At first appearance, Jake Kesler looked like a vagrant. His sandy blonde hair was a little shaggy, his face was clean shaven most of the time, but today he sported a day or two growth of beard. He hobbled down the hallway, using one crutch wearing worn jeans, used up boots, and a ragged Henley under his regulation camouflage field jacket, complete with KESLER sewn over one pocket and USARMY over the other. Stopping in front of apartment 307 he looked back down the hall and leaned his crutch against the wall before quickly picking the lock and ducking inside with his bag. After a second, he opened the door again to retrieve his forgotten crutch.

Ellison was gone, but he had already known that. He had seen him get into a beat up old Ford and drive away as he was coming up the street. Since he was too far away to be heard at the time, he hadn't shouted out to him but continued on his trek, and checked the address again just to make sure before letting himself in. Jimbo was not going to be very happy about the unexpected visit he was sure. But he needed a favor, and Ellison owed him. Owed him big time, and he was here to collect.

Kesler took a good look around, dropping his bag by the door and carrying the crutch in one hand. Stopping by the sound system, he noted that the CD's were not exactly what he thought Ellison would listen to. Smashing Pumpkins? Matchbox 20? Mozart? Certainly an odd collection. It had been a long time since he had seen Jim, and that was at the cop shop, not here. He checked the address again. This was it. Wait. There. Several Santana CD's were included in the eclectic mix. Ok, so maybe he was in the right place after all. Long unused training kicked in when he heard a noise coming from the room right off of the kitchen. He dropped his bulky frame silently behind the sofa and waited, reaching into a boot to draw out a large hunting knife.

From his hiding place all he could make out was a mop of curly brown hair as the occupant of the room shuffled down the hall, presumably to the bathroom and shut the door. A woman. Ellison had gotten married a few years back, or so Jake had heard, but he was sure that it wouldn't have lasted this long. Ellison could be one cold motherfucker when he wanted to and not a whole lot of women could actually deal with the silent type.

The toilet flushed and within a couple of minutes, the shower came on. Curiosity got the better of him, and Jake decided that he had to get a look at Ellison's woman. Creeping quietly towards the bathroom, Kesler stopped just outside the door and opened it a crack, once again catching sight of the luxurious hair and a tiny sliver of skin as a shirt was pulled off and thrown towards the hamper on the opposite wall. As Jake pushed the door open a little farther to get a better look, the object of his inspection reached an arm into the shower to test the water. A slightly hairy arm with well defined, male musculature.

"What the hell?" Kesler said as he forced the door open all the way. The young man jumped and looked around wild eyed for a weapon of some sort. As he reached for the plunger, Jake showed him the knife. "Don't even try it, boy," he murmured threateningly.

"What do you want?" the kid asked, setting his jaw in defiance. But his startling blue eyes betrayed fear to the man who knew fear so well, inside and out.

"What are you doing in this apartment?"

"I live here," came the surprised answer. "What do you want?" he asked again.

"I came to see Ellison," Kesler answered honestly.

The fear in the eyes remained, but the rest of the face was impassive. "Who?"

"You know who," Jake said with a feral grin. "So tell me what an uptight, ex-military, hardass cop like Ellison has to do with a pansy little fuck like you."

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" the kid replied as the fear disappeared completely from the expressive eyes.

Kesler smiled as he lowered the knife. "Hey, Jimbo. I didn't hear you come in," he said as he felt the cold steel barrel press against his temple.

"I guess not. Back up," Ellison growled. "You ok, Sandburg?" he asked the kid.

"Yeah," came the quick reply as the younger man grabbed a too big robe from the back of the door and slipped it on over his boxers. He followed as the other two men made a slow retreat from the tiny room. "Jim, who is this guy?" he asked.

"Jake 'the snake' Kesler. We, uh, served together," Jim said as he relieved his grinning prisoner of the knife and quickly patted him down for other weapons.

"Black ops?" Blair asked impulsively.

"You haven't trained your boy too well," Jake laughed keeping his eyes on Sandburg, amazed at the nervous energy that radiated from him. "Shh. We don't talk about black ops. We just say that we were in the army together."

"Shut up, Jake," Jim said impatiently as he put his gun away. "This is my partner, Blair Sandburg. Blair, Jake."

Blair nodded, but didn't take the outstretched hand. "Snake. That seems fitting. How'd you get in? What were you doing sneaking around out here?"

"No offense, kid. I saw the hair and figured you were Ellison's squeeze. I just wanted to get a peek."

"That's disgusting. I can't believe you just came out and admitted that," Blair said, repulsed by the nonstop leer from the raggedy man.

Jake grinned at Blair's discomfort and winked at him. Jim rubbed his face and sighed. "What do you want, Jake?" he asked wearily.

"I need a place to stay for a couple of days. I won't be any trouble, I swear. I'll sleep on the couch," Jake said.

"Sure," Jim answered tightly. "No problem."

"What?" Blair sputtered. "You know, if I'd have been a woman, or Carolyn for that matter, he might have..."

"No. He wouldn't have," Jim sighed again. "Make yourself at home," he said turning to his gloating houseguest.

Blair stared for a minute. He opened his mouth once to say something, but quickly closed it again. It was Jim's loft. He could invite anyone he wanted to to stay.

"I hope you know, you're running all the hot water down the drain," Jim said turning to Blair.

"Shit!" Blair exclaimed and darted back into the bathroom to shut off the water.

"Wow. He's got a lot of energy," Jake said, nodding towards the bathroom. "So what's the story with him? I don't exactly see you with pets."

"He's an anthropologist studying the social structure of the police force. He rides with me."

"I'll bet he does," Kesler smirked.

Jim frowned and leaned a little closer. "Jake, I'm only going to say this once. Don't fuck with Sandburg. If you do, I'll come down on you. Hard." Jim stared the man down with iced blue eyes. He grimaced as Jake gave in at last and used his crutch to retreat into the livingroom and settle on the couch.

"Whatever you say, Captain. I'd still follow you to hell and back. I won't mess with your little friend."

Jim moved to the kitchen to unload the groceries that he had just come back with. "Breakfast in fifteen minutes!" he called out, listening as the water came back on in the shower. He spared a small grin at the colorful language that his Guide used to describe the coldness of the water.

---

"How long you been in town?" Jim asked as he chewed his toast.

"Bout a week," Jake said before letting out a huge burp and pushing his empty plate away. He didn't offer any more information, but sat staring at Blair.

Blair looked up at him for a minute before returning his attention back to his own food, remaining uncharacteristically subdued.

"What's on your agenda today, Chief?" Jim asked, mostly to break up the uneasy silence that hung between the three of them.

"I need to go to the office for a while and catch up on some things. As a matter of fact, why don't I just stay there this weekend and you two can do some of that GI Joe, male bonding shit. Jake can sleep in my room," Blair offered, gesturing towards his room with his fork.

"No," Jim said quickly. "It's your room. Nobody's gonna kick you out of it. Not even for a weekend," he added, giving Jake the evil eye before he could accept the offer.

Kesler chuckled loudly. "Yeah, Chief. Jimbo don't want to spend anymore time alone with me than he absolutely has to."

"That's not true," Jim lied.

Blair's eyes got a little wider as he observed the interactions of the other men, but he didn't say anything. Kesler gave him the creeps, but Jim was adamant about him not staying at his office. So he once again concentrated on finishing his breakfast, his hair partially hiding his face from Jake's prying eyes as he kept his head down.

"Maybe we can get the kid drunk tonight and turn him into a man," Jake said suddenly. "Remember the old days when we'd get a cherry recruit and take him out to a bar and find the ugliest hooker..."

"The 'kid' is not a cherry, and he's a hell of a lot more of a man than you are," Jim answered hotly.

"Is that right?" Kesler challenged, rising out of his chair.

"That is right," Jim countered, standing as well, glaring back with venom in his eyes.

"Hey, guys! Chill out. Jeez, you can actually smell the testosterone in here. I'm leaving. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone," Blair lectured as he dropped his mostly empty plate off in the sink. He stopped at the door with a questioning gaze at his friend. Jim waved him on and took his own plate and Kesler's to the sink and began to fill it with water. "Later," Blair sighed as he left.

"Sorry," Jim muttered with his back to his unwelcome guest.

Kesler limped into the kitchen. "Well that was interesting. You're just a tad over the top when it comes to that kid, aren't you?"

"He's not a kid, he's almost thirty years old. What do you really want, Snake? I know you didn't just drop by for a visit. You only show up when you want something."

"Oh, you hurt me, Jim," Jake said holding his hand over his heart. Ellison shot him a dangerous look, so he dropped the antics. "I need a favor."

"No kidding," Jim deadpanned. "What else is new?"

"Greg Halstead is trying to kill me."

Jim narrowed his eyes and turned around to face the now serious man. "Why?"

"You know why. I'm an embarrassment. I don't fit the image of the elite force that we belonged to."

Jim gave him a look that clearly stated that he didn't believe him. "Bullshit."

Jake rolled his eyes before admitting the truth. "I pushed him for money, and he pushed back. He doesn't want me showing up on his doorstep anymore. I don't fit in with his new friends."

"I don't buy that either," Jim said shaking his head. "If Greg wanted you dead, you'd be dead. And I don't want you on my doorstep either, but here you are."

"I tried to blackmail him..."

"Kesler! I can't believe you!" Jim swore, slamming his hand down on the cabinet. "You know that I'm a cop. If you start confessing shit, I'll have to arrest you,"

"Poor choice of words, Jimbo," Jake backpedaled. "Emotional blackmail. That's not illegal, right? You'd really arrest me?"

"You can stay two days," Jim stated firmly. "Monday morning I want your ass out of here."

---

Blair poked his head in as he opened the door slowly. "Is it safe?" he asked jokingly, then noticed the unconscious form in the livingroom. "Damn, Jim. Did you knock him out?"

Kesler lay sprawled on his stomach on the couch, while Jim was busy in the kitchen starting dinner. "No, but it's not because I didn't want to," Jim confessed.

"Sorry I bugged out on you, man, but I did have a lot to do today. Is he really asleep?"

Jim tilted his head slightly and took in the prone man's vital signs. "Yeah, he's out cold."

"Ok, so what's the story here? You obviously don't care for the man. Why didn't you just kick him out?" Blair asked.

Jim shrugged and turned back to the chicken breasts that he was marinating. He looked... guilty.

"Name one redeeming quality that the guy has," Blair pushed.

"He doesn't snore," Jim smirked.

"Ok, that's one," Blair conceded. "Come on, Jim. What's really going on?"

"I owe him," Jim said at last, his face grim.

"You owe him?" Blair prodded carefully.

"He saved my life. And it pretty much cost him his." Jim turned and looked toward the sleeping man with a strange combination of admiration and disgust.

"That man? Jake the snake? Saved your life."

Jim nodded and picked up an all but forgotten beer off of the counter to take a swig. "He took a bullet for me."

Blair's mouth came open and he stared hard at the lump on the couch. Suddenly things took on a new light. "That's why he uses the crutch."

"Yeah. The bullet lodged in his spinal cord. He was paralyzed for a little while, but then it looked like he was going to be ok. Then his wife got pregnant and he went on a downhill spiral."

"I don't understand," Blair said.

"It, uh, also left him impotent. Couldn't have been his baby. He took it bad. Started drinking. I think there may have been some drug abuse. I mean I'm sure he was abusing prescription pain killers for a while."

"Oh, I see. But Jim, that's not your fault. I mean, the guy's an asshole. You can't tell me that he developed his whole personality just because he was shot."

"I know. I just try to help him out from time to time. I haven't seen him in a long time. Usually he just shows up at the station wanting money."

"So why does he want to stay with you now?"

"He thinks he needs protection. The dumbass thinks another old aquaintance of ours wants him dead," Jim snorted.

"But you don't think so," Blair surmised.

"No, I don't think so. The man that he thinks is after him would have already disposed of the body, and I guarantee that no one would ever find it. He's that good. Or he used to be. He's a businessman now, and a damned successful one."

The phone rang, and Blair snagged it on the first ring, not wanting to wake the 'guest'. Jim in turn snagged the phone from Sandburg. "Ellison," he said into the receiver, pushing away Blair's hand as he fought him for control of it, finally capturing his smaller friend in a headlock. Suddenly he stilled and dropped his arm. "We were just talking about you," he said quietly.

Blair backed out of Jim's grasp and grew solemn, waiting anxiously for the conversation to be over so that he could find out what was going on. Jim listened for a minute, looking from Blair to Kesler. "Ok, I'll meet you there," he said and hung up the phone.

"What?" Blair asked.

"That was Greg Halstead. He's looking for Kesler."

"Where are we going?"

"We are not going anywhere," Jim said. "You are going to stay here and baby-sit the snake while I go hear Greg's side of this little drama."

"You don't think this guy will try anything, do you?" Blair asked. "You said he was good. I assume you meant that he's good at killing people."

"Don't worry, Chief. I like Greg. And he's long since retired from that game. You've got the hard part. I'd let you come with me, but Jake would probably clean us out while we were gone."

Blair groaned, clearly not liking the idea of Jim going off alone to face this guy. "Ok. But be careful," he cautioned.

"Yeah, I will. You too." Jim stopped in the doorway and stared at Kesler briefly. Blair could handle him. No problem. He'd be fine, he told himself, but made a mental note to get back as soon as possible.