Disappearing2

"We were both drawn into it. Our older sister committed suicide when she was seventeen. She'd been living with anorexia for over a year prior to that. Or I should say we'd all been living with her anorexia. It has a tendency to effect the whole family."

"He wants to make you feel guilty for bringing him here. You're his roommate. You live together and work together. That makes you his family. Somewhere deep inside he knows that you're only trying to help him. But he has a lot of anger built up and he has to lash out at someone. Don't let it bother you that he's picked you to be his target. It only means that he considers you to be one of the most important people in his life. The closest family members always seem to bear the brunt of the anger."

"It is physical at this point. His body reacted to a sudden big meal in the same way he has trained it to react. His stomach isn't used to being normally full anymore. To him it feels like we made him eat an obscenely large amount of food. He couldn't hold it down and he didn't want to hold it down, so up it came. When we made it clear that he had no choice, that he was going to eat it and keep it down no matter how many times we had to do it, he made himself keep it down. Of course it made his stomach feel uncomfortable. He has been keeping it virtually empty for months. It's no longer accustomed to being stretched to accommodate a meal."

"We stick with a very controlled routine each day. As long as he cooperates he'll be allowed phone calls and evening visits. If he refuses to eat any meal, he'll drink a meal substitute and he'll lose either his phone privileges for the day or his evening visiting privileges, depending on what meal he refuses. You can call each day at seven to see if he's allowed visitors for that evening. We serve dinner at six so we know by then whether they've eaten or refused their meal."

"Yes, we'll do that twice a week in the evening. Blair is scheduled for Tuesdays and Fridays. It's essential that you come and that you be prepared to open up and speak freely. Blair's cooperation with the counseling is going to be highly dependant on his perception of your cooperation. If he thinks that you're not fully committed to this, he'll pull back as well and we won't be able to get to the root of the problem."

"What causes this kind of thing anyway? I don't understand it. Is he trying to kill himself?" Jim choked on that last sentence, not wanting to think about the possibility that his guide was so unhappy with life that he wanted to die.

"There can be different circumstances that set it off. Most anorexics are female, most of them in their teens and early twenties. A high proportion are high school or college students and a significant number have been known all of their lives as high achievers, honor students, even gifted. It often seems to be a feeling of failure, of not being able to live up to the expectations of others, sometimes a feeling of losing control of their own life, that leads into the eating disorder. When you think about it, eating is a very personal thing.

We each go through our days, usually without giving it much thought, deciding what and when we'll eat or drink. For many of our patients it seems they've felt that eating was the only aspect of their lives where they had any control left. In every other way they live up to the expectations of their families, their teachers, who ever is significant in their lives. It's all a matter of perception, but for whatever reason, they don't see themselves as being able to change anything that they're not happy with in their own lives. So, they control what they eat. Most of them are not at all overweight when they start. Some of them are slightly overweight. Our society's perception of normal in that regard is highly warped in the first place.

But it's not really about that so much as it's about control and a fear that something bad will happen if they lose that control. Then once they're caught in the anorexia they can't seem to get away from it. Most of them have a skewed perspective when they look at themselves in the mirror. You would think they'd see what we see when we look at them but they don't. Even the most emaciated anorexics will look in a mirror and see fat. That's why it's so hard to convince them to eat again."

"Not necessarily. Some anorexics never add bulimia to the mix. Some discover self-induced vomiting by accident. They lose control and eat what they see as a big meal or they go out in a situation where they have to eat or draw attention to themselves, then they feel too full and uncomfortable so they do what they have to relieve that feeling. If it doesn't bother them too much they continue to do it. Then there are others who are primarily bulemic. They don't starve themselves. For the most part they eat normally and only induce themselves to throw up after they binge. These can be the most difficult to treat. They aren't obvious at all. They can go years without being discovered, all the while doing extensive damage to their bodies from the repeated vomiting."

Jim drove home deep in thought; digesting the information that Dr. Morris had given him. He tried to apply it to Blair and found that much of it fit. But he wondered why Blair would think he didn't have control over his own life. He wondered if Blair felt like he was stuck with being Jim's guide. Maybe he didn't want to do it anymore.

He nodded and walked back down the hall to his room. He picked up the bag Jim had brought him and looked inside, pulling out a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a flannel shirt.

Once he was dressed he felt a bit better. Anyone was bound to feel more vulnerable when wearing a hospital gown. But that was one of the rules here. Everyone wore his or her hospital gown for morning weigh-in. After that they could wear whatever they wanted. He could deal with that.

He watched as the other patients gradually came in and sat down and he wondered what he was doing here. The youngest girl here was only twelve years old. There were several that were in their twenties and the rest were in their mid teens. He was the only male here and he was the oldest. It seemed no matter what he did in life or where he went he was always the different one. Even in this.

Breakfast was a scrambled egg, two pancakes, and a strip of bacon. He looked around the table and watched the others eat. Some of them ate quickly as if they just wanted to get it over with, as if it were a great chore. The girl sitting next to him ate slowly and savored every bite. She seemed oblivious to anything going on around her, concentrating only on the taste and textures of her food.

Blair wondered what would happen if he couldn't eat it all. He didn't want to eat the bacon. Why did they want to make him eat greasy meat? He still felt bad about having eaten the meatloaf the night before.

He picked up his fork and started on his scrambled egg. That he didn't mind eating. But the pancake's came already cut up and drenched in butter and syrup. He wouldn't have minded eating them if they'd been dry. But if he didn't eat them they would make him drink a can of Ensure, and then they wouldn't let him make any phone calls for the rest of the day. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe he didn't want to talk to anyone anyway.

"He doesn't want to get on the phone. I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison. If you're concerned I can have Dr. Morris call you, but from Blair's daily report for today I can tell you he had a very good day. He gained half a pound. All of his vital signs are good. His blood tests are still a bit off but that's to be expected at this point. But his attitude is marked off as being excellent for today, which means he was cooperative about eating and about his counseling sessions. It isn't unusual for our patients in the beginning to refuse visitors, especially our adult patients."

Jim turned off his cell phone with a weary sigh. He'd been waiting all day for it to be time to visit Blair. He'd been anxious to see for himself how his guide was doing. He was hoping Blair would be in a better mood tonight.

He took one last look over at the door to the clinic and started the truck. He knew if he tried he'd be able to pick out his guide's breathing through the walls of the building. But he knew if he did, he'd have trouble driving away at all.

He knew he could do it. He could get through the next couple of weeks and get himself out of here. If he kept up his performance this well, they'd probably let him out in two weeks.

Jim sat next to Blair at the round table in Dr. Morris' office. The doctor had sent them in when Jim had arrived, saying he'd be along in a few minutes. Jim hadn't seen his guide in two days, since the first evening he'd been here.

"So, Let's get started then," he said. "I know we've been talking a lot about your teenage years in our private sessions, Blair. I'd like you to tell Jim about your experience with anorexia during your first year of college. It might help him understand a little better how you feel now."

Blair nodded. "I didn't think I was anorexic but I guess I was. I guess I am. When I was sixteen I was in my first year of college. I wanted to fit in and I wanted my teachers to be happy with me. They all seemed to think I was some kind of genius just because I was starting college a little early. I had to work pretty hard to satisfy them."

"I had a scholarship but it didn't cover everything so I got a job at Pizza Hut to pay the extra expenses. Naomi sent me money when she could but sometimes it took a while to get to me. She was doing a lot of traveling that year. I guess with me busy at school she must have been feeling free to move around a lot."

"Yeah, yeah, I did. At first I stopped eating cause I needed a new book and I didn't have the money to buy it and eat too. So I skipped eating for a couple of days and it was a lot easier than I thought it would be and it made me feel kind of proud. I got my book and I found out I could do something that nobody else around me seemed to be able to do. I could go without eating."

"Actually it seemed to make me feel great at first. I had more energy than I ever had before. Everything I experienced seemed better, clearer, more acute, I guess. It wasn't until I'd been doing it for a while that I started feeling tired and worn out and then I started passing out whenever I moved too fast. It was almost the end of the spring semester and I didn't have any plans. I tried to get in on an expedition to South America for the summer but Professor Black took one look at me and said I was too skinny and he was afraid to take me. He said most of his students lost about ten pounds on the average expedition and I couldn't afford to do it. I was mad, really mad cause I needed to go on a trip. I needed to find someplace to be for the summer. I couldn't stay in the dorm room and I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Well, I thought she was in Germany at the time. That was where her last letter had come from. But about a week before school ended she showed up, along with her latest boyfriend. So I ended up going with them down to Santa Monica for the summer and it turned out to be one of the best summers of my life. Freddie was great. He taught me some karate. He let me lift his weights. He had a beach house and I spent the whole summer playing on the beach and getting strong. It was great."

Jim knew right away that his guide was lying. He glanced over at the doctor to see if he had noticed, but the doctor just sat there with the same expression of open tolerance.

Blair looked away and answered in a timid voice. "I think I wouldn't have lived very long. I had been thinking about taking an overdose of something. I knew enough people who could get me drugs. I was tired and I remember feeling like it would be a relief just to go to sleep and not have to worry about ever waking up again."

Jim tried to keep the shock out of his face. He might never have gotten to meet Blair. He might never have found his guide and partner. If Blair hadn't come into his life when he had, Jim didn't think he'd be alive right now himself. He'd have been convinced that he was losing his sanity and he knew how he'd have ultimately reacted to that. He would never have let himself end up in a hospital. He'd have put himself in dangerous situations and let himself get killed in the line of duty.

Jim tried to make eye contact with his guide. He could tell Blair was afraid that Jim's opinion of him would change because of this. He needed Blair to understand how much he cherished their friendship. He needed Blair to know that he only felt respect and appreciation for him.

"Now, we need to move on to something a little more difficult. It's always easier to look back on the past and analyze the actions we took." Dr. Morris said, "Now we need to decide how this relates to the present time. What is different about this time, Blair? And what is the same?"

"I didn't have anybody then who I thought needed me. Naomi never seemed to need me. In fact, most of the time I felt like I was in the way of her doing what she wanted to do. I mean, I know she loved me, but she didn't want to have a kid. I was an accident and I interfered with her plans for her life."

Jim glanced at the doctor, then, looked back at Blair. It was hard for him to talk about deep emotional things. His father had laughed at him and condemned him all too many times when he was a kid for wearing his heart on his sleeve. Between that and the army, Jim knew he'd become quite good at maintaining a stone face. But Blair needed to know. Blair needed to understand how Jim felt.

"Blair, I love you. You're closer than a brother. You're the best friend I could ever imagine having and I need you, not for what you can do for me, or any help you can give me. I need you because you make my life full when it used to be empty."

When the hug ended at least ten minutes later, Jim looked over to see that Dr. Morris had left them alone in the office. He guessed that meant their session was over for tonight.

Jim carried Blair's bags out to the truck and turned around to go back inside. Blair was having his last counseling session as an in-patient. When he came out of Dr. Morris' office he could walk directly out and get in the truck for the ride home. It had been just over two weeks since Jim had walked away leaving his distraught emaciated guide curled up in his bed in the room at the end of the hall.

Jim sat down in the family visiting room to wait. It was visiting time and several families were making use of the room to visit with their relatives. A girl in the corner had apparently just arrived that day. She was sitting defiantly in the chair kicking her bony legs back and forth against the coffee table in front of her. Her parents sat glumly next to her, one on each side, trying to get her to talk to them. She steeled her face and shook her head. Jim knew she was punishing them for bringing her here just like Blair had been punishing him that first night by refusing to allow him to visit.

Blair had come so far in just over two weeks time. He seemed much more like his old self. Of course, he still had a lot of weight to gain back, but he had already made a significant start in that direction, having gotten up to one hundred twenty-five pounds. The doctor had assured Jim that he should consider that to be remarkable progress.

They'd had four family counseling sessions together. In each one, Jim had come to understand Blair's point of view a little bit better. His guide had always been an over achiever in some aspects of his life, like in the area of academics and maturity level. He had spent his childhood in the midst of adults; very rarely spending any time with other kids his own age. When he did try to spend time with other kids, he seemed to always feel out of place. He found kids his own age to be silly and immature and older kids didn't want anything to do with him, calling him a brainchild or a genius boy.

Blair had spent a large part of his life feeling like he was constantly trying to live up to other people's ideas of who he was, trying to be a helpful son or a devoted student. It seemed he didn't feel like he knew himself, since he had spent so much time trying to be the person other people thought he was.

They had talked about how Blair could feel free to open up to Jim, to trust him with his thoughts. Jim had promised that he would do the same, that they could allow each other to know what each of them was feeling. Jim felt he had made a lot of progress just by opening up to Blair and telling him that he loved him, that he didn't just need him but that he appreciated him and cherished him, that he was the only family he needed or wanted.

Blair had said the same thing to him during the following session. He'd told Jim that he felt like he was finally at home since he'd been living with Jim and that his worst fear in life was that something would happen and he'd have to leave, that Jim would get tired of him.

They couldn't talk about any of the sentinel stuff in front of Dr. Morris but Jim figured they could talk about that when they got home. He wasn't afraid that Blair was going to die now.

His guide just needed a little help to feel better about himself, some reminders that he was a good person, that he was capable and needed and loved. He just needed a little support to help him re-discover himself.

"Now remember, both of you, if anything comes up, any questions, any problems, you call me. You have my beeper number. If I'm not here, don't hesitate to beep me. And I'll still be seeing Blair for two afternoons a week during the next two weeks. After that, we'll see."

As they walked out, a very thin young man walked by them toward the front door. He wore a grim expression and was followed by an older man and woman. Jim guessed them to be his parents. Blair stopped and watched them go inside.

Blair bounced beside the truck as Jim unlocked the door for him. Yes, Blair was going to be fine now. Jim smiled with relief as he closed the door and walked over to the driver's side. Blair was almost back to his old self. He was going to be just fine. They were going to be just fine.

Blair stood quietly in the bathroom in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the inside of the door. He had just gotten out of the shower and had glanced over as he was drying off. Now dry, he dropped the towel and gave his body a critical look.

He took his fingers and traced his ribs where they jutted out along his sides and chest. His shoulder's ached as he moved his arms and he remembered the doctor saying that was because he had lost some of the elasticity in his muscles. It would get better as he gained weight: if he gained weight.

He turned to his side and was pleased with the narrow space he occupied in the mirror. He could fit two or three of himself standing in a line. He rubbed his hand along the path of his flat stomach. His hipbones showed hard and square through his skin.

He slid his hands down along his thighs and squeezed the fat. This he could stand to lose, he thought. But he'd better just put up with it for a while until things settled down. He couldn't disappoint Jim. His sentinel wanted a healthy and happy guide. It was up to him to provide him with one.

He dressed slowly and hung up his towel, checking to make sure he was leaving the bathroom relatively clean. Then, he walked out to the table where Jim was just setting down their dinner. This was the first week that Blair wouldn't have to go to the clinic for an afternoon. He was being trusted to take care of himself. Sure, he still had to go to a counseling session twice a week and get weighed each time but other than that he was on his own. Well, on his own as much as he could be while living with a sentinel who was now closely attuned to his every move.

"You know that's not going to happen. The only reason you've been able to gain as fast as you have been is because your body was starving. The closer you get to your correct weight, the slower your weight gain will be until it settles at around one hundred-fifty pounds."

"We've discussed this before, Blair. You know you agreed that your correct adult weight in order for you to be healthy is at minimum one hundred-fifty. You need this weight to sustain a proper muscle mass and to feel well. I know you think you feel just fine right now, but you're not remembering what being healthy feels like. You feel better now than you did when you were starving, but you're still not back to your normal level of energy and health."

"Yeah, I've been working on it. Since I was in the hospital they gave my classes to a teaching assistant to finish the rest of the semester. So, I've been able to concentrate on my paper and helping Jim at the station."

What do you think? Blair thought, of course I have a problem with it. They didn't even ask me about it, just took them and the money that goes with them and gave them to a teaching assistant who isn't even majoring in Anthropology. I don't even know if I'll get any classes back for next semester and what am I going to do for money if I don't?

Jim walked into the loft and closed the door behind him, hanging his jacket on the hook and throwing his keys in the basket. He was home a little earlier than he'd told Blair. He was hoping they could go out for dinner. He was in a good mood. Blair had been doing so well since his hospital stay. He felt like they should celebrate.

He started to walk toward his guide's bedroom when he heard the sound coming from the bathroom. He stepped over to the door and listened. Damn! The sound of forceful vomiting was so loud he was surprised he hadn't noticed it as soon as he walked in the door. Now that he thought about it, the smell was pretty strong too.

It got very quiet on the other side of the door. Jim waited, trying to calm himself down. He reminded himself that this was an illness, that Blair wasn't doing this on purpose. He reminded himself that Dr. Morris had told him there would probably be setbacks along the way.

"Then what it is, Blair? Cause what I think is that you just finished puking out everything you've eaten today and that maybe you need to go back in the hospital before this gets out of hand again."

Jim stepped into the bathroom and looked closely at his guide. His face was flushed and sweaty and his eyes were drooping. Maybe he really was sick. He'd been doing so well. Why did this have to be a setback? Maybe he really had caught some bug that was bothering his stomach. Who's to say that someone with anorexia and bulimia couldn't get sick just like anybody else?

Blair listened to the sounds of Jim making tea for him. He really should feel guilty, but he was enjoying Jim's attention too much. He always felt so loved and appreciated when Jim took care of him like this. Naomi had never been much for loving care. Sure, she had fixed him soup a few times when he'd been sick but she'd been just as likely to continue on with her own plans as soon as she'd handed it to him.

He caught himself before he could fall asleep. He might not really be sick but he was really tired. He couldn't sleep yet, though. He didn't want to miss out on Jim bringing him tea. The sentinel would probably sit with him and they could talk. He'd tell Jim that he'd gained another two pounds. That would make him happy.

Blair lay flat on his back and moved his hands to slide over his stomach. Yeah, it was already feeling flatter than it had just this morning. He was okay. That two pounds all at once like that had scared him a little, but he was okay now.

He rolled to his side and pulled the covers up to his neck. He was cold and he was tired but at least he wasn't fat. He shivered under the blanket and let his eyes close. He'd just rest them a minute until Jim came back with his tea.

He must have picked up some kind of bug or something. He really didn't look well and just yesterday Jim remembered noticing how much healthier Blair had been looking lately. So, yeah, it must be just a virus that made him throw up.

He was giving Blair all the love and encouragement he could muster, just like the doctor had advised him. With his constant support he was sure Blair could get rid of this problem and get on with his life the way he was meant to.

They still hadn't really talked about the dissertation. They talked about the fake one at the doctor's office but they couldn't really talk about the sentinel thing in front of anyone, not even the psychiatrist who was trying to help his guide.

Jim felt they could trust Dr. Morris, but Blair insisted it wasn't safe to tell anybody about his sentinel abilities, especially a psychiatrist. So, Jim had gone along with him and acted like the dissertation on closed societies in a modern police department was his real interest.

Jim wanted to talk to Blair about his real paper. He wanted to find out how close he was to having it finished and if there was anything Jim could do to help him with it. Jim figured the sooner Blair got the doctorate done the sooner his guide could relax and not feel so stressed.

His plans of going out postponed, Jim decided to make some noodle soup for dinner. He'd let Blair sleep another hour or two and then wake him up and have him eat some soup. He hoped he'd be able to keep it down. He didn't want this virus to set his progress back.

Blair continued to gain a pound a week for three more weeks. He attended group-counseling sessions twice a week in the evenings and got to know the only other male patient at the eating disorders clinic.

His name was Robbie Montgomery and he was nineteen years old. He was in his second year of college at the University of Washington, Seattle campus. He was a little taller than Blair and currently at about the same weight. This was his second time as an in-patient here.

Blair liked Robbie. They seemed to have a lot in common, even the fact that they were a couple of over-achievers at school and had a lot of pressure there to perform well. Robbie was on a full scholarship just like Blair had gotten. Blair stopped in a couple of times to visit Robbie on evenings between group sessions. Robbie's parents lived over an hour's drive away so they didn't visit every night and Robbie seemed to appreciate having Blair come to see him.

Blair didn't really like coming back in to the hospital but he felt confident he would never be there as an in-patient again. He had everything under control now. He had made a compromise. He would gain just enough to get out from under the watchful eyes, to stop having to get weighed every week, then, he'd carefully inconspicuously lose about half of what he'd gained. Nobody would really notice since he wouldn't be getting weighed and he would feel better, more in control.

Blair walked in and sat down in the open chair next to Robbie. About half the group was not here yet and the doctor was out in the hall greeting each patient as she walked in.

"I get up in the middle of the night after the midnight bed check and I exercise, you know, running in place, sit-ups, knee bends, that kind of thing. That way I can eat everything they want me to eat but I won't gain too much weight, just enough to satisfy them and get out of here."

Blair nodded. "I guess so." He was a little worried about Robbie. He looked really thin and kind of sick, way too pale. He wished he'd let himself gain a few pounds just to be on the safe side.

Blair finished his last group session later that week. He walked out to join Jim at the truck and smiled. He was glad the sessions at the hospital were over with. Now he just had to keep going to one private session once a week. He was going back to Dr. Julia Morris to continue those sessions. Her brother was more of a crisis intervention specialist. When he felt you were firmly on your way to recovery, he sent you to continue therapy with her.

Blair was fine with seeing that Dr. Morris. He'd have no trouble conning her. The only problem was that damn scale in her office. He was sure she'd be expecting him to get weighed every week.

He was up to one thirty six as of his last weigh in. He wasn't going to allow himself to gain anymore. He was already feeling kind of fat again and he didn't like that feeling at all.

He pulled them out and looked at them before slipping them back into their hiding place. He was glad they had never been discovered. That would give him four pounds leeway on the scale. He wouldn't have to worry for at least two weeks.

He caught Blair in the bathroom on the records floor again. He had seen him slip out while Jim was otherwise occupied so he'd followed. He knew enough about anorexia and bulimia that he didn't believe in miraculous cures. Jim didn't know any better. He believed that Blair was fine, well on his way back to his normal weight, problem solved, over and done with. That was just how Jim Ellison's mind worked. You see a problem, you deal with it, and you correct it. Then you get back to normal and you forget about it.

But Joel had seen what his niece had put his sister and her husband through. He had watched as they had slowly fallen apart as a family trying to deal with the devastation as Lily had slowly wilted. He had been caught up in their enthusiasm as they had seen her getting better and he had relaxed with them, thinking the problem had been dealt with and that Lily would be fine.

Then he had watched again as the fourteen year old had slipped away in a relapse, getting thinner and thinner, weaker and weaker, as she starved herself and exercised herself to death. He had been there the day she had been rushed to the hospital with an irregular heartbeat. The child had suffered a heart attack and almost died.

But even that didn't faze her. Even that didn't stop her destructive behavior. And two months later, Joel had been there again, rushing to the hospital to learn that Lily had died, that her body had simply been unable to take the strain even one day longer. Her heart had just given out and she had fallen over and died.

So, he'd been keeping an eye on Blair Sandburg. He was paying attention even if no one else was, even if no one else realized they needed to. And he had noticed when Blair had looked about furtively, checking to see if anyone was looking, before steeling away down the stairwell. And he knew that the police observer had just come back from lunch with Jim and Simon only a few minutes before. So he had followed Blair down to the next floor below. And he had hurried into the bathroom, hoping to stop him. But he had been a few moments too late.

Joel almost shrank back from the look he was getting from Blair. He'd never seen Sandburg with such a cold hard expression. He looked like he had been taking lessons from Ellison. But that look didn't transfer well. It didn't seem right on Blair's face. It didn't seem right at all.

Joel brushed his hands over his face. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't just let Blair keep throwing up. He needed to make sure it didn't continue. But if he told Jim, Blair would never trust him again. He looked at Blair.

"What it means Blair, is that I'm going to be paying attention to you because you need someone to pay attention to you. And if I see any reason to believe you're putting yourself in danger, I'll let Jim know that he needs to help you before it's too late. I'm not going to stand by and let you kill yourself."

Blair walked into the eating disorders clinic and down to Robbie's room. He had been put in the same room that Blair had occupied during his time here. At first Blair had been a little squeamish about visiting him in this room. It had been three weeks now since he'd been back here as a patient, five since he'd been residing in this room. But he still remembered how lost he'd felt that first night when Jim had left him here and how lonely he'd been every night he'd spent.

At first he'd gotten Robbie to go to the family visiting room when he'd visited, but it had quickly become apparent that spending time in the big oversized living room with the other patients enjoying visits from their parents and other family members made Robbie sad.

His parents didn't visit very often, using the excuse of living over an hour away. Even as insecure as Blair often felt, he knew that Jim would have traveled as far as necessary to visit him if the eating disorders clinic didn't happen to be so close to their home.

Robbie slid slowly off the bed and walked over to his bag sitting on the table. He pulled out a brown paper bag and walked back to Blair; opening the bag to show him it's contents.

The next morning Blair had an appointment with Dr. Morris. It was his weekly weigh-in appointment and he knew he had lost more weight again this week. He'd managed to cover for it the previous two weeks by adding more and more weights.

He wished he had a scale at home so he could try it out and be sure that the scale at the doctor's office wouldn't show any of the loss. He was okay if it didn't show a gain. She was at a point now where she didn't require him to gain every week, as long as he didn't lose. She had been pleased with his progress. As far as she knew, he was up to one hundred-thirty pounds, only twenty pounds from his goal weight of one-fifty. She was willing to allow the rest of the gain to take several months. Just as in weight loss, the last ten pounds or so was always the slowest.

Blair knew he really only weighed around one twenty. He had checked on his office scale right before he'd gone to visit Robbie the night before. That meant he had to have ten pounds worth of weights on him before he could get on the scale for Dr. Morris. He didn't know what would happen if he showed a weight loss and he didn't want to find out. Jim would be so disappointed in him. He couldn't allow that.

He listened to make sure that Jim was still on the phone and hopefully would be occupied for a few minutes. They weren't going in together this morning since Blair had his counseling session first and then wanted to get some work done at school before joining Jim at the station in the afternoon. He pulled the box of weights out from under his bed. He'd have to wear a pretty baggy pair of pants in order to hide this many weights under them. He briefly thought about Robbie's solution to this problem. He didn't think he'd ever be able to do that. He might be able to swallow the weights and throw them up after the weigh-in, although he thought they must give him a pretty bad stomachache. But to push those weights up inside his rectum: that seemed like it would hurt, even with the tube of Vaseline Robbie was apparently using. The thought of doing that made him cringe.

He pulled out a baggy pair of black jeans, two t-shirts and a flannel shirt and lined them up on the bed. Then he started affixing ankle weights around each ankle, starting at the bottom and working his way up each leg. Each ankle weight was equal to two pounds so he had to strap two on one leg and three on the other just to come out even on the scale. He put three on each leg just to make sure.

There were four more weights left in the box for future use when he slipped the box back under the bed. He sat down and started pulling on his jeans. Both legs were half pulled up and he was standing to pull them the rest of the way up when his bedroom door suddenly opened without warning.

Jim hung up the phone quietly and turned toward Blair's room, stealing himself for the coming conversation. This wasn't going to be easy. He knew Blair had gotten to be friends with Robbie Montgomery over the past few weeks. In spite of the difference in their ages they had seemed to have a lot in common. Blair had been visiting him almost every other evening. He hoped this news wouldn't hurt Blair's progress. He'd been doing really well according to Dr. Morris.

Well, might as well get it over with. He stepped up and pushed the bedroom door open, taking a step in before the sight before him filtered into his brain and he almost fell over with the sudden shock that surged through him.

The first thing that drew Jim's attention was his guide's rib cage, which showed clearly through the skin covering his chest. Each bone could be traced through the skin. Under the ribs Blair's stomach was concave. Most of the hair on his chest had fallen out and his skin looked dry and brittle.

Jim nodded. "We have to go take a look at the scene. Since Robbie was found dead, it has to be treated as a possible homicide until the autopsy is done to determine cause of death. Dr. Morris could just sign off on it but he refused to do it. He thought Robbie was on his way to recovery. He wants the autopsy done. He wants to know what went wrong."

Blair slid reluctantly out of the truck, holding onto the door while a moment of dizziness passed. By the time Jim had walked around from his side of the truck, Blair was ready to fall in step behind him. He could feel himself shaking with nervousness as they approached the entrance to the eating disorders clinic.

Jim held the door open and stepped back, gesturing for Blair to enter first. His sentinel was watching him with a worried look on his face. Blair gave him what he thought was a reassuring smile. He had a bad feeling that Jim was going to escort him to therapy today. He had a bad feeling that he was going to demand Dr. Morris have him re-admitted to the clinic. He had a bad feeling that told him he should have stayed in bed and ignored the whole world today.

The hallway to Robbie's room seemed longer today than it had just last night. There was a flurry of activity in the hallway by the door. Forensic technicians ducked in and out of the room, gathering their collected specimens in cases set up in the hallway.

Blair followed Jim through the doorway, his eyes going immediately to the bed. No body. Blair looked back toward Jim to see him headed toward the door to the bathroom. The forensics and Medical Examiner techs moved out of the way to allow Jim access.

Blair stood in the doorway and looked in as Jim moved to the other side of the body and kneeled to have a closer look. Robbie was lying naked on the floor, hair still damp from a shower, a wet towel on the floor by his side. He was curled sideways, almost as if he had chosen to lie down and take a nap, his legs pulled up, knees bent in front of him, one arm curled beneath him, the other draped over his back as if reaching to scratch an itch on his butt.

Blair found his eyes drifting down the body, down from the hand, down to the buttocks of the boy he had talked with just the night before. The tube of Vaseline was lying on the floor, lid missing. The brown paper bag that Robbie had shown him was lying empty by his side.

Blair watched as Jim puzzled over the items, obviously wondering if they were evidence, if they had anything to do with Robbie's death. Blair watched as his sentinel's eyes scanned the skeletal body. Jim kept glancing up at him standing there in the doorway, then back to look at the body on the floor. Blair wondered if he was checking on his guide to see how he was handling the situation or comparing the body to the one he had just seen in Blair's bedroom.

Robbie was much thinner than him, Blair knew. Robbie was a little taller than him but he had weighed about the same. They had remarked on it when they'd first met. Blair had thought, even then, how much thinner Robbie was than he'd ever been. He'd been sort of jealous at first.

Now, seeing Robbie's body up close, naked and lifeless on the bathroom floor, it was painfully obvious how emaciated Robbie had gotten. Instead of making progress he'd been slowly withering away. And somehow, with his little tricks, he'd been able to make them think he was working with the program, that he was getting better, that he was ready to go home.

Blair looked up at Jim, wondering if he should tell him about Robbie's trick, the one he'd shown him the night before. But if he told him, Jim would wonder why he hadn't told the doctor, why he hadn't informed on his friend for his own good.

Blair thought back to the night before when Robbie had proudly bragged to him about his latest trick and Blair remembered feeling shocked at first. But after the brief moment of shock had faded, all he had felt was envy. He'd been amazed, that Robbie had figured out so many ways to beat the system, to keep his control when all around him were trying to take it away from him.

And Blair had felt embarrassed a bit that he had let them take control away from him, even if just for a little while. True, he'd gotten it back once he'd finished conning them and cooperating just enough to get out from under the watchful eyes. But he'd never held onto control of his life like Robbie had.

Robbie's face was frozen in a pained grimace. Blair wondered if he was happy now. Suddenly everything he'd felt proud about seemed wrong. Robbie had controlled his own life right into his grave and Blair had stood by watching him and following his example. Maybe some people shouldn't have control over their own lives.

Jim stood and motioned him out of the room. Blair felt himself guided into the family visiting room and pushed down to have a seat on one of the couches. He shook himself out of the daze he was drifting in and looked around. Jim was standing in front of him, just watching him.

He felt like a bug pinned to a display board. And here, fellow scientists, we have the rare Sandburg species, an offshoot of the earthworm. They traditionally burrow under the dirt and conceal themselves from any kind of scrutiny. This particular specimen has been hiding under several layers of flannel, but we have managed to strip him naked to display here so that you can all see his total lack of control over his own life.

Suddenly the voice of a woman screaming filled the room and Blair looked up to see Dr. Morris walking Robbie's mother in to sit down on the other side of the room. Her screams quickly died down into wrenching sobs. He looked at her and watched as her whole body shook in anguish. Robbie's father trailed in a moment later, face the color of white chalk.

Blair locked eyes with Mr. Montgomery and cringed from the anger he felt radiating from the man. He should have ratted on Robbie. He should have told them about all the little secret tricks. He should have told them that he wasn't really getting better, just getting better at concealing the truth.

"It won't happen, Jim. It won't happen." Blair tried to smile reassuringly but Jim just screwed his face up into a tightly controlled grimace in his effort not to give into tears. Blair knew how much Jim prided himself on his emotional control. He'd always wished he could be more like that. But now Jim seemed to be having a hard time 'checking his emotions at the door'. And that scared Blair more than anything.

"Jim, can't you see the difference? Robbie was much worse off than me. He must have weighed at least twenty or thirty pounds less than I did even at my worst. And I'm better now. I've gained weight, maybe not as much as I'm supposed to yet, but some."

Jim looked at Blair in shock. Blair had never seen an expression that said incredulity more so than Jim's did at that moment. It confused him. What was Jim having trouble believing.

Robbie weighed more than him? No way! Robbie looked terrible. He looked like a walking skeleton. There was no way he looked that bad. He'd gained weight. He looked better. He looked fine.

Jim leaned over and pulled Blair into a hug. Blair clung to the warmth and steadiness of the strong arms that encircled him. Jim was wrong. He had to be wrong. He knew he didn't look anything like Robbie. But Jim wouldn't lie to him. Jim wouldn't tell him that if it wasn't true, even if it were to try to get him to eat. Jim wouldn't lie to him. But what he said couldn't be true.

Jim walked into Dr. Julia Morris' office with his arm around Blair. In spite of all that had happened, they were on time for his scheduled appointment. Dr. Morris was standing in the outer office when they walked in. She looked like she'd been waiting for them.

"Well, Blair, are you ready to get on the scale or would you rather talk first? I know Robbie's death must have upset you. My brother told me you'd been visiting him at the clinic."

"Blair, you know you lost more weight. How can you deny it?" Jim looked at the doctor. "How can he not see how bad he looks? He just told me that Robbie looked much worse than he does."

"Jim, a warped self perception is one of the symptoms of anorexia. I'm sure Blair believes what he's saying." She turned to Blair. "Blair, I think the scale doesn't lie. How about you get on it for us now and we'll see how you're doing?"

Jim felt his tears welling up and allowed them to fall down his face. He looked at Blair, waiting, praying that his partner would listen to him. He knew that if he searched his guide, he would fine something heavy, something that was adding weight to fool the scale.

He glanced at Dr. Morris. She seemed to sense that something important was happening here. She stood to one side patiently watching Blair, as he seemed to agonize over his decision.

Finally, Blair pulled away from Jim and stepped off the scale. Jim felt his heart drop, thinking he was losing his guide. This would be the moment he looked back on for the rest of his life as the moment Blair had taken the last step toward impending death.

Blair looked up at the doctor and nodded. "I was wrong. I thought I was in this alone. I thought it was my problem and I could handle it. I thought it was a game. Robbie did too and now Robbie's dead. But Robbie didn't have anybody to save him from himself."

Blair followed Jim into the morgue. Dan Wolfe had called them down here to see something. He wouldn't say what it was on the phone but it had something to do with the Robbie Montgomery case. Blair knew what it was about.

Blair looked down at the table and cringed at the sight of the lead weights all strung together with plastic twine. There were ten of them, fishing weights, Robbie had said, each looking like a giant oblong marble made of metal, each weighing a pound.

"Cause of death was heart failure. There was evidence of previous damage to the heart. Most likely the added stress of additional weight loss and maybe even the trauma of pushing these things up into his rectum added just enough strain to throw him over the edge and cause the heart attack. He had scarring and fresh tears in the rectum and his stomach lining and esophagus were in bad shape, most likely from repeated vomiting, but none of that caused his death. It must have been pretty uncomfortable though."

Blair cut him off. "Jim, Robbie knew all the tricks. He was good at tricks. I felt bad about not being honest with you. I couldn't help Robbie because I was buying in to what he was doing. I understood how he felt because I felt that way too. But I don't anymore."

"You did. You were there all along wanting to help me, wanting to stop my self- destruct cycle, but I couldn't see it. I couldn't let you help me. I couldn't admit that I needed help."

It had been a week since Blair had taken him into interrogation room three to have a talk with him, and while being relieved that Jim's young partner was finally admitting to having a problem and pledging himself to deal with it, Joel had still resolved to keep a close watch.

He knew how anorexics and bulimics frequently had setbacks. He knew that eating disorders tended to create sneaky, conniving patients. And even though he had seen that Jim was finally paying attention to Blair, he wasn't sure that the detective truly understood the complexities of the condition. So, he felt compelled to keep his own guard on Blair.

Today, reminded him of another day in the not so distant past. There had been another food run to the deli across the street. Jim had gotten his usual roast beef and bag of chips. Joel had watched as Blair had pulled the food out of the bag and set it on the desk in front of his partner.

Blair kept smiling at Joel as he pulled a salad out of the bag. Joel started to look away in disappointment. He didn't want to sit here and watch Blair munch on dry lettuce leaves again.

But as he began to turn away, Blair waved a hand at him. After catching his attention, a smiling police observer reached back into the bag and pulled out a sandwich. He sat it down in front of his salad and giving Joel another smile, proceeded to open it and begin eating.

A few minutes later he glanced over and saw that Jim had dropped a handful of chips onto Blair's open sandwich wrapper and they were both talking and laughing over their shared meal.

Blair ate everything his sentinel put in front of him. Every bite he took, he heard a voice inside him screaming at him that he was losing control. But he knew now that his sentinel loved him and was taking care of him and he knew that whatever happened in his future, as long as he had Jim in his life, he'd be okay.

And every day the voice that was screaming at him got fainter and fainter until it was just a whisper. He knew it would never go completely away but he could deal with a whisper.

Jim had to fight the habits he had learned over his lifetime, the ones that told him that real men don't show their emotions. They don't cry and they don't confess their love or need of anyone else.

It was a struggle for him to open up like that, but it was what Blair needed. His guide called him a sentinel. And it was true that his senses were all enhanced. But it didn't make him any more sensitive when it came to other people's emotions. If it did, maybe Blair wouldn't have gotten as sick as he had.

But he'd revealed himself, his deeply buried feelings, to his roommate. He'd allowed Blair to see the love for him and the need for him to be in his life. And once Blair had seen that, he'd let his own love show through and he'd begun to trust Jim.

They'd discussed the things in life that scared Blair and it turned out to be the same things that scared Jim. The most prominent fear was that the dissertation would come between them. Blair thought that once it was done Jim wouldn't want him around anymore. Jim thought that once it was done, Blair wouldn't want to stick around anymore.

Blair changed the subject of his dissertation to the closed societies within paramilitary organizations like city police departments. It would take him a little longer to get it finished but with the information he'd already gathered working with Jim all this time, he was more than halfway done already.

Jim made sure that Blair ate three meals every day and that he got enough protein in his diet and slowly the pounds were coming back. But most importantly, Jim knew that Blair wasn't lying or hiding anything. Even when he felt like he wanted to stop eating, he was talking to Jim about it and together they were working out the problems.

It had always been hard for Jim to let his emotions show. His father had taught him that showing your emotions made you look weak. Now he was beginning to realize that it took an inner strength to be able to admit that you depended on someone, that you loved someone. It gave them the power to hurt you.

It was still difficult for him to tell Blair he loved him and he needed him in his life, but his guide needed a lot of reassurance and he couldn't withhold it. And every day it seemed to get easier to say the words his partner needed to hear. In fact, when Blair gave him the same exact words, he knew he'd do anything to keep hearing them.

Blair stood on the scale in his office on campus and looked at the numbers. He was up to one hundred thirty two pounds. He stood there and looked at it for a few minutes, feeling the old familiar fear rise up inside.

He stepped off the scale and looked at the uneaten lunch on his desk. It was a ham and cheese sandwich and an apple. He had watched Jim pack it for him that morning as they'd stood in the kitchen having coffee and discussing their plans for the day. Jim had handed him the brown paper bag with his lunch in it as he'd walked out the door.

Then he sat down at his desk and took a sip of water from his spring water bottle. As he set the water bottle back down, he noticed the framed picture that held an honored place on the corner of his desk. It was a picture of himself with Jim. They'd been on a camping trip with Simon and the Captain had caught them in a picture as they sat together by the side of the campfire toasting marshmallows on sticks. It was a moment out of time that reminded Blair of happy memories.