and into the back door of a ramshackle shop. The basement room was filled with dust and assorted piles of junk. Old TVs, cameras, and typewriters were stacked everywhere, competing for space with CD players, laptop computers and car stereos.

"Ellison. You can't come in here." A large, bald man hustled toward them, a grim expression on his face. "You 'n him are all over the news. I don't need this much heat comin' down on me."

"Shut up Harry." Jim closed the door between the storeroom and the shop. "We need ID and some other stuff. Wheels -- something clean -- and some clothes, hunting gear maybe."

"Ellison. I can't..."

"Harry. If I go to jail, I won't need a snitch. Then, I'll have no reason to keep quiet about certain things."

"ID like you guys need costs a lot." Harry looked around nervously, as if expecting SWAT to burst through the door at any moment.

Jim took a small velvet covered box out of his coat pocket. "This should cover it," he growled as he snapped it open. "I'll need everything on my list by three this afternoon.

Blair looked in amazement at the glittering diamond ring nestled in a tiny pillow of white velvet. An engagement ring, about two carets of glittering blue-white square cut stone.

"Wait here." Harry trotted into his shop, closing the door behind him. Jim listened for a few minutes before sitting down, apparently satisfied.

"Jim? Where did that rock come from?" Blair perched on the edge of the table as he asked the question. "Was it Caroline's?"

Jim flashed a wry grin. "No. Caroline was never one to give back a gift."

"So?"

"So what?"

"So who?" Blair leaned forward, happy to be thinking about anything else for a few minutes. "Who did you buy that rock for?"

Jim frowned at him, trying to look forbidding. As usual, it didn't work. The glare that could send shivers up the spines of the most hardened criminals did not faze Blair. "Lila."

Blair sat back and shut up. Lila? Jim had told him he loved her, but he had not suspected this. Jim was going to ask the beautiful and mysterious woman to marry him. Before he found out that she was an assassin. Blair remembered watching in horror as she ran into the line of fire to help the detective bring down a sniper. He also remembered the feeling of helplessness as a shattered Jim cradled her lifeless body. "I'm sorry, man."

"I don't know what I kept it for."

"Because you loved her." Blair smiled gently as he studied the big man. "You try to act like this cold blooded, tough guy, but you're more sentimental than I am."

Pain and worry filled light blue eyes as Jim studied him. After a long interval his expression went hard and unemotional. "Harry's coming back. Get ready to go."

Simon Banks muttered to himself as he went through Ellison and Sandburg's case files one more time. The facts were starting to come together but it was taking too damn long. There was a knock on the door and he barked, "Enter!" without even looking up.

Megan Connor sauntered in and sprawled full-length on the sofa. Simon didn't have the heart to yell at her. Joel followed her inside, closed the door and sat wearily in the chair across from Simon. The former bomb squad captain looked tired and troubled as he spoke. "Tech called. They found that the video camera at the restaurant was deliberately disabled. By someone who knew what they were doing."

"And Tommy..." Simon said thoughtfully, "...went to dinner without his cadre of bodyguards and hangers-on. Why? Because he was trying to impress a new woman?"

"It makes the hit seem planned," Megan agreed. "Rather than a crime committed in the heat of anger, like that twit of a DA is saying."

"One more thing, Simon. Homicide sent this up. St. John 'Sinjin' Shad-Davies." Taggart tossed the file folder he'd brought in onto the desk. "He was a comparatively well known movie make-up artist from Vancouver. He was found in the trunk of his car at the airport with a bullet in the back of his head."

"Anyone know what he was doing in Cascade?"

Joel shook his head. "No. He told his partner it was a top secret job... that he'd be out of town for two days."

"We think maybe he was brought here, under some pretense, to transform Tommy's killers into reasonable facsimiles of Jim and Blair?" Megan offered

"I know," Joel said patiently. "It sounds crazy."

"Maybe not." Simon muttered as he flipped though the other files in front of him. He opened one and turned it for Joel to see. "Jim and Blair are scheduled to testify against several high profile defendants."

"Including that little freak, Garret Kincaid, at his re-trial." Joel growled angrily.

"And any case that relied on Jim or Blair's testimony would be as good as dismissed." Simon nodded, a satisfied expression on his face. "It's a hell of a good motive."

"I'm gonna go find out how that make-up guy got to Cascade." Getting up to leave, Joel seemed happier than when he'd sat down. Simon thought it was just relief at having something to do and realized that he too felt a little better.

"Things are coming together." Simon waited for Joel to close the door before adding. "But they have to come together before it's too late."

"You think someone might be after Jim and Blair?" Megan sat up and stretched. "Besides their fellow officers, I mean?"

"Looks that way. You know, now more than ever, I HATE that Sentinel stuff." Simon's deep voice rumbled in annoyance. "It has to be what's driving Ellison. Why the hell else would he have run away? He and Blair would have spent one -- maybe two -- nights in secure, isolated cells before making bail. They would have been infinitely safer there than on the streets."

"There are already news stories about the 'killer cop' and the 'deadly detective'." Megan's tone was harsh.

"If a patrol officer confronts them, I wonder how Jim will react? As a police officer, or as a Sentinel. If someone threatens the kid, I'm scared of what he might do." Only to Megan could he voice the worst of his fears. Simon was afraid that time was running out. "Mostly I'm scared that Jim and Blair will be killed before we can sort out the reason behind this damn frame."

Megan stood up. "I'm going to do a national search for felons who fit Jim and Blair's general description. Those hitter's had to come from somewhere."

Simon nodded, picked up the files and started reading through them, one more time.

"Oh hell!" Jim rolled away from the parapet that overlooked Harry's shop. He wasn't surprised. How could he be, when he himself had capitalized on Harry's cowardice and greed in the past? Sandburg was on the fire escape, white around the lips and clutching the rusty railing as he peered up at Jim. "There are cops all over the place." Jim whispered as he scuttled down the steep roof, climbed over the edge and dropped to the fire escape. "They're setting a trap for us."

"What now?" Blair's apprehensive voice followed him as he scrambled down the steep, creaking metal stairs.

"Now we run." Jim paused only long enough for Blair to catch up, then he raced toward the worst section of Cascade.

The cellar of the condemned building was chilly and damp, but it was the safest place Jim could think of to hide. The torn fragment of foam rubber padding was moist and smelly, but Jim pushed it into a recessed storage area and covered it with several sheets of construction plastic. Wearily he slid down the wall and patted the space next to him. "Sit, Chief."

"Oh man, I'm freaking out." Now that he could finally rest, the younger man paced nervously, as if he expected to be pounced on at any moment. "I still can't believe it. They were going to take us in. Simon... Megan... they are actually hunting us."

"Sit, before you fall down." Jim spoke quietly and -- as sometimes happened -- their roles were reversed. The guide let his friend calm him and persuade him to relax. "We're safe here for tonight."

Blair plopped down and leaned back against the thin foam and crackling plastic, sighing as if it were his new Lazy-boy. "It's official. Being on the run sucks."

Jim didn't smile. They had, sometimes literally, been on the run for the last twenty-four hours. And it did suck. "I'm going to call Steven. I think we can get you to Canada on his boat."

"Me?" Blair sat up straight. "What about you?"

"I'll lay a false trail." Jim thought fast, knowing that Blair would resist. "Once in Vancouver, Steven can give you some cash to spread around. Get you to Mexico. I'll meet you there."

"We go together, or not at all."

"In case you haven't noticed, we're kind of memorable as a team." Jim's tone was more sarcastic than he meant it to be. "You can dye your hair, grow out your beard. You speak Spanish. No one will be looking for you..."

"Because they'll already have you? Right?" Blair finished furiously, glaring at his partner. "I thought we were past this crap."

"Crap?"

"The 'let's protect the kid' crap. The 'Sandburg can't play with the big boys' crap."

"You wouldn't last five minutes in prison." Jim's tone was unsparing because he had to make Blair understand.

"Whereas the 'Cop of the Year' would thrive in the warm, friendly environment of the local prison." There was a wealth of hurt and anger in his friend's voice. "Don't you think I know what you're doing? Don't you think I see? You want me safe, so you can turn yourself in. It's killing you... hiding from the law... from Simon."

"Damn it, Blair! The creep told me. He's going to use you to get even with me."

"What?" Blair's voice went up several octaves as he rounded on the angry Jim.

"The person behind this called me, used an electric voice scrambler." Jim slumped back against the wall with an air of resignation. "He... they told me that it was all set up -- cops -- guards -- prisoners -- all bought, and paid for. I was going to be forced to watch... they were going to hurt you, then kill us both."

"Jim?" Blair sounded rather ill. "If I go, you have to come with me. Whoever's doing this wants you dead and is willing to go to a lot of trouble to arrange it."

"Me!" Jim said roughly as he tapped his own chest. "You can still get away. You're only wanted as an accessory. If they have me..."

"Together," Blair whispered the word in a fierce low voice. "Or not at all."

Jim knew when he was beaten. If he tried to sneak away, Blair would simply follow him. Into jail. Into hell itself if he had to. The man he had accused of betraying him -- on more than one occasion -- was willingly to die with him. He wanted to ask his partner what he'd ever done to deserve this kind of loyalty.

Instead, he grumbled, "for a genius, you sure do some stupid crap sometimes." He extended one long arm and with his palm, pushed his friend's head back. "Get some sleep. We have hours before nightfall."

"Jim," Blair sat back up, "we have to figure this thing out. There's a theory... let me think... what if we..."

"Think later, sleep now." Jim urged him back, but as soon as his head hit the padding, he popped up again.

"...whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the solution." Blair squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the thin foam pad Jim had found. The plastic crumbled and stuck to his jacket. "I wonder how many spiders are in this basement?"

"What the hell are you talking about Chief?" Jim looked over at him and frowned. He had been in an odd, fatalistic mood since he'd crawled into this cellar and told Blair, at last, why they were on the run.

Meanwhile, Blair had been fighting sleep, trying to come up with some sort of solution. "We aren't guilty. Therefore somebody has set up an incredibly elaborate and expensive frame. They don't just want us dead. They want us to suffer, Simon too, right? Simon has to suffer too... after we're dead?" He had a fragment of an idea kicking around his head. "If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the solution."

"Didn't Mr. Spock say that?"

"Pay attention, Jim." Blair yawned and continued. "We can't prove it's a frame, but maybe if we give the... whoever it is... what they want..."

"Let them stick us in jail to be killed, you mean?"

"Over my dead body." Blair yawned again and huddled under the scant warmth of his jacket.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Jim growled and frowned forbiddingly.

"Exactly." Blair's eyelids closed and he let exhaustion overtake him. "Knew you'd catch on..."

When the restless young man finally surrendered to sleep, Jim cast out a net of sensory awareness and let his eyes drift shut. Blair's close proximity made it easy to drowse and still monitor their surroundings. He was at a loss to figure a way out of this. The law was surely keeping an eye on Steven and his father. By now Blair and his photos were all over the local new shows and it was going to be tough getting out of town.

They could get to the mountains and disappear into the forest. You could hike clear to Canada, without ever leaving the shelter of the timberland. But it was winter. And they had no supplies, or even proper coats and boots. Alone, Jim might chance it, but not with his cold-blooded guide in tow. The kid didn't even have his hideous Fargo hat.

It might be possible to steal a car. Jim could hide while Blair drove. With his hair hidden, and sunglasses on, he wouldn't be recognized.

Then there was money. They would need some money. Blair picked a hell of a time to stop carrying that hundred dollar bill. They would get out of town and find a place to hole up and Jim could call Sally and have his dad send him some cash and... he hated the whole idea.

James Ellison did not run away!

He did not hide in the woods or abandoned buildings. He tracked down the bad guys and busted them. The Sentinel did not run away from his tribe. Every instinct screamed at him to fight -- to stay and hunt down the person behind this.

But how?

His mind kept returning to the imaginative suggestions Blair had been prattling about as he drifted off. Some of his ideas were sort of crazy, but maybe 'crazy' was the answer to an insane situation.

Blair woke with a jolt, and sat up. "Jim! Is it dark?"

"Soon."

With a huge yawn, the weary young man burrowed back under his coat. "Th'n I'm gonnasleep some more."

"OK." Jim grinned and closed his eyes.

"We... gonna ~yawn~ do... that thin' I'sed?" Blair's words slurred drunkenly as sleep overtook him.

"Why not Chief." Jim let the curly head rest against his shoulder for a moment before he carefully edged away and stood up. Resolve filled him and he looked around. "Why not. It sure beats the hell out of running away."

"Come on." Jim shook Blair awake after what seemed a few seconds. "We're gonna do what you said."

Blair shook his head and tried to make sense of what Jim was saying. "What did I say?" The basement was as dark as the bottom of a well, and he blinked his eyes to make sure they were open.

"You know 'If you eliminate the impossible, something... something... about doing what's left... even if it is kinda improbable." Jim sounded as if he expected him to understand this. "That Mr. Spock thing."

Memory returned gradually and Blair looked confused. "Sherlock Holmes?"

"Flattered, Chief, but you thought of it."

"I thought of what?"

"The plan," Jim replied as if it explained everything. He opened the door and the pale beam of a streetlight surrounded him.

Blair scrubbed at his eyes with his fists and tried again. "What plan are you talking about?"

"Your plan to trap the creep who's doing this to us." Jim grinned his rare wide grin and tipped his head. "Come on. We're going to go meet Megan."

"But I did not suggest..."

"I know. It's kinda nuts, but I think this situation calls for that."

"Jim... sleep deprivation makes people do and say things that..."

"I'll fill you in on the details on the way." Jim gestured impatiently and headed out the door. "And put your coat on."

Blair followed his friend into the misty darkness, and as they walked he got a cursory, whispered explanation of The Plan. They skirted the streets and kept to the alleys and walkways between buildings. Jim motioned for him to stop as he spied Megan's car. Instinctively Blair grounded his sentinel with a light touch as he cast a sensory net over the area. When he was satisfied that she was alone, Jim led the way out of the shadows.

"Jaysus, Ellison." The tall woman put her hands on her hips and tossed her hair back. "Do you have any idea of the trouble you've caused?"

"I thought I explained it." Jim was almost standing at attention, his every sense on alert. "Didn't Simon tell you?"

"He told me everything." She grumbled and shook her head. "Joel and IA are investigating the guards and officers at the jail as we speak. You know... you could come with me right now. I'd make sure you and Sandy were safe."

"With a murder rap hanging over us?" Jim snapped in annoyance.

"Jim, are you sure?" Blair stepped forward and joined the conversation. "Maybe it..."

"Damn it, Chief. I would rather be dead than go to prison. I almost lost it at Starkville, and I was just undercover there."

Blair remembered how haunted Jim had been after his time at Starkville Prison. He regretted the one time he pressed Jim to talk about it. "I lay in my locked cell and listened to a kid on the next cell block being gang raped. I was helpless. The misery in that place -- the smells -- the sounds. Oh God, Chief. Is that what you want to hear about?"

"I think we should try this." Shrugging off the memory, Blair touched Jim's tense shoulder and smiled. "I know I would hate prison."

"Bloody madmen." Megan got a large duffel out of her car and handed it to Jim. "And I include our Captain in that statement."

"Did you get everything I asked for?" Jim knelt and unzipped the canvas bag.

"Oh, it's all in there," Megan sighed as she shook her head. "Our friend was in town and came through. I just can't believe you're doing this."

"However improbable, Megan," Jim muttered.

"What?" Megan looked at both men. "Sandy? You want to translate?"

"Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the solution."

"You're quoting Nero Wolfe?" Megan asked incredulously.

"Mr. Spock..." Jim started.

"Sherlock Holmes," Blair said at the same time

Muttering about God looking out for mad men, Megan climbed into her car and left.

"Are you sure? I mean you talked to Simon? You told him?" Wide-awake now, Blair sidestepped nervously, looking around the alley they were hiding in.

"Megan said he had everything under control." It was over two hours since Megan had left and everything was ready. Jim zipped up his parka and tried to look confident as he stashed his back-up piece in the pocket. "Everything will work out. We have to believe that."

"If it doesn't..." Blair hesitated before finishing in a rush. "Don't let them use me to make you, I mean, nuts or anything, OK?"

Jim paused and deciphered what his friend had just said before he answered evenly. "They will never touch us. We aren't going to jail, no matter what happens."

"That's reassuring." Blair tried to grin and failed miserably.

"Come on, Chief." Both hands of Jim's watch moved to twelve. "It's time to go."