"I didn't think that you could pull it off," the woman said with a satisfied smile. "Here you go. Fifty thousand dollars." She tossed the satchel towards the gloating man. "Now get lost. I don't ever want to see you again."

"I know," Jake said with a grunt. "I get that a lot. How did Ellison kill him?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him, as he opened the leather pouch and thumbed through the money.

"Snapped his neck, or so I hear. Ellison has already been arrested."

"Oh. I'm surprised they got him," Jake said wistfully.

"Apparently, he turned himself in," the woman supplied.

Jake nodded and moved to the door. "That sounds like something he would do," he simpered, suddenly sad that he had had to break the man who had stood by him for so long. He felt no compassion for Halstead though. He had had it too easy for too long. It had made him soft.

When Kesler shut the door behind him, Claudia Godwin sat down in the dingy chair next to the bed. "Here he comes, boys. He has the money." She sighed as she waited for the officer to come and take her back downtown. Someday she would learn patience. This was an expensive lesson. Never try to hire an undercover cop to knock off your failed hitman. At least with the plea bargain, her hard time would be done in a nicer prison.

---

Dumb luck had dropped Godwin into their laps, Jim reflected as he watched Kesler leave the motel. Blair's unbelievable luck stuck again. If it held, they would have him back within the hour. And Jim would take the snake apart, piece by piece. Stepping away from the surveillance truck, he stayed back a little as he followed his old pal, sans crutch, down an alley, through a junkyard, and down a ravine to a deserted overpass. He directed the rest of the task force via radio.

Jake disappeared into a rusty old van painted with flowers and a rainbow parked under the bridge. Jim knelt down behind an old washing machine and listened intently. Blair was in the van, and he was alive, but injured. Jim allowed the briefest moment of thanks, then moved closer as the team fell into place around him.

---

"Damnit, Sandburg," Jake groused. "How'd you make your arm bleed again?"

"It's not like I like to bleed," Blair answered gruffly, but sounding shaky.

"Good news," Jake continued happily as he undid the cuff and allowed Blair to pull his arm back to his chest with a groan. "Jim took out Halstead for us."

"I don't believe you." Blair made a fist and worked small circles in the air to reestablish the blood flow to his hand before clasping his other forearm tightly.

"Really, he did. See?" Kesler said dumping the cash onto the bloodstained floor by the seat.

"You're insane," Blair stated weakly, too tired to play the game. "Why would he do that?"

"Because I am a master at manipulation. I set it up to look like Halstead killed you. And Jim fell for it."

"You're a wannabe," Blair slurred. "You can't fool Jim, and even if you did, he wouldn't kill anybody."

"Shut up," Kesler growled. "I can still kill you."

"And then you'll be alone. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it? Being alone?"

"Jake!" Jim's voice came from outside of the van. "You're surrounded. Come on out. Let Sandburg go."

"I told you so," Blair sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Get up," Jake ordered abruptly, pulling Blair up by his damaged arm, inducing an involuntary cry of pain. "I'll kill him, Ellison. Then we'll both be alone." He began to shake fiercely, his resolve to fight crumbling with his sanity. He pulled a gun from his jacket and cracked open the door, blindly firing one round out of it.

"You've got no way out, Jake. Give yourself up," Jim countered. "If you fight, you'll end up dead."

"And that's a bad thing?" Kesler wailed, pulling Blair into his chest. "Who would care?"

"I would," Blair said trying to pull away enough to see Jake's face. "Jim would, too. Don't do this, Jake. Please."

"They'll shoot me anyway."

"No they won't. We'll walk out together. They won't shoot me."

"I'm so tired, Chief," Jake said softly. He dumped the ammunition out of the gun into the floor of the van. "I want a military funeral. Ok?" he said locking eyes with Blair for the last time, never understanding in his own mind what went wrong.

"That's suicide, Jake. Don't do it!" Blair pleaded. As Jake opened the door, Blair threw his arms around the bigger man's neck, ignoring the pull as the wound once again opened and a steady stream of blood seeped through the already saturated dressing, large droplets falling all around.

Losing his bravado, Jake clutched Sandburg to his chest with one arm and waved the empty gun around with the other. He turned in circles under the bridge, taking in the huge police presence and firepower aimed at them. "I'll shoot him!" he barked. "I want a car! Right now!" He pulled Blair along, clearing the bridge and moving towards the black and whites that were parked down the road, blocking it off.

"They'll never let you leave with Sandburg," Jim shouted, popping up into view a few yards away, his empty hands up and away from his body. "Let him go, Jake. He never did anything to you. Take me instead."

"The gun is empty," Blair whispered, twisting in Jake's hold so that he could see Jim, knowing that Jim would hear him and understand. Before Jim could react, Blair felt the jar as the sniper's bullet passed through Jake's head, almost a full second before he heard the report of the rifle. The impact sent a spray of blood, bone, and brain in front of them, driving Jake forward, his massive frame crashing down on top of his hostage. Blair's head bounced off the pavement once and knocked him out, sparing him the gruesome scene.

---

Jim clutched his ears and fell to the pavement as the echo of the weapon firing bounced down the ravine. Lurching back to his feet, he shook off the ringing inside his head and sprinted to Blair. With a grunt he rolled the lifeless body off of his Guide and pulled him away from the mess and into his arms. "It's ok, Chief. I've got you," he promised as the rest of the task force moved in. He looked up at the bridge where the sniper lowered his rifle with a joyless expression on his face. It was an easy headshot, as Jake towered over his victim. Jim had heard the order to fire, he just didn't have time to respond to it.

---

Three men stood at the gravesite after the honor guard and the rest of the very small group of mourners, if in fact they could be called that, had disbanded. Blair awkwardly held the carefully folded flag tucked against his chest under the sling on his arm. As there had been no one else to receive it during the ceremony, he had stepped forward and accepted it. In a way, he felt that it was appropriate, as Jake, in his boundless insanity, had named him as a son. He slipped his shades on, patting Jim once on the back as he passed him and headed to the car.

"I'll be right there, Chief," Jim said.

"Take your time, man," Blair said somberly and walked away.

Halstead watched with mild amusement. "He's certainly into dramatics, isn't he?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Jim set his jaw and waited for an answer impatiently.

"I mean, he hardly knew Jake. I couldn't believe when he took the flag."

Jim sighed and turned to face his old friend. "Sandburg gets attached to people, Greg. You wouldn't really understand about that."

"There you go throwing rocks again, Jim," Halstead teased.

Jim shook his head. "I've changed."

"Have you? Can any of us ever really change after the things we've done in the name of our country?"

"Well you certainly haven't lost your killer instincts. If you weren't such a shark in the business world, you never would have been a target and this whole thing could have been avoided," Jim chastised. "Have you learned anything?"

Greg laughed. "Look who's talking. You let that kid mooch off of you, just like Jake. Except that this one moved in. What are you gonna do about it? Maybe I should have a little talk with him."

"I'm going to tell you like I told Kesler, don't fuck with Sandburg," Jim warned, pointing a finger in the startled man's face. He turned brusquely and followed where his Guide had gone.

Blair was sitting on the tailgate of the truck as Jim rounded the corner of the small gravel path that led to the parking area. His head was down and he shifted uncomfortably and rubbed the back of his head with his good arm.

"Head hurt?" Jim asked worriedly as he probed the spot under Sandburg's hand.

Blair jumped slightly. "Don't sneak up on me like that, man. It's not natural to walk on gravel and not make any noise," he complained.

"Sorry," Jim said with a gentle smile, moving his hand to rest on Blair's shoulder. "Old habits die hard."

"Where's Halstead?" Blair asked looking back towards the cemetery.

Jim shrugged. "Don't know. Don't really care."

Blair furrowed his brow and studied his friend intently. "I thought you liked him."

"I did."

"Did. As in past tense. What happened?"

"Don't analyze this, Chief. The guy's a jerk," Jim muttered.

"He said something that pissed you off, didn't he? You liked him fine ten minutes ago. What did he say?"

Jim grimaced and sat next to Blair on the tailgate, knowing that the persistent observer would eventually ferret the truth out of him. He was like a dog with a bone when he got wind of something that Jim didn't want to tell him. "He didn't like it that you accepted the flag from the honor guard," Jim finally hissed. "He thinks that you're using me," he added, getting it all out at once.

"No one else took it," Blair said, urgently pleading his case. "Jake may have been obnoxious, but one of his friends should have stepped forward. I knew you wouldn't because of what he did. And I waited to see if someone else was going to step forward, but no one did."

"I know, I know," Jim soothed. "You're preaching to the choir here. I'm glad you took it. Jake would have liked that. I think it was very appropriate, after all, Jake picked you to be his son in his own weird, psycho kind of way."

Blair nodded, but was clearly not appeased. "I don't use you. You're my best friend," he said softly after a few minutes of brooding.

"I know," Jim grinned, throwing an arm casually around Blair's shoulder. "Ditto. Come on. Let's go home and get you some aspirin."

The End