But it could also be open to interpretation. Had I been born with some particular genetic inclination, that for want of a better label we had called Guide skills? Additionally, had that genetic niche been exclusively aimed to join up with a specific genetic counterpart enhanced individual, i.e. Sentinel.

If so, why were Jim and I different ages? If there were some symbiotic co-dependency between such genetic pairs, then wouldn't it make sense that they should be born as pairs?

Or if not, shouldn't the Guide be born first. I have to admit I would have been a lot more comfortable in my role if I had had a lot more years of preparation before having to be responsible for the mental and physical health of a person who was strong and stubborn but could be laid low by cold medication! And maybe Jim would have listened to me more if I had been older and more experienced then he.

Well, maybe not though. So far the two Sentinels I'd had experience with had been extremely alpha in nature, aggressive, dominant and action oriented. Maybe the Guide being born later minimized dominance hassles. The youngest of the pair would naturally defer to the older, more experienced member of the team. Also the Sentinel's had a major league protective streak. Being born earlier would allow the Sentinel to be more mature, experienced and physically developed, by the time the Guide was born. Making the Sentinel more able to protect the essential other half of the pair.

After the mess where Jim had remembered the murder of his Coach and mentor, Bud, he had told me he first realized he had really acute senses in the September of the year before. The same month and year I had been born? Was there really a connection?

What if the link wasn't from birth? Was it possible that the 'scent' that Jim described as 'Guide' scent was in fact triggered by exposure to a Sentinel? Maybe there was indeed a genetic component to the Guide, but maybe it was latent and only the meeting of two mutually compatible individuals allowed the Guide nature to manifest, triggering the tell tale scent Jim had noted. That would account for what he considered as the scent being specific to him. Maybe when exposed to a compatible Sentinel, someone with the Guide gene instantly attuned their scent to that of the compatible match.

Attuned their scent? Humans can't do that Sandburg. Get a grip. But then I know a lot of people who didn't think a guy could see, smell, taste, feel and hear better than most hawks!

I am a scientist in terra incognito man. But I'm also supposed to be a Shaman, hell I've had visions and dealt with some stuff that just did not show up in ANY encyclopedia. But though I haven't yet figured out exactly what it was that Incacha passed on to me that terrible day in the loft, I have absolute faith that someday I will. I've even died and lived to tell about it! So both the academic and the spiritual side of me had to admit that I have seen and experienced way too much to deny that really ANYTHING is possible.

So it was possible that I was somehow marked with a signature scent that had announced my viability as a Sentinel's Guide. I really would have to do some research, maybe some tests! Oppps, needed to hold off on plans until we were both off this damn mountain. I wanted to understand everything about the Sentinel gift, but my first responsibility was to be Jim's Guide and friend.

It took a moment to refocus on the here and now, on Jim's impassioned statement. This was the second time this trip that Jim has opened up about things that normally he would shy away from thinking about, much less talking about. Though a part of me still was alarmed by this change, most of me was just warmed by the deep connection he was confirming. I knew how much Jim meant to me, but it was mind-blowing to consider he felt that close in return. WOW!

I looked up into his quiet gaze. Jim's eyes were focused on me with the intensity that only a Sentinel can bring to bear. I saw his eyes concentrate on my features as if memorizing each detail. Then he looked beyond me, deep in thought, considering some memory or idea. But before I could query him on what he was thinking his head tilted slightly in a posture distinctly familiar to me.

Remaining quiet to allow him to listen without distraction, I still laid my hand on his shoulder to anchor his senses. He continued to listen for a few more minutes and then his face broke into a feral grin.

“Come on Chief.” He said softly and suddenly before I knew it he had glided to his feet and passed through the opening in the cave. Totally unprepared it took me a moment to untangle my legs and follow. I found him just beyond the entrance, standing statue like. His gaze fixed up the mountain.

“Three points to you Chief.” He shook his head in bemusement. “Your bunny trick took out two snow sleds and one of the opposition.”

Unable to figure what he meant my only response was “huh?” as I looked up the snow-covered landscape. When he turned to face me the look in his eyes held a strong trace of the instinctual Sentinel that had overwhelmed Jim earlier. A predator more than willing to put down any challenger.
Then he blinked and I saw his expression change to chagrin, eyes betraying a desire to call back his words. Seeing the questions on my face he glanced back uphill and then placed a firm hand on my shoulder. It wasn't hard to read that he considered lying, but he knew I would see through his amateur efforts so easily that it would just be a waste of time. Truth was his way. Blunt truth.

“The trackers on the sleds followed the tracer signal across what seemed to be a harmless snow covered valley. The other Sentinel bailed in time, but lost his sled.” He said it gently, as if expecting some kind of negative reaction from me.

Backtracking through my memory I tried to think of what he could be talking about, why he was worried. And then I recalled my own misinterpretation of a snowy flat expanse. As realization hit I breathed out an astonished “the lake!!” He nodded shortly, his eyes holding mine. And suddenly I visualized it all. The heavy ski bikes soaring across that deceptive white expanse stretched before them. The almost instant starring of fracture lines in all directions on the too thin ice. The crackling sounds of stress and friction obliterated by the roar of the powerful engines.

I knew from terrible experience how frail areas of that lake ice where. The vehicles might have momentarily outrun the destruction caused by their weight and powerful thrust, but instead of a reprieve, the delay would have been a death sentence. If the ice had given out at first contact the riders would have still been in shallow water. They would have had a chance. But the vehicles must have instead sped well out onto the icy platform before the fatigued frozen covering buckled and vanished beneath them. Metal ski sleds, heavily clothed men probably wrapped in weighty weapons would have sunk like anchors. In my oh so vivid imagination I could almost see the events unfold. Dead. My stupid trick had killed two men; no Jim had said only one casualty. But it made no difference, I'd caused a man's death, drowned… drowned in cold merciless water. Unbidden those thoughts collided with a memory, water, cold, no air, drowning…drowning… Oh God!

Suddenly I was cold, so very cold. A spreading bitter ice that permeated bone and muscle and soul with equal ease.

I barely noticed the tears that traced frozen tracks down my face. What had I done? God I'd caused a man to drown. Drowned! I of all people knew the terrible horror of drowning. The desperate struggles to somehow find air, the fight to hold in breath one more second, survive one more moment. The hopeless despair as the disobedient body pried open lips to release that last little gulp of oxygen and permit the final rush of brackish fluid to replace it. The acid burning pain, the stabbing spasm, the cold dark roaring over all the light.

There was no air, wheezing breaths whistled harshly in and out as I remembered THAT day. I felt suffocated, and then the stress triggered my struggling lungs to seize, and I began to cough. Each explosive expiration felt like my lungs would go inside out and my heart pounded fast and hard in my burning chest. I couldn't stop shaking and coughing. Frozen in the darkness of my personal nightmare. Irrational fear and despair convinced me I was going to die.

But as my world seemed to spiral into a dark void I felt sensation return with the realization that I was being pulled forward into a hug. More and more I became aware of the light around me attracting me back to the here and now. Almost instantly my heart started to calm. As my body's demands decreased my coughing spell also eased.

“You're okay. Breath buddy. Come on. Damn! I'm sorry Chief, I should have kept my mouth shut.” I heard Jim talking softly right by my ear. I couldn't help but notice he was talking in what he had jokingly referred to as 'guidese'. Not to long ago he had told me that when he zoned and heard me calling him back, that my tone, language and delivery where different from my routine voice. Obviously he'd paid close attention to the technique, because there was no ignoring the subtle pull of his voice even through the terror that seemed to have gobbled me down whole.

A last couple of honking coughs punched out of me before I could finally pull in first one, than another uninterrupted wheezing breaths. Able to draw in air at last, the panic that had triggered the flashback eased enough for me to manage some self-control.

It took a second to understand the encompassing brown that filled my vision was because I was held up against Jim's chest and I was eye level with the collar of his heavy leather coat. Recalled to the present I fought down the anguish I felt. I had been responsible indirectly for taking a life, by a means I would not wish, literally, on my worst enemy.

But as much as it tore at me to accept that fact, I was also responsible for doing my best to keep my partner safe. The man had died because he was up here hunting a man who I would do pretty much anything to protect. Indirectly or directly, did that include killing? As I considered that question I now knew sadly that it did. When had I turned that corner? When had I begun to assign various degrees of value to life?? When I was young I had been convinced that I would rather die than take another persons life, any other person. But I realized that I had indeed changed. To protect Jim, or Naomi, or Simon and the guys, I was and am capable of crossing that line. Lord.

As if reading my mind I heard Jim's voice descend even further to a gentle whisper. “You didn't kill him, Chief. That guy was here to kill us and bad luck stepped in and punched his ticket.”

I rolled my face so that my forehead was pressed against Jim's coat, just above his heart. He was trying hard to convince me I was blameless, I knew that. But it wasn't just that I'd been responsible for a death, but how the man had died that tore at me.

“He drowned Jim. Because of my asinine idea a man drowned!” My voice climbed on the last word. I couldn't help it.

“Yeah, I know Chief. Shit I really wish it had been another way, any other way. I wish to hell he had been fried in prison. I know this is ripping you up buddy. But I have to tell you I'd happily drown the whole lot of them if it was the only way to get us out of here alive.” The arms wrapped around me tightened noticeably as he became increasingly angry.

Cautiously I took a deep breath, which wasn't easy, my lungs congestion had not been helped by the coughing fit. Pushing away from Jim I tilted up to look into his stony continence. There was no misreading his expression. The Sentinels need to protect guide and tribe meant no quarter expected or given. I remember a phrase Jim had once used when talking about his Black Ops days, 'terminate with prejudice.' To him there was no ethical dilemma connected to killing any of those men hunting us. As cop and Sentinel and friend his priority was our safety, he had no problem with the idea of putting down any of Kincaid's group to accomplish that end.

Looking into the feral commitment in his blue eye's I felt no condemnation for his willingness to kill, I now recognized within myself the reality; I would defend him also with lethal force if it were necessary.

A man was dead. His end had been in a manner I would never condemn any human being to. But I would not mourn the man, only the lose of a life. And even that would have to wait. Now was the time for survival.

Stepping away from Jim I forced myself to lock away the raging emotions. Later I hoped I would be able to meditate and maybe process all this, especially the realization about myself. But right now the present was enough of a challenge,

Even as I was pulling away I noticed Jim's stance stiffen as he tuned his senses back toward the summit. His telltale head tilt was all that separated his posture from a soldier at attention. When he seemed to stiffen I knew that his sharp focus had spiraled into a zone. Shaking off my creeping tiredness I extended a hand to rest on my partners rigid arm, and squeezed. Casting his senses out over this great a distance almost guaranteed a zone. But that was why a Sentinel needs his Guide.

It was like floating in a dark ocean, unable to discern up or down. Even as my hearing pulled me towards an insistent voice I realized that I had zoned. Damn. I was really on a roll. Lets see how many ways I can stress out my already ill partner.

Prior to working with me the teaching assistant had lived his philosophy of non-violence. He had believed all life was of value. The first time he had had to deal with a violent death had left him shaken and ill. Though he had gotten better at hiding his upset, I knew that each time he had been shown the inhumanity one human could visit on another had chipped away at his optimism and faith in his fellow man.

But one thing he had managed to hold tight to was his commitment to not taking another life. Repeatedly in hazardous situations he had refused to use deadly force, somehow out thinking his opponent and still coming out with his skin intact.

I should have known better. When my hearing had followed the engines of our pursuers up the mountain and heard the furious ranting of Kincaid and the circumstances of the loss of his two fast snow vehicles and one of his men I should have kept my mouth shut. I of all people knew how this would affect the compassionate man I called friend. The death alone was bad enough, but by drowning!

Shit, Sandburg still had nightmares about Alex and that damn fountain. Of course he didn't admit it to me usually. But though he could obfuscate with the best of them, his panicky heart rate had woken me on many a night to listen in despair as he muffled gasped denials and sniffles into a pillow.

But the part of me that was tuned 100% to keeping him safe had been extremely satisfied to have the 'enemy' denied his fastest vehicles and I had seen the death as one less danger to me and mine. I had spoken as a defender pleased with the unplanned strategic blow struck against the bad guys, not a man who knew his partner would blame himself for the drowning of another person, just as he had been drowned.

Then to top it off I had been lured away from his needs by a gunshot uphill, over focused on Kincaid's crowd and managed to zone.

Pressure increased on my forearm. As I came further back to myself I recognized his careful but firm grip. “Stay like this much longer Jim and you will be stuck here 'til spring man. It is freezing out here!” As I snapped the rest of the way back, unconsciously I sifting out all other stimuli and focused only on my partner. The timbre of his voice in 'Guide' mode, so soothing. His scent, so rich and comfortable. The bright, unwavering expression with eyes that seemed so innocent and too worldly both at once.

As soon as he saw my eyes blink and focus he tugged at my arm toward the cave entrance. “I don't know what you zoned on big guy, but lets discuss it inside please. It's getting colder than an igloo's basement here.” With my senses zeroed in on him I could see he was wracked with steady shivers. When I saw the sweat on his forehead I worried his fever was worsening. But then the increasing gusts of wind registered on my own senses. Even a non-enhanced person could tell that in just the few minutes we'd stood on the ledge that the temperature had dropped at least ten to fifteen degrees and the wind had really picked up.

I looked up at the sky, noting the feathered wispy clouds boiling by overhead. Smelled the tang of ozone. Watched the wall of heavier clouds tumbling over themselves as they approached from the North West.

I easily recognized all the signs from my Ranger recon training. A part of me dreaded what they heralded. But from a strategic viewpoint I reveled in the trouble it would cause our pursuers.

My mind had already begun settling on immediate plans. “Storms comin' Chief. Major front, major temperature drop.” I reported confidently. He turned to look at me and then nodded.

“That was one of the important responsibilities of the tribal Sentinel, warn of impending weather shifts.” He intoned with the voice of many years of lecturing. He turned his own eyes heavenward. “Do you like... sense any additional details, like expected duration, severity or the such? Or just that the weather is going to change for the worse?” Ah the glint of the scientist was back in those previously shocked eyes. He had obviously decided to store his recent pain away to deal with later.

“We're talking major blizzard here Darwin. And it's more what the army taught me then the Sentinel senses.” I saw a little disappointment wash over his deep blue eyes. “But my senses are definitely picking up on the storm also.” Instantly the thrill of discovery glowed again. I mentally sighed. I guess I should be grateful the kid didn't want to vivisect me to get every last germ of Sentinel information out of me. About a hundred questions could be seen crowding up behind his eyes, jockeying to be first out of his mouth.

“No time to talk just now.” I cut him off hurriedly. “We need to restock and batten down for a possible several days of complete white out.”

As if reading my mind he moved to the edge and began climbing down. “If the bad guys are up by the lake they're at least two hours away. We'll need all the wood we can get, more food would be nice, no way I can be of much use for that, how much time do you think we have before the worst gets here? Any way you can whip up more traps and…”

“Sandburg!” I barked with familiar fondness. “Yeah Jim?” Guileless expression, already thinking miles a minute. “Babble alert buddy. Take a deep breath and let me talk for a second.” I smiled as he grinned and nodded so enthusiastically that his woolen hat juggled forward over his eyebrows. But my smile hardened as he took the deep breath and immediately doubled over to heave out several deep coughs.

I started to pat him on the back, which my Medic training knew had no medical value, but from the viewpoint of comfort measures was priceless. After a couple of seconds he got his lungs under control and took some careful slow, shallower breaths.

“Listen Chief, we've got maybe three, four hours before the front hits. I'll go start getting some more supplies gathered, why don't you go get a fire started in the cave. We don't need to worry about Kincaid and his men seeing smoke in this wind and snow. And in a few hours they are going to be blind, immobilized, cold and miserable. We will be the last thing on their frozen little minds.”

As plans went I thought it sounded pretty good. But Sandburg didn't even pause as he ignored me and lowered himself off the ledge. As he dropped lightly into the snow that had gathered at the base of our temporary home, he began ticking off points on his gloved fingers. “First, two can gather more than one. Second, I can swing an axe still… you can't. Third, in all this endless whiteness you know there is a very high risk of you zoning. Fourth, right now I need to be doing something useful, not sitting alone in a cave thinking too much.” With a none to subtle glare at me he stomped toward the trees.

Great, I'd pissed him off again. One thing the two of us have in common, when we aren't feeling well we are touchy as hell. Shaking my head I quickly jumped into the cave, grabbed the axe and joined my partner.

The next three hours and twenty minutes were an exhausting blur. I quickly hiked off further around the curve of the cliff face and set as many snares as I could rig, then hurried back to Blair. He was ignoring small branches for me to collect and hump back to our home base. Instead he was attacking downed trees for their mid sized branches that would burn slow and steady. As soon as he had five or six separated from the trunks he would then hack them down to manageable lengths. We continued slogging away, collecting and trudging to the cliff wall.

All the time we worked the temperature continued to drop. I had to restrain myself from cold conking Sandburg and dragging him back to the cave. As he worked and labored his coughing became more and more frequent. Sentinel ears could hear the increasing gurgle of his lungs and wheeze of his breath. Sweat poured from him to freeze on eyebrows, collar and even in little ice sicles from his chin that he batted away impatiently each time he noticed.

I had tried to talk him into seeing reason. But he was obliviously in his stubborn mode. Another thing we had in common. By the third hour of steady labor he was slowing noticeably, and stumbling frequently. The last straw was when he swung the axe just as a coughing spell hit him, missed the chunk of wood he was chopping and almost amputated his foot.

Walking up behind him as he was tugging on the axe handle trying to pull the blade from the ground it had imbedded in, I use the expedient method of simply grabbing his back jacket collar and tugging backwards. So tired was he that he couldn't begin to catch his balance and simple fell flat on his back in the deepening snow. For a moment his eyes were wide with surprise then they narrowed to glare at me, “What the hell do you think you're doing?” He ground out through chattering teeth, as he struggled to coordinate his weakened limbs enough to get up.

Standing over him with my full six plus feet I returned his glare with interest. “I'm trying to keep you from killing yourself!” I couldn't keep the growl out of my voice. “Enough is enough. You are sick and getting sicker. You shouldn't even be out here in this cold and definitely not swinging around a damn axe.” He had struggled up into a sitting position and I bent to lean into his face.

“WE. ARE. DONE!” I poked my finger into his forehead with each word, daring the raging anger in those eyes to challenge my own fury. “I am going to go check the snares and you are going back to the cave, start a fire, and get warm.”

For a second we remained like that. Two furious sets of blue eyes refusing to give an inch. But then Sandburg's lungs betrayed him and cast the deciding vote by wrenching from him another series of coughs that sounded like he was going to expel a lung.

The effort and pain was so great that it had brought tears to the eyes that pivoted up to meet mine again. The heat in my gaze was immediately extinguished and with a thwarted huff I knelt in front of my best friend.

“Please Chief.” I reached out and squeezed his shoulder that was still rigid with anger. “Please. We've got enough wood for days, and at the rate you're driving yourself you'll be sick as a dog when it's time to get off this damn mountain.” Low blow there Ellison, I knew that Blair always worried about getting me hurt trying to protect him. Playing on that was not exactly according to Hoyle, but one thing about survival, if it worked, it was okay to do.

Sandburg seemed to deflate in front of me. The prideful anger in those eyes vanished and was replaced with a shamed guilt. I'd under estimated the impact of my low blow. With the shredding his emotions had had that morning, and the weakness his sickness added he suddenly saw himself as a burden to me.

Shaking my head in frustration at my own hopelessness in this sensitive, demonstrative stuff I leaned forward until both our foreheads touched. “I need you to get well, Chief. There is no one else I trust to watch my back like you.” I felt the tremors that vibrated his body, felt him pull himself up straight and saw his inexorable intent. He would not slow me down when it was time to move, if he burst his heart he would still manage to keep up.

He cautiously got to his feet, bent and wiggled the axe handle back and forth a couple of times and then lifted the tool and walked toward the cave. His too careful steps showing how much it was taking just to keep from swaying and falling.

I watched him reach the base of the cliff and stand for a moment unmoving. I wondered if he had the strength to climb the rope. But I held back, an offer to help right now would be unbearable to him. After a few more breaths I was relieved to see him gather the line into his hands and unsteadily haul himself up and over. With great effort and focused dignity he used a hand on the stone wall to help him stand again and stride straight into the cave.

I pulled together the remaining cut and gathered wood and slogged back and forth until it was all slung up onto the ledge.

By the time I was done the wind was almost at gale force and the snow flurries so thick that visibility was cut to about twenty feet. Recognizing that I was out of time I jogged rapidly to the sites I had set snares. The limited time available had convinced me to set many too close to each other. But I had still managed to catch three large rabbits and another pheasant. I had also snagged a young fox, white with his winter coat that had probably been attracted by the struggles of my snared game. He must have just gotten caught because those sharp teeth would quickly have freed him from my little jury-rigged snares. But I saved him the trouble and cautious of the steadily snapping jaws untangled him and set him free.

Heading back to the cave visibility had deteriorated to the point I couldn't see my gloved hand at the end of my arm. Not wanting to get lost in the confusion of the white out I simply kept my back to the wind and walked straight ahead with my arms extended before me. Soon enough I rammed into the stony expanse of the cliff face and keeping one hand on the wall I walked through the deepening drifts until I tripped over the stump I had tied the rope to at the base of our ledge.

It took almost more energy than I had to climb the rope and pull it up behind me. When I turned toward the cave I pulled up shocked. No entrance?? I faced an unmarred icy wall. As tired and cold as I was it took my sluggish brain a second to process the little inconsistencies enhanced eyes saw. Around the edges where the ledge and cave wall had been there were frozen puddles. Reaching out my hand I traced a faint line that proved to be the perimeter of an icy door. Parachute silk had been soaked and then hung over the crevice entrance to the cave. The harsh glacial wind had pushed the material into the shape of the crevice before flash freezing it. It was an ingenious way to both hide the crevice and create a wind barrier to the howling storm.

A couple of minutes later I was pushing past an obviously anxious Blair to the fireside. I felt frozen clean through and the warmth from the blaze was unbelievably delicious. I turned up my sense of touch to wallow in the sensation. “Great trick with the door Chief!” I murmured through chattering teeth.

I felt eyes on me and turned to see my partner, his face wane and pale. I also saw the worry in his expression. I'd been gone for almost two hours in the freezing, blinding cold and he of all people knew how easy such a monotone scene could trigger a zone. But he'd been sitting here in the warmth knowing that if I had zoned there wouldn't be a chance in hell of him finding me in this building blizzard, and there would have been zero chance of me surviving a zone in that bitter cold.

“I didn't use the senses.” I volunteered reassuringly. “I had no problems and took no chances.”
The response I expected was not the derisive snort I got. “Whatever man,” the Teaching Assistant sounded more like a student protestor from the sixties as he folded onto the floor by the fire.

“Hell Sandburg, would you make up your mind here!” I was tired and my temper as usual flared whenever things got confusing. “Carolyn didn't have these kind of mood swings when it was her friggin' time of the month. You P.M.S or something? Because I can't seem to do anything right here.” The sneer in my voice was undeniable. And even as I said it I regretted it.

That usually so expressive face that could be read easier than any book was now rigid in a continence that communicated nothing. Even his eyes were shuttered and unreadable. Bringing my icy gloves to my face I tried to rub the exhaustion and stress from my eyes. Plopping my catch beside the fire I folded down just across from the statue Sandburg had become.

“I'm sorry Chief,… Blair. That was uncalled for and untrue.” I said with as much sincerity as my tired mind could muster.

“No, it is true.” He responded in a flat inflectionless voice.
“No, it is not!” I growled back.
“Yes, it is.” Softer.
“NO, IT IS NOT!” I was snarling now.
“Yes, it is.” Sentinel soft.
“NO, IT ISN'T!” I roared.
“IS!” A little louder now.
“ISN'T!”
“IS, IS, IS!” A snicker.
“ISN'T, ISN'T, ISN'T!” I managed to choke out over gathering laughter.
“Mom always liked you best.” Whined a totally familiar and unSandburg voice.

I lost it entirely, flopping over as I bawled with laughter. Blair had once joined me to watch one of my video's of the Smother's Brother's and had not understood my enjoyment of their whiney repartee'. But he had had no difficulty at all mastering an uncanny mimicry of Tommy Smothers routine. He had a finally tuned ear for accents, and could imitate almost anyone. I could still remember an early conversation between us about 'twangs' and 'drawls'.

“Damn Chief,” I snorted as tears poured from my eyes, “One of these days!”

Across the fire I saw that though his face was still pale and wane, that spooky numbness was now replaced with that unquenchable sparkle that was so much a part of him.

“One of these days,” Jackie Gleason's voice filtered from his mouth, “To the moon Alice, to the moon!” And his hands made the trademark launching motion.

I leapt the fire in one move and had him on the ground as I pulled the one guaranteed Sandburg silencing weapon. “No Jim! Not that!” His voice climbed the scale as my hands burrowed under his coat and began to wriggle at his sides. Even through the flannel undershirt Sandburg was the most ticklish person in the world. “NO! Oh please man, stop!” Laughter turned the pleading into a hooted series of barks. “Stop,stop,stop”, snort, “stop, Please, man I'm gonna pee myself!” That stopped me.

“Ewwww.” I grimaced dramatically as I backed away and Blair climbed to his feet. His smile was huge as he shook his head and marched to the cave entrance. “Hardy har har, I said 'going to', not did!” He disappeared outside and I pointedly didn't listen in. Barely a couple of seconds later he dashed back in, tugging at his zipper and covered with snow.

He shook like a dog and through chattering teeth he mumbled out a shocked “You would not believe how cold it's gotten out there.” Finishing with the zipper he continued undeterred. “Wow, I mean I thought it was cold before, but this!” He shook his head in wonder. “Man the water almost froze on it's way out of the faucet, if you know what I mean!”

“Okay Sandburg!” I held my hands up in surrender. “That is way more information than I need.”

Chuckling he came over and sat down just beside me. Turning toward him I focused on his face in the light. He looked like he'd lost ten pounds in the three days since this started.

“I am sorry buddy.” I repeated softly.

“I know Jim.” His face was solemnly understanding, but sad. “I also know that what I call being in touch with my feelings you call moody. I just wasn't raised to pretend things don't bother me.” He looked at me and shook his head in no little frustration. “It just so pisses me off when you get all protective about me and stupid about yourself. I've been cold before. I would have been okay for a little longer, you didn't have to send me back to the cave like a fragile little flower! All I kept imagining was you out there, zoned, and not a damn thing I could do about it.” He cleared his throat as he swallowed past a worsening soreness. “You took forr ev er man! Forever! We keep having this conversation over and over, and nothing ever changes. When are you going to let me do my job? When are you going to let me be your Guide? ”

“When are you going to let me be your Guide?” I said the words that summed up my one continuing failure. All the time I've been with Jim, working with him, I've never really gotten him to accept that as the Guide half of this team I have responsibilities. By always falling back into his damn 'Blessed Protector' role whenever he feels I'm at all at risk, he prevents me from doing what is my whole purpose in this partnership. How can I keep him from zoning, or watch his back, if I'm not there with him?

“At some point Jim, you are either going to have to let me be your partner for real, or find someone you trust enough to become guide and partner.” My voice was rough, less from my increasingly scratchy throat than with discomfort of what I was discussing. “If every time things get hazardous you are going to send me away then one of these days you're going to get hurt, or worse.” I saw the denial form in Jim's light eyes but I continued before he could voice it. “It's true Jim. You've gotten great at controlling your senses most of the time, so you don't need a guide as much. The problem is now the times the Sentinel most needs a guide is because the shit's hit the fan big time. And generally that's when you tell me to stay away.” I shook my head as my mind replayed the dozens, hell, hundreds of times I'd been told to stay back, stay put, or stay in the truck. “When you most need someone at your back, you insist on going it alone. You need someone man, and if it's not me then maybe it's time to look into finding someone else you can accept.” My eyes dwelled on the fire, unable to escape the hurt of what I was suggesting. But I knew what I was saying needed to be said. “You said that guides give off a specific scent you can recognize. Well maybe we need to visit some of the other stations, check to see if there are any other officers that are guides. If you had a partner that was both a cop and a guide you'd have someone trained and armed to watch your back as well as fend off zones.”

I had thought of this so many times, but never actually said it out loud. Partly I had felt that it would be useless. Jim was so firmly convinced that guide's were born not trained that he hadn't really given Simon or Megan much chance to see if with more practice they could improve their success rate at preventing or retrieving him from a zone.

There was also no way I could convince Jim to randomly take on a normal, full time cop partner. Someone who carried a gun and knew how to use it to watch out for him and balance his damn gung ho, get his man at all costs, Lone Ranger streak. Simon had told me how hard it had been for him to get cooperation when he had assigned Jim to Jack Pendergass. Jim didn't do partners well. He had lost too many people in his life and I think unconsciously he did everything in his power to not get used to depending or needing anyone. That way it would hurt less when they left.

But now I knew that Jim was capable of picking individuals who were, or could be, guides, out of a crowd. With that option available maybe he could find a veteran officer who had more in common with him then I did. Or even if it was a rookie, hell I'd learned a lot in the last few years and I'd never even gone to the academy. Jim could mold a rookie into a damn fine cop, and I could teach him the ropes to being a guide.

My stomach churned and clenched as my mind played out the scenarios of Jim with someone else at his side. Some internal instinct screamed the wrongness of such a scene. I couldn't help a momentary impulse to just drop the whole subject. Selfishly I considered what losing Jim would mean to me. How empty my life would be if I just went back to being a nomadic academic. I had never had a friendship as strong and consuming as the one I shared with Jim. Even losing out on the Sentinel and Guide relationship wouldn't hurt as much as the loss that I, Blair Sandburg, would feel when Jim Ellison was not infused into almost every aspect of my existence.

But if my returning to the tame merry-go-round of University life could assure some greater measure of safety for the stubborn, gruff and unbelievably kind man I unashamedly consider precious to my life, then so be it.

“Wouldn't work Chief.” I had sunk so deeply into my train of thought that I jumped slightly when Jim's response came from just a few inches from my ear. Looking up into his face burnished by the fires light I saw an expression of both concern and exasperation. “Yeah, I know now how to sniff out people that give off the 'Guide' scent. But that would only uncover other guides, not MY guide. YOU, and only YOU, are, and ever will be, MY GUIDE.” His hand came down firmly on my shoulder and squeezed just shy of causing pain. “Sandburg… Blair. You 're right; we have had this conversation before. And nothing changes because WE don't change. This is too important for either of us to buck our natures. I know that you are willing to run the risks to stay handy when things go sour. That your instincts are screaming at you to be there for me just in case I need help with the senses.” He brought the other hand up to my other shoulder, gripping that one tightly also. “But you have to understand…my instincts are just as strong to keep you safe. Try to get this Chief! I've been shot, beat up, hell I've even been blown up once or twice. I really believe that I can and will survive if things go south. Confidence, ego, experience, I don't know exactly why I feel that way, but I do. What I also know, what I finally learned after way to many mistakes,” the squeezing had become fierce now and Jim's voice was more growl than speech. “Is that what I couldn't survive is losing YOU!” He shook my shoulders slightly, reminding me more of a terrier than a cat right then. “You talk about finding me another guide Chief. Do you know how many times I've thought that same thing? After Lash, Kincaid, and the others. After Alex I swore to myself I would find a way to get out of your life. Before I got you killed, again!”

Suddenly the harsh grip released me and Jim lurched to his feet. Stalking the length of the cave he continued talking through gritted teeth. “But nothing I tried worked. Simon, Megan, hell I even tried to work a few cases with Rafe and Brown alone to see if I could anchor off them.” His hands fisted and released as he paced. “But I couldn't maintain focus with them.” Looking up he shot me a knowing look. “You thought that if I spent more time practicing with them it would work out. I noticed the number of times you tried to manipulate them into working with me. But they aren't guides Sandburg. They just aren't. And no matter how much I want to keep you safely separate from my job and the crazy's I attract, you are my friend and my only GUIDE! No one else will work.

His stalking had returned him to my side where he glared at the fire in some displaced frustration. “Okay Sandburg, that's it, I have spilled my guts, again, and I warn you, all this warm fuzzy crap is about ready to make me ill. I care about you, okay? I can't change it, can't control it. And I sure as hell can't ignore when you are at risk. I can't say that I won't tell you to stay in the truck, or stay behind me. Ain't going to happen. Either I give up being a cop, or give up being a Sentinel. But I can't give up having you in my life. So what do you want me to say and do Chief? What will help you…me… us?”

Looking up into his face I felt that somehow he really expected me to be able to come up with an answer, a solution that we both would be able to accept. But I knew that he was right about one thing, neither of us was likely to budge on what we felt was such a major issue, the safety of the other. Maybe neither of us really had a choice. As frustrating as the current arrangement was, wasn't it still the lesser of two evils. We could continue to run the risks, together, because the other options just could not be even thought of. Jim giving up being a cop, a Sentinel… not damn likely! And I wouldn't, couldn't turn into a gun-toting Guide.

As he squatted there looking at me I felt the oddest feeling of déjà vu'. For a flash of a moment I saw Jim by a fire across from me. Except we were not encased in stone and ice. The air was moist with humidity, warm and rife with the rich smell of earth. Trees surrounded us, heavy with leaves and vines. Jim was tanned to a rich dark brown and his sun bleached hair hung past his ears. A strip of soft hand woven fabric wrapped across his forehead to keep errant locks from his intense face. He wore chaps below a loincloth and a vest all of suede like leather. His feet were clad in sandals with braided straps holding them on. In his left hand extended beside him were held several sharpened throwing spears barely thicker than a pencil and nearly his height in length. A pair of sheaths on his left hip held two hand-hammered knives with polished bone handles. The entire length of the skin on his right arm was intricately tattooed with a myriad of mystic symbols and a stylized but recognizable shape of a jaguar and a wolf leaping forth from a single heart. On the back of his right hand was a scar burned in the shape of a claw. His eyes looked into the jungle around us with the wary vigilance of a man expecting nothing but prepared for anything.

In my vision I sat with my legs folded comfortably across from this other time warrior. I was dressed in similar chaps and loincloth, but a heavy half sleeve woven shirt showed beneath my vest. My dark curls were constrained in a braid that hung to the middle of my back. A set of slender stilettos of a dark metal with small handles of the same metal, were strapped across my upper chest. A bamboo quiver was belted at my waist and I somehow knew it held a carefully crafted wooden tube and three dozen needle thin darts dipped in a fast acting, but non-lethal sap of a local plant. My entire left arm was identically tattooed as my companion but the back of my hand bore the branded shape of an eye. My own skin and hands bore the tough calluses and tan of someone who had labored hard and spent time in the sun.

For a moment my vision self looked up from the task of grinding some powders and saps in a stone mortis. Jim's eyes turned from the trees to immediately return my gaze. Eyes of similar blues meet and again reaffirmed the connection. Two bodies, one heart. Each gaze sending and receiving the same unwavering vow. For you… everything, anything!

A branch in the fire cracked and fell into the flames sending up a fan of sparks and cinders and shocking me out of my momentary hallucination. Where the hell had that come from?? I know I have a fever, but geeeezzzz! Very weird. Yet…something about the vision. I had felt as much as I had seen. The deep soul connection between that pair had mirrored that which I felt for Jim. Was this some kind of mystic message, or maybe my own sub conscious? Whatever, it had somehow made clear what deep inside I already knew. We were meant to be a team. Maybe in other lives as much as this one. And Jim had been correct; the essential natures of the two of us couldn't really change. He would continue to chase trouble and I'd continue to chase him, he'd tell me to stay in the truck, I'd ignore him. We would drive each other to distraction over it. But I couldn't give up, not on the friendship, not on being his Guide, and not on him.

It was odd; with the decision made a burdensome weight that I hadn't even realized I was bearing was lifted. I almost sighed with relief. Watching me Jim must have sensed something because his eyebrows lifted in question. “Chief?”

“It's okay Jim. Just had an epiphany of sorts. I just realized you're right, you're irrevocably you and I'm irrevocably me. In some thing's we can't change our essential core selves. And as absolutely infuriating as I find the whole realization that you are going to continue to periodically be an overprotective dickhead growling at me to 'stay put Sandburg', I find comfort in the fact that I in turn am going to continue to ignore you to be your backup in spite of you if needed. We're a team man. Together no matter what. I can, and will be there man. Accept it! I finally have.” I smiled with satisfaction and wasn't the least bit put out by the grumpy frown that Jim nailed me with.

“Dickhead?” He growled and squeezed the back of my neck threateningly. When I looked up into that intimidating glower that could send hardened criminals into thumb sucking regression I couldn't help chuckling. His expression may have promised terrible things, but his eyes were always so easy for me to read. I started to laugh harder which deteriorated into another spell of coughing.

“Just calling it as I see it big guy.” I snorted out between honking coughs. The hold on my neck became a gentle massage communicating support. When I finally dragged in a gasping breath that didn't immediately trigger another cough, Jim had moved around to kneel beside me. Looking into my face his worry about my continuing lung congestion was almost palpable.

“Chief you need to get something hot inside you and then crawl under the covers.” Funny how food was such an integral part of Jim's prescription for happiness and health. I swear the man could wax nostalgic about each steak he had had the pleasure to be introduced to. Right now I didn't feel as hungry as I should be considering my last meal was hours ago. But I was tired. No, make that exhausted. Everything I had…ached, and my chest felt like a steel band was being twisted tighter and tighter around it. And just to top it off even the blazing fire had not thawed the bone deep chill I felt.

“I'll eat later Jim. But I will definitely take the forty winks, in fact I'll probably take eighty, or a hundred and sixty, maybe even…” I was saved from trying to extrapolate the next in the progression by a gentle cuff to the back of my head.

“Knock it off Sandburg.” He growled emphatically. “And you need to eat. Feed a cold, drown a fever. You qualify on both counts. I'll make up some rabbit soup and you WILL eat it. Clear?”

Wonderful, 'mother hen from hell' was in full attendance. I could tell by the glint in his eyes that this was going to be one of those conversations. He essentially would throw around orders. Expecting immediate and absolute obedience. Yeah, after all these years he knows that he hasn't got a snowballs chance but every once in a while I humor him and let him have his way. Seeing the barely restrained anxiety in his eyes I decided this was one of those times.

“Yes Sir!” I barked back and snapped the best salute I could manage sitting on the ground. I was rewarded with another thwack to the back of my head and an easing of the worry in Jim's eyes. Mission accomplished.

With the experienced efficiency that he had acquired both as a soldier and woodsman Jim transformed melted snow, animal fat, ugh, and rabbit meat into a soup that was so thick it probably could have qualified as porridge. With some prompting from me he did manage to prepare some of the tuber's I had gathered and he chucked them in also.

In the end I was presented with a shallow stone bowl filled to overflowing with the stuff. Having tasted some of Jim's idea of cooking I extended a tentative tongue to dip cautiously into the thick goop. Happily the taste was mild and not too greasy as I was prompted to eat every drop under the watchful, unwavering gaze of a Sentinel.

Lack of appetite not withstanding, the stew, (I refuse to call something that thick soup!) was tasty and the heat from it seemed to move out from my stomach to melt the icy discomfort I hadn't been able to shake.

As soon as I was finished I moved obediently to the pallet and tunneled back into the warm depths of makeshift bedding. I listened for a few minutes to the crackle of the fire, and Jim as he moved around preparing and eating some of his concoction. I had expected him to join me; he had to still be tired also. But I drifted to sleep so quickly I never even heard him finish his meal.

It was weird, having to fight the urge to tuck Sandburg in like some kid. But it took some discipline to overcome what I guess is the Sentinel instincts to be hypersensitive to the comfort of the Guide. And though I was a bit over warm in the close confines of the cave, that didn't keep me from making sure that the fire would burn undiminished for many hours to keep my ill and cold sensitive partner warm. I also checked the entrance to our little niche to assure myself that Blair's frozen panel would continue to withstand the wind outside.

Once I had ensured our safety for the time being, I joined my partner in his cocoon and was asleep in moments.

I jerked awake suddenly, after what could have been minutes or hours. It wasn't a subtle transition from slumber to half awareness to awake either. It was from completely out of it to 100% alert in a single heartbeat. I stretched out my hearing, the only thing of any real use in our current circumstance. But it cut in and out, spiking painfully on roaring winds and the rattle and slap of tree limbs. Feeling some urgent need I quickly refocused on Sandburg's heartbeat as an anchor and then sent out my hearing again. But I still couldn't find whatever had triggered this heightened sense of alert.

I didn't even realize that I had jumped to my feet and moved to and through the cave entrance. The snow was blasting the ledge but I was oblivious. I don't know how long I stood there like a statue trying to force my hearing past the shrieking wind and smothering snow. Maybe I zoned, maybe I just refused to let up until I figured out what I was hunting for? Whatever the cause I totally ignored my immediate surroundings. Or at least I did until a grip like a pincer latched onto my arm and Blair's hoarse voice tried to shout into my straining ear over the howl of the storm.

“Jim? Come on man, it's freezing out here!” I could feel the shivers that wracked him and the heat of his rising fever. I could hear the deep wheezing whistle of fluid in his lungs; smell the sour odor of sickness about him. A part of me wanted to rush him back into the warmth waiting only feet away. But even as I felt his need, his presence allowed my senses to lock unerringly on what had been nagging at me and I heard a deep raging growl. It took a moment to realize it was coming from me. Even with the wailing wind Blair heard the sound and immediately stiffened.

“Jim?” His inquiry was more to himself than to me, but I heard it clearly, even as I listened to another sound.

“It's him.” I spat out through clenched teeth. My whole posture was rigidly aimed up the valley, like a bird dog on point. There was no way to see through the blanket of white swirling around me, yet I was able to tune out the cacophony of the blizzard to hear my enemy.

“Him? Him the other Sentinel him?” Blair's voice climbed the scale as his alarm further strained his inflamed throat. “How close?”

“To close! Probably only a hundred yards, damn him.” My voice was hot with fury. How had I let him get practically on top of us without noticing? Some Sentinel! Some 'Blessed Protector'. So wrapped up in my anger and self recriminations was I that I actually forgot where I was and who was with me.

“How the hell did he get close in this storm?” There was still shock in Sandburg's voice, but even with the sore throat and teeth chattering from the cold, I noticed the hard edge that had come to it. He was worried, but not about himself, about me. And knowing that was enough to hold back my decent into that primal territoriality that has so spooked my Guide earlier.

Having followed the other Sentinels conversation for several minutes I had already pieced together the story and knew the threat was self-resolving. Turning I hurriedly herded Sandburg back through the opening in our cave into the waiting warmth. “Kincaid sent him to go to their base and bring back some more snowmobiles. He started out in the jeep before the storm front really closed in.” Hearing was telling me plenty now, and giving me an assurance that the weather was going to neutralize the threat without my having to lift a finger.

“By the time the blizzard really got going he'd lost orientation, so he just followed the cliff face downhill. Wind, sleet, lose of traction, he managed to flip the Jeep practically on our doorstep.” I kept my opinion that I felt the fact it happened right where it did was likely from the other Sentinel sensing Blair and getting distracted.

“Flipped the jeep! Is he…I mean did he…?” The look on Blair's face was a study in conflicting feelings. The gentle, compassionate teacher I knew so well, by nature wouldn't wish harm to a fly. But the protective Guide couldn't help but recognize the threat the other man was to his Sentinel and friend.

I considered lying, telling him that the accident had finished the man. Spare him feeling bad about the man freezing to death out in that hellacious cold. But the thing about that is every time I lied to Sandburg; somehow he ended up getting punished for my falsehood. Like I said before, the fountain had convinced me to never keep secrets from my Guide.

“Not yet Chief.” It took some effort to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. But my thoughts, well lets just say they tended toward 'good riddance and go to hell.' Yeah, yeah, I know almost nothing about the other sentinel. Innocent until proven guilty and all that. Well when it comes to some guy working for Kincaid, strike one, hunting my guide, strike two, but another Sentinel working for Kincaid, hunting my guide, I was more than willing to be judge, jury and executioner.

“Ohh.” The conflict on Sandburg's face continued for a few more seconds. But then I saw the gears in his quirky mind shift and a horrible certainty grabbed me even before he opened his mouth to confirm just what I knew he was going to say.

“While you get your stuff together I'll need to braid some of the chute cord into a length of rope. We'll need to be lashed together or I'll be lost in five seconds. You may be able to navigate in a blinding snow storm, but I can't.”

“Sandburg you can't navigate in a parking lot with signs! But you don't have to. You are not going out there!” Worry, rage, protectiveness, possessiveness and simple common sense all made the sentence come out a roar.

He didn't even look up from his nimble but shaky fingers that were twisting several cords into a thicker cable. “There is no way you can manage out there in all that without me, man.” He said matter of factly. “You'd overload and zone in a blink.”

I looked at him, pale, drawn and sweating from fever. His lungs struggling to fill and empty, again full of a bubbling whistle that could only be the onset of pneumonia. Yet he squatted there, preparing to go into a blizzard to save someone whose purpose was his and my death. Insanity! IT WAS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN!

My hand landed on his shoulder and gripped hard enough to draw a gasp of pain. “YOU are not going Sandburg. And you don't have to worry about me… I'm not either. Neither of us is, Chief. Get this through that loony brain of yours…HE IS THE ENEMY! He isn't some innocent hurt through no fault of his own. He was out there because he is hunting us, he wants us dead.” He flinched as the stone hardness of my words pelted him.

My jaw ached it was clenched so tightly. I felt like I had to drive each word into him, like a stake into a vampire. I had to force them into his heart and soul and MAKE him accept them. Make him give up the unreal belief that every life was of irreplaceable value.

And then I looked down into his face. Damn!

It was all there for me to see and recognize. Even though his visage showed the ravages of the last few days, his eyes held that deep, irrevocable strength that couldn't be denied. The steel that held him fast to his convictions in a world that made doing so a constant struggle. Double damn, this was definitely going to be a battle royal. But even though I knew what that look meant, I was not going to let him get away with it.

“DON'T!” I roared. “Don't give me that “we can't leave him out there to die” look. We can, and WE WILL.” I glared down at him. My icy gaze meeting his calmly warm blue eyes. “It is well below freezing, there are gale force winds, and in this crap even enhanced senses won't be of much use. There is no way I'm going to risk death to save someone who would gladly kill both of us!”

The deep blue pools of calm were definitely troubled by my last statement. I knew I had won a point with that. Sandburg had thought that my senses cancelled out the hazards of the storm. Even if his beliefs drove him to attempt to rescue even a villain, there was no way Blair would risk my life, not under any circumstances. I felt relief and oddly humbled by my surety of how much Blair valued me.

The distress in his eyes was painful to watch as he thought about a man, any man, feeling life be leeched away by the bitter draining cold. His own sensitivity to chills probably made him even more empathic of the situation than usual for him.

I resisted the impulse to throw out any platitudes like death by freezing was supposedly painless. Or that he would probably slipped into unconsciousness within a few minutes of the accident and not even suffer the fear of his situation. Such things would not make the compassionate anthropologist feel any better.

For a heartbeat I just shared his sorrow, even if it was for someone I would have gladly strangled, respecting Blair's values.

But then the look changed. Like a television channel suddenly being switched I watched the steel return. With dismay I watched his fingers return to twisting cord into rope.

Had I misread him?
With a sinking feeling I saw the concentration on his face, as his focus seemed to be far away.

“Quit with the rope Sandburg.” I snapped as I reached to snatch it away from him. “We won't need it.”

“I will.” Came his calm yet determined response as he held onto the length, resisting my effort to pull it away. Shit. Shit. Shit. I understood exactly the direction this was going but I pretended incomprehension to try to divert him.

“I told you Chief. We can't go out in this. Even my senses aren't up to the challenge.”

“You aren't going Jim. But I have to.” His voice was absolutely resolute. “I figure I'll tie off the rope just below here and move in a straight line out, use it to not get disoriented. Feed out the rope to the right distance. Once I find him I'll follow it straight back.” He made it sound like some easy Hansel and Gretel stroll.

“NO! How do you plan to find him? You haven't got a clue where he is. How the hell do you figure to even know how far in what direction to go in?” I challenged in a furious tone.

“You said about three hundred yards and I saw the direction you focused when we were on the ledge. You're sort of like a dog on point when you are using your senses man. I know exactly what direction to go.” There was no smugness in his tone, but for a moment I was tempted to throttle him. Why couldn't I have had a dumb Guide? Preferably with some sense of self-preservation!

His thin rope was now a thick coil at his feet. He must have gotten his requisite three hundred feet because he pushed himself off the ground and rose, none too steady I might add, and moved toward the cave mouth.

I was in his way instantly. I drew myself to my tallest, trying to intimidate him with every inch of my six feet two. My face had gone rock like, betraying no give, no compromise. With this imposing stance I had cowed psychotic killers and hardened criminals.

“You are not going.” My tone was flat, emotionless and brooked no argument.

“Yes Jim. I am.” His expression was anything but flat. It spoke a more fluent language than even words could articulate. It was spelled out there for me in a way I could not ignore. I would lose no matter what. If he went out there I might lose him to the weather. But if I physically overpowered him, kept him here against his will, I would lose him also by crossing an unspoken but clearly defined line. Even to save his life he would never forgive me usurping his self-determination.

“SHIT!” I practically bellowed as I grabbed the rope from him. For a moment I saw doubt flash through his eyes and his heart rate jumped. As I tied one end around my own waist I could almost read his mind. For a minute there he had thought I was going to use his own rope to tie him up and detain him.

Now though, with the realization of my intent, the stubborn look returned to his face.

“What do you think you're doing Jim?” He asked in a frustrated tone.

“What the hell does it look like Sandburg? I'm going to go get him. OKAY!” I growled out. “Don't worry, I won't kill him. I'll bring him back alive, and as intact as the wreck left him. You stay here. I shouldn't be more than a few minutes.” I began to loop the rope in a coil in my hand only to find Blair using his knife to cut through it at about the six-foot length. The other end of the shorter bit he quickly tied around his overly thin waist, and then tossed me the remaining thick coil.

“Stop it Chief. I said I'd bring him back in one piece. Don't you trust me?” I tried to get some cooperation with the play on his not wanting to hurt my feelings with any hint of distrust.

“Trust isn't the problem Jim. I trust you completely.” There was fierceness to the last word, like he needed me to believe the depth of his trust. “But I'm not happy with you going out in this storm. If you go, I go.” He held up a gloved hand to stop my response even as it formed on my lips. “Let's not argue anymore Jim. We could have been there and back already. So let's just GO!”

For a beat I stood there. Why had I even tried? As soon as I saw 'the look' I knew I'd lost. I knew that this would be the outcome. So why hadn't I just saved all that time and argument and just accepted the inevitability. Shaking my head I just proceeded out onto the ledge, almost being blown over in the now even more violent winds. Turning I wasn't surprised to see my partner almost get slammed into the cliff wall when the blow caught him. Unconsciously I reached out and steadied him and was rewarded with an unexpected smile. “Wow!” He shouted, “Stiff breeze.”

I could barely see him just two feet in front of me in the driving snow. It was a complete white out. A hand pressed on my forearm, “Don't crank up hearing to high in this mess” Blair shouted by my ear only to have most of the sound torn away in the gusts. I nodded and moved to slide off the ledge. As I landed at the cliff base I sank into snow almost to my waist. The wind had blown a deep drift up just below our little cave residence.

Slogging away from the wall I was relieved a bit when the snow wasn't as deep. I had to lean forward to counteract the assault of the wind. The gusts pushed the snowflakes at such speed they felt like razors as they plowed into my exposed face. A second later I was pulled up short by the rope around my waist. Turning, my own bulk stopping the wind and snow from pummeling my partner, I watched him secure the longer length of cord to a rock outcrop.

Satisfied that the tether was secure he trudged through the snow that girdled him. Coming out of the deep drift he fed out the rope as he pushed to where I stood facing him. “After you.” He shouted. We had been out less then five minutes and his teeth were chattering like castanets and shivers wracked him. I just shut up and turned back into the gale and started trekking out.

Right then I couldn't have cared less about the other Sentinel. My only motivator was to get to the bad guy; hopefully he'd die before we got there, and then get Sandburg back to the warmth of the cave. Arguing would only delay that outcome.

Acting the role of a human plow I pushed a path through the knee-high powder while keeping one ear tuned exclusively to Sandburg. He was being quiet for a change. But that probably had to do more with the fact that it was taking all his lungpower to just manage to trudge along in my wake.

Luckily even in the blinding gale somehow I was able to maintain a straight course and reached the woods edge in less than ten minutes. Turning I was just in time to catch Sandburg as he stumbled over the last drift and lurched into my side. His panting was so high and strident it was painful to even listen to.

Pulling him into the leeside of the group of huge pines I was leaning behind, I was able to see clearly for the first time since leaving the cave. “Shit Chief!” I couldn't hold back the exclamation. Reaching out I gathered him into a tight hug and began desperately massaging his arms and back.

He was so rigid it was almost like rubbing an ice-sculpture. I could feel the chill that went all the way through him. After about a minute the head that had been scrunched down like a turtle's in the collar of his coat moved slowly and watery blue eyes turned up to look at me. His short but curly beard was thick with ice. I've seen corpses with healthier coloring than my partner had.

“Sandburg this is insane. The wind chill factor is minus 20 easy and you have moved well past cold into hypothermia. We are going back NOW!”

I had obviously gotten some of his blood moving because he hissed in the pain of returning circulation. “Nuhg…gg hh h oo o ah!” Only a Sentinel could have heard that whispered response stuttered so bad between gritted chattering teeth. But when I tried to pull him around to face back the way we had come he shot his gloved hand out surprisingly fast and latched onto a branch. “Jjjii …iee..mmah! Sss stt too pppp iiittttt. Nnn eeaarr.”

I stood there for a minute trying to pry his hand off the branch. I felt like a parent trying to pry lose the hands of the recalcitrant child who wouldn't let go of the chair when being taken in to see the doctor. “Let go Sandburg. I'm not kidding here, hypothermia kills. You are hypothermic. I can hear your system going sluggish from the cold. YOU ARE NOT DYING ON ME!” I was bellowing by now, unable to keep the trace of raising panic from my voice. Hypothermia does kill, and sometimes even if you get the person still alive someplace warm, the leeching loss of core body heat still shuts down their organs and they die anyway.

Not on my watch, not my friend, and not to rescue a damn enemy!!

The adrenaline of his resisting me must have warmed him a bit, because Blair's chattering was not so pronounced as he hissed an angry “Jjj im! Ssstop maan. Www eere cclosse. Cccann yya hh ear ee emm?”

At that moment the only thing I could focus my senses on was the struggle of my Guides lungs, the hammer of his heart, the smell of illness that rolled off him. There wasn't a prayer of me switching them off him and reaching past the howling wind to find the sound of a stranger. But with the realization that Blair's stubborn compassion would not let him leave another out in this, I mentally reversed my earlier decision and I decided to lie.

“He's gone Chief. It's over. Now lets get back before the weather gets even worse and we both join him.” I felt no qualms about what I was planning. I didn't feel guilty thinking about the strange Sentinel freezing to death. For what Blair had been put through I wanted him, Kincaid and their whole insane crew flogged, flayed and in hell!

Unfortunately I did feel guilty about lying to Blair, so it was no surprise that he turned to look me straight in the eye. He held my gaze and I knew he knew.

He didn't bother even calling me on it. He just kept staring at me. Waiting there, shivering, pale and damn immovable.

Feeling my teeth ache as they were ground together, I again surrendered. Closing my eyes I pushed my senses out from the sheltered windbreak we huddled behind. When I winced as the bellowing wind poured into my head like an explosion, I immediately felt a firm grip on my elbow. His voice still stuttered as he crooned comforting encouragement. “Eees ee dd onnt oov er foo cus.”

It was hellacious dealing with the raise and fall of the storm noise and reach for something so faint and subtle as a voice, or heartbeat or movement. But I tried, setting aside my own desires to honor my Guides.

For a moment I caught a drone of a voice, quickly lost as the wind screamed up the scale again. My nose unconsciously piggybacked with my hearing and for a fraction of a second an assortment of scents where caught and catalogued. Burned metal and rubber, smoke, chemicals and gas.

Using the information my senses had already gathered I peeked around the protection of the trees we were huddled behind and extended my vision carefully. We were just inside the tree line and the barricade of tall evergreens was doing a pretty good job of buffering the massive billowing blankets of snow propelled around us. Just enough to look further into the woods, but not enough to see any more than a few yards. But with Sentinel vision it was enough.

Grabbing the line from Sandburg I tied it off to the tree we where sheltered by. “Stay here Chief, I see the jeep just a few yards further up. I'll get him and bring him back.”

Those damn father confessor eyes reached up into mine, exacting from me an unvoiced but irrevocable pledge not to kill the other Sentinel when I found him. Then he struggled to move up beside me as I started back into the blowing snow.

Firmly grasping his shoulders I pushed him back behind the trees. “Stay!” That sounded a little too much like a dog trainer so I hurriedly continue. “It'll take me five minutes alone, and twenty if you come. I won't hurt him and I'll be right back.” I knew what he was going to say so I answered even as he opened his mouth. “And I don't need to use the senses, it's just over there a short way, so I won't zone.”

I could see that the cold had made even thinking hard because his face kind of scrunched up as he tried to detect any falsehood in my statement.

A short nod was all I got in agreement, but I knew he was trying to hide the severity of his situation by not talking. Between the shudders, stutters, and weakness his voice sounded like that of a ninety year old.

As I turned to leave I noticed Sandburg lean his back against the tree trunk like he planned to sit, but I grabbed his frost-covered face between my gloved hands. “You WILL NOT go to sleep! You stay awake!” I saw my words reach through the bleary sluggish brain and fire his recognition of the hazard of sleeping in his current condition. With freezing, the slid from sleep to coma to death was way to certain to ignore.

“Won't!” Blair forced out the promise without a single chatter of teeth, and with more strength than I thought he had at the moment. I patted the side of his face affectionately and nodded at him.

“Good.” I smiled and gave a firm “Be right back.” Then started jogging the short distance to the smoking dark bulk I saw ahead. With the tree canopy acting like an umbrella the snow wasn't nearly as deep and I made good time in spite of not being able to use my enhanced senses.

Stepping from behind the shelter of larger trunks I was slapped by a seeming solid wall of snow propelled by an unrelenting wind. But leaning into it I trudged steadily the remaining few feet toward the harsh smells and vague shape I had picked up. As I got within ten feet of the military green jeep I could finally make out the vehicle thru the swirling white clouds.

A hardtop Jeep, it had flipped onto its passenger side and continued over until the roof and driver doorframe caught against one of the massive pines. The driver's seat looked to have been crushed by the impact. The front hood must have popped open and been ripped away, exposing the dirty engine it had covered.

Now only a few feet away the smell of spilled fuel and burned rubber was cloying even to a regular sense of smell.

Just about then several things happened pretty much simultaneously. My Sentinel vision snapped online unbidden and zoomed past the driving gusts of snow to focus on the vignette of a tire and other jeep refuse, just under the overturned vehicle.

The tire had been stuffed with upholstery fabric, papers and wood and then been lit. Protected from the wind under the lean-to the jeep created, someone had made a large, practical and probably life saving fire.

At the precise minute that information was processed by one part of my brain, I felt an uncanny familiarity with the scene just around me.

Without any particular reason a sense of threat pounded into me. I swung around, going into a defensive crouch facing the tree line. Some ancient instinct brought all my senses up to their peak and aimed them into the screen of snow-covered brush before me. A heart pounded just beyond the pine needles and my nostrils flared grabbing a myriad of scents that had no place in the winter woods. Smoke, cloth, leather, metal, rubber, asphalt, and fuel swirled with a distinct body odor. My lips pulled into a snarl as I recognized the spore of the other Sentinel.

The dream.

As the pine boughs moved aside to allow the enemy's approach, I tensed with the realization that I was enacting the drama of my earlier dream of the Jaguar's conflict with the bear.

And the huge brown bear of my vision was appropriate for the giant before me. Even in the lashing bands of sleet and snow I saw my enemy clearly. He was maybe Blair's age with short choppy brown hair. A thick bony forehead with bushy brown eyebrows and a large dominate nose. Taller than even Simon's six feet four by at least another two inches, he towered over me. But where my Captain was lean and athletic in build, the enemy Sentinel was framed like a professional wrestler. He was almost as broad across as Blair and I combined and so muscular that even the coat and windbreaker jumpsuit he wore didn't hide the rock hard physique.

Furious gray eyes latched onto me communicating an instantaneous challenge. HE KNEW. Damn.

“You dae' cop, Ellizon. So you be juz like me! I fell…” His voice had an oddly stilted French accent. He tilted his head in a way I was all too familiar with. “Hunder… where be you Seer? Hidden? No hidin' from our kind huh? Nod long anywayz. He near?” His flinty eyes scanned around with poorly disguised hunger. This guy knew what he was and knew what he needed. Shitshitshitshit.

But watching him I also could see that though he definitely knew about his senses, the control was poor to non-existent. I saw him wince trying to reach out sporadic hyper hearing, and the pupils of his eyes pulled wide only to spiral back to pinpoints, useless. The barrage of snow and wind and other sensory assaults were beyond his skill at control.

He shrugged as he realized that he couldn't use his enhanced potential and swung his gaze back to me. “Granpap allays zay anytin' wert havin' be wert fighttin' for.” He smiled a big toothy grin that only made him look hungrier and more feral.

“Never tink I hav a chanz for nudder Seer. A few moor yaar like dis an I be like duh rahbid dog. You havin' a Seer you don know whad it like to hav everytin hurt. To be born wit duh gift an not be able to control.” He had shuffled forward slightly talking as he did. As I glared at him his nostrils flared and again the head tilted. Instantly I realized, he had caught Sandburg's scent on me and was trying to get his senses on line long enough to isolate his location.

“Nod many Seer's aroun' cop. Mine, he be tagken from me when I too young an small to win duh fight to keep 'im.” Still grinning his tongue darted out to wet his lips in an unconscious movement. “Now I be big enoough. Save us all dah trupple cop. Tell 'im to come oud an I don kill you. I led you go. All I wan' is my Seer.”

Something in me snapped. His claiming of Blair stripped away all that forty years of civilization had instilled in me to release an ancient warrior.

“MINE!” I roared my challenge at him even as he charged, swinging a huge gloved fist at me.

Easily I ducked under the blow, and swung a two handed fist into his back at the waist trying to rupture his kidneys. There was a sharp zing of pain from my still not 100% healed shoulder and arm. But I easily tuned down the pain. Ignoring the other man's bellow of pain and rage as he began to turn to grab at me I hopped on his back and speared out a flattened hand in a karate chop to the neck that should have robbed him of consciousness instantly.

But my earlier injuries or the gloves on my hands soften the impact in both my blows and the man mountain seemed to be made entirely of gristle and muscle. Though I was hurting him, I was also pissing him off even more.

He shook like a dog and grabbed my ankle, my bad ankle, and slung me away from him to strike, hard, into a nearby tree trunk. My head, back and hip struck with enough force that it should have broken bones. Only my own winter clothing and the snows drift saved me. But the pain was unbelievable and though there were no stars or little birdies circling my head like in the cartoons, I was definitely dazed. But I had no time to let myself feel the pain. I had to get back into the fight. This challenger had to be taken down before he got near my Guide.

I struggled to rise, images of Sandburg at the mercy of this behemoth pulled me up despite my pain. But I was too slow. A fist slammed backhanded across my face throwing me further into the trees to impact against another rock hard trunk, then slide down to lay at its base. For a moment my world blacked out and there was no thought, only pain.

I would not survive another such blow but I struggled to bring myself up to try and take the beast down with me. As my thoughts coalesce and I rally to fight off the waves of darkness trying now to claim me, I see the dark image of the bear superimposed over the immense form of the giant who was plowing toward me like an avalanche. I was out of time.

Suddenly the snow waves part and a blur of darkness and fury exploded out of the tree's, slamming into the man mountain as he charged by. Blindsided, the giant was bowled over and slammed into the tree's himself to strike hard and fall face first into the snow.

So focused had each of us been on killing each other neither of us had heard the approach of my partner.

Grabbing a branch from the ground Sandburg pressed the momentary advantage of his surprise attack and leapt on the dazed giant's back as he began to regain his feet, pummeling at the huge man's head.

Incredibly even with Blair's one hundred and sixty pounds standing on his back the giant still managed to climb upright. I heard the scrappy anthropologist howl as a hand the size of a ham reached up, batted away the stick, grabbed onto my partners shoulder, dug in powerful fingers and ripped him off like a tick being removed.

The giant shook the smaller man like a terrier with a rat and I watched in horror as he then flung my friend away. Almost immediately the other Sentinel must have realized that the thing he had been looking for had come to him and he had just almost killed his prize.

Shaking my head to try to get some of the ringing to let up I glared as the enemy started toward the figure curled in a ball at the base of one of the many young saplings. Reaching down a tentative hand to check for a pulse the huge man was totally unprepared as with a roar of rage my much heavier weight landing on his back and my two now bare and well trained hands spading hard into each side of his neck. Immediately after the stunning nerve blows I snaked an arm quickly around the corded neck to latch onto the arms mate on the far side in a classic sleeper hold. My bad shoulder burned with pain at the strain, but the sight of Blair curled unmoving nearby magnified my incentive.

The mammoth flung himself backwards trying to dislodge me, clawing at my arm that pressed like a steel rod across his throat. But the chop to the nerves at his neck had already dizzied the giant, and now his head swam from lack of oxygen to his lungs and blood to his brain. Breathing hard but remembering my covert Ops training I wrapped my legs around his upper thighs limpet like and tripped up his backward rush. Falling backwards like a tree felled by an axe the monster tried to land with me under him.

But expecting just such a move I was prepared and managed to shift out of the way and still maintain my strangle hold.

With the enemy now flat on his back I exchange my knee for the strangling arm, continuing to press. Soon the bigger man went momentarily stiff and then ceased struggling entirely.

Oblivious to everything but the threat this other Sentinel presented I did not let up even when the giant went limp. No quarter asked, none given, my completely testosterone flushed mind growled. He had challenged and failed, the penalty for trying to take my Guide… death.

A touch soft as a caress on my shoulder preceded an undeniable command. “JIM NO! Let go.” No stutter of cold in that sharp bark. “NOW! You've won. He's down and out.”

For a moment some feral spirit in me snarled in resistance. If I twisted my weight on my knee just right, I could crush his larynx instantaneously. No way he'd survive. No way he'd ever try to take Blair from me.

“JIM! Snap out of it!” The soft touch now was a hard slap to the side of my head. My lips pulled back in a snarl as reluctantly I leaned back off my prey. I stooped there for a moment eyes sweeping over the other Sentinel. My senses were cataloguing everything about my enemy even as I rolled the behemoth over onto his stomach. Damn he must weigh three hundred pounds!

Pulling his arms across his back, I crossed his wrists and started to take off the bad guys belt to tie him with. Suddenly several strips of plastic riot cuffs and a single set of handcuffs were dangling in front of me?

Looking up into my partner's face I bit back the urge to exclaim how impossibly sick he looked. Instead I focused on the slightly loony smile. A few more strips of the white straps that looked like garbage bag ties were sticking out of his coat pocket.

All I had to do was raise my eyebrows in question and with a twinkle in his eyes he shrugged. “The handcuffs are the ones our hosts provided, sans key of course.” He shrugged again. “The riot ties, Simon gave me a few, said the way we were always getting into trouble I should never leave home without some.”

With a sigh at how tragically true that was I bound the hunk of muscle. In some kind of Sentinel overkill I put the cuffs and three straps around his wrists, two more plastic cuffs around his ankles and still pulled his belt off and fed it between his upper arms to secure them. That way he couldn't get enough leverage and spread to use his obvious strength to escape.

I heard the rush of a gasped intake of breath and then an alarmed, “Whoa.” Followed by a thump as Sandburg, adrenaline rush exhausted, suddenly swayed, grabbed for support that wasn't there and went down on his butt like a toddler on his first walk.

I was crouched at his side instantly as he tried to struggle back up. A quick sensory sweep just confirmed what I knew. Sandburg was physically spent and a very sick man.

Shaking my head in barely contained frustration I snapped a quick “Stay put…I'll be right back.”

“Stay put…I'll be right back.” He commanded with that 'move and I will be forced to hurt you” tone. Then turning his back on me he jogged to the overturned Jeep nearby.

Phew that was close. Thought I'd have to sit through another whole Ellison 'why didn't you stay like a good doggie where I left you' lecture. And I was just not up to it right now. So I stayed put. In fact staying put was like so not a problem right then. If a herd of elephants had suddenly tromped my way I don't think I could rally the strength to even get excited.

How was it possible to feel so whipped? Sitting there in the snow on my ass I couldn't seem to even connect with my surroundings that much. Everything around me seemed to be painted in dim watercolors that had lost all depth and clarity.

Trying to hold on to the here and now I tried to focus on the slab of beef bound like a rib roast just a few feet away. Snow was forming little mounds on him and then being blown away by gusts. I noticed the number of ways the bad guy was restrained and couldn't help an inner chuckle. I may have stopped Jim from killing the other Sentinel, but that hadn't meant my partner couldn't tied the challenger so that if he so much as twitched the wrong way he'd pull something.

Looking over the shear size of the man I could draw some obvious conclusions. Now I had met three Sentinels. And each one was scarier than the last. It was obvious that whatever genetics triggered the divergence to produce the Sentinel traits also was linked to creating exceptionally endowed specimens. These were primal beings in touch much more with their survival of the fittest roots than modern man.

Each had been unusually tall, strong, quick, and healthy. They also shared a tendency for aggression that obviously could be turned from the protection of the tribe into amoral or fanatic pursuits. Jim was a true Sentinel, a guardian of the tribe. Alex had been a perversion, perhaps due to having neither Guide nor tribe to ground her.

This man, I don't know. Kincaid preaches some pretty sick crap. A racist, the self proclaimed Colonel spouted the superiority of his group over pretty much any one who didn't fit his vvvvveeeerrrrryyyyy narrow definition of 'the right kind.' His was an equal opportunity intolerance. Jews, Moslems, blacks, Asians, physically or mentally challenged, and the list went on in the litany of hate that Kincaid sang in his bid to 'save America' for the 'right kind'.

Had this Sentinel been sucked in by the perverse patriotic spin Kincaid put to his hate campaign. Every day people were pulled into cults with a lot kookier leaders than the Sunshine Patriots. If he was misled to believe that he was indeed protecting the tribe he might not really be a bad guy. But…he had been willing to come up here with this neo Nazi parade for the express purpose of killing two innocent men, Jim and I. No… this guy might have enhanced senses, but just like Alex, he was not truly a Sentinel.

I tried to clear the fog from my head by shaking it…Wrong move! Stay still. That's the ticket, stay absolutely still and maybe my head won't fall off.

I must have fallen asleep sitting up because suddenly two weights settled on my shoulders and shook me, not hard, but enough to bobble my head and I'd already learned what a really bad idea that was. Someone moaned pitifully, and a second later I realized it was me.

My eyes had somehow become glued closed but I finally managed to crack them enough to squint at the dark blurred shape in front of me. I might have been worried that the bad guy had gotten loose and come after me, especially since I couldn't focus clearly. Yet I knew it was Jim. I had sensed him without question and as I blearily gazed up on my partner's face for a second I saw every detail of a superimposed image of a tanned face with sun bleached hair almost as long as mine and intricate tattoo's up muscled arms. Wow, cool. As hallucinations go, this was way neat!

Suddenly I was lifted bodily like a tiny child. Too tired to be alarmed I just let my vision fall where it would as my head lolled sideways to bump gently against a firm but padded surface.

A moment later I was lowered quickly but with infinite care onto something warm that shifted suddenly under me. Immediately a hand gently steadied me as Jim growled something like “stay still or so help me I'll just leave you out here tied up and let you freeze to death.” My head tried to think why Jim would threaten to leave me out here to freeze? I hadn't meant to move, someone carried me, and I thought it was him?

My confusion made my heart thud a bit faster in my now painfully heavy chest. I knew Jim would never just abandon me, but… A gloved hand stroked first across my forehead then down my cheek and in a very different tone than just moments before Jim's voice softly encouraged and soothed me. “Easy Chief. Everything's fine. Shhhh. Easy.” Warmth spread from that voice and worry fled before it.

“Thanks Jim.” I answered gratefully, except for some reason my lips wouldn't move and the tongue just laid like a lump, so all that came out was a sort of 'aangeem' sigh.

But I guess the big guy understood the intent if not the words cause the warm glove rested for a moment longer and his voice became fond and amused. “You're welcome, Buddy. Now rest. I've got the watch.”

A warm blanket was wrapped and tucked around my body and face until I must have resembled a papoose. I wondered when I'd acquired a wonderful fur lined parka, cause I was wearing one. The soft tufts extending from a hood around my head covered my ears with a wonderful warm that they hadn't felt in days.

The world started to move past me all by itself? But then I realized I was the one moving. It took an amazing amount of strength just to turn my head to the side. I was lying on something flat and metallic with an ugly green paintjob. Even thinking took energy I didn't seem to have because it was several seconds to realize Jim was using the Jeep hood as a makeshift travois.

Negotiating between a narrow pair of trees my conveyance tilted slightly and to weak to compensate I rolled slightly to find myself half on my side, face to face with Jim's Sentinel challenger lying next to me!

Memories of the fight just a short time ago spark a momentary adrenaline rush bringing my vision to sharp clarity. For the first time I saw the other clearly. I hadn't had time to look at him earlier when I'd been pulled from near coma by a scream like a big cats roar. A single word in Jim's voice.

“ Mine”?

I don't even remember dashing blindly through the sheets of snow flurries towards the sound. But within moments I'd heard the easy to recognize uproar of a fight in progress. I'd spotted an overturned green jeep and continued to run at full tilt. Arriving at the edge of an area where the brush was trampled down and a little thinner, I was just in time to see a towering behemoth rushing toward My Sentinel!

Jim was down. He'd looked dazed and totally unable to defend himself against the freight train bearing down on him that I knew had to be the other Sentinel. Not even pausing to think I pulled the last erg of energy I had left to speed up and aimed straight at the immense wall of meat stampeding toward my friend.

Barreling into the giant felt like going full tilt into a brick wall. Only the momentum of my weight at speed was enough to deflect his course. His own weight and momentum had then carried him into a nice solid tree trunk which provided just the kind of attitude adjustment I would wish on this King Kong wanna be who had hurt my Sentinel.

I'd grabbed a thick branch and in classic Neanderthal 101 style tried to continue the attitude adjustment, but the monster had gotten a hold of me and things had gotten reeaaalll fuzzy after that.

Flat, concrete colored eyes glared at me from a large, glowering face. With relief I noted that he was wrapped in even more bindings. Cords from the chutes were wrapped around him in several places so thick that he could have done stand in work for a movie mummy. Jim was taking no chances with this guy. I had to wonder how much was recognition of the huge guy's fighting potential, or a Sentinel's desire to totally neutralize any hazard this challenger presented.

Our car hood travois bobbled again and as we moved out of the trees back into the full force of the blizzard I suddenly found I could see nothing but white. The wind sucked what little warmth I'd begun to feel out of me like a leech and I silently prayed we'd make it to the cave fast. Just then the sense of movement vanished and Jim popped out of the white wet blowing around my face. His body kept the wind off me for a second as he adjusted another blanket over me, including my face. There was a trace of fear from the sudden darkness, but Jim's voice near my ear could be heard over the winds shriek. “Just five minutes Blair. We'll be at the cave in five buddy, count on it.” And with that promise all fear dissolved.

I don't really remember time passing, the noise stayed the same, the cold stayed the same, the dark stayed the same and where was I anyway??

Light flooded into my eyes as some kind of covering was pulled off my face. Oh yeah, Jim had put a blanket over my face to protect me from the snow on the way to… Umm, on the way to? Oh, who cares.

Now Jim has pulled my arms out in front of me, pulling me up to sit. I notice him wince slightly as he pulls and I try to think why but then the thought is lost to me. Then he Whoa, wheee, up into a fireman's carry over his shoulder. I can't seem to get my head to do anything but go where gravity takes it and I find myself staring at the fabric at the back of Jim's coat, real up close. Luckily the scenery changes before I can get bored and I'm being bobbled and swinging slightly as the snow is now several feet below where my head hangs. Then I'm looking down at Jim's heels on the cliff ledge by our cave. I sort of feel hands shift on me and then I'm pulled carefully back over his shoulder to be lowered to sit by the cave entrance. His hand is behind my head, cradling it to prevent it flopping back into the cliff wall.

I watch him through bleary, disconnected eyes as he shifts my ice barrier then he's stepped through into the cave. My head must have lolled forward because I can only see the zipper of my parka, I don't have a parka? Nice parka though, fur lined, nice… where'd I get a fur parka? Something snags my collar and I am dragged on my butt through the crevice into the warm confines of our makeshift home.

I'm lifted again and then immediately put down again on something warm by a blazing fire. Umm warm. An icy glove pushes wet fur away from my mouth and eyes and I see Jim's head floating above me like a balloon on a string. I should be alarmed; I mean where is the rest of Jim's body? But his voice is there, steady and reassuring. He's saying something, yeah, he's definitely talking. I feel the tone, warm and comforting and protective, but can't seem to actually understand the words themselves.

His voice stops for a bit and with its absence I am less comfortable. My head hurts; thudding with a regular rhythm that I recognize probably echoes my heart. And there is something large and heavy lying on my chest. I hope Jim comes back soon and removes the load because whatever it is seems to get heavier by the second and it's getting damn hard to breath.

I hear Jim's voice again, though his tone has changed back to a growl again. “I really don't need much of an excuse to leave you to the elements Ape. So you give me any trouble and they will be chipping you out of an ice floe next spring.” Again I heard mainly tone; words had kind of lost their ability to truly penetrate my sluggish brain.

More confused than alarmed this time I let my head fall to the side the voice was coming from. I couldn't focus very clearly still, but in the fire glow I could see Jim crouched next to our gift-wrapped guest who lay on his side on the dirt floor. My Sentinel was running a braided cord from the tied ankles to the wrists bound behind the bad guys back. Pulled up slightly they pretty much prevented the guy from trying to bring his wrists around his legs to his front. Not that someone as muscled as this guy would be that flexible, but Jim definitely was taking no chance with this huge bruiser.

I must have dropped off for a little while because the next time I noticed Jim was over by the fire, stoking the lames. Looking up as he finished I saw a smile grace his face as his eyes caught mine watching him. He moved back to my side and his mouth moved and more words came out, soft and soothing again. “Hey Chief. Eyes open again.” I didn't respond just sort of relaxed a little more within the sounds. A frown replaced the smile of moments before and more words floated over me. “You're not really all here right now buddy, are you? It's okay.” A bare hand stroked my face and I found the strength to turn slightly to push my cheek more firmly into that welcome caress.

A frustrated sigh now followed the confusing twirl of sound and tone. “I've got to go back out for a few minutes Chief. I hate to leave you with our friendly neighborhood Sentinel gorilla. But I've wrapped him as tight as humanly possible. He's not going anywhere. The blizzards going to get worse before it gets better. We could be here for a few days. This jerk had some things we're going to need. I have to go back to the jeep and salvage what I can.”

The hand withdrew from my cheek, slowly, reluctantly. I think I whimpered a little too. The voice started crooning gently, again senseless sounds made precious by their tone.

I tried to move my head to follow the dark shape that moved around me for a bit longer. But I just seemed to be unable to remember how to coordinate such an enterprise. Then there was only silence. Without the voice summoning my attention my tired brain and body ceased resisting the siren call of exhaustion. The darkness was warm, and welcoming and ………….

Shoving the last of my haul through the opening to the cave I finally followed it into the beaconing warmth and light. I peeled the woven ski mask gingerly off my face. The moisture from my breathing thru the fabric had frozen into ice that stuck to the flesh like superglue. Stomping my feet to both get the heavy snow from them and to hopefully return some of the vanished feeling, I stumbled over to the pallet by the fire and knelt by my partner.

He was still wrapped in all the layers of warmth available. The overturned jeep had proven a survival cornucopia. It had been packed with supplies. A sleeping bag, fur lined jacket, gloves, boots, ski masks, blankets, a camp stove, pots and pans, dish soap and a dozen other useful items had been packed in the vehicle. I'd cocooned Blair right off in the warmest garments in the pile. Unfortunately when the jeep had flipped the spare 5-gallon gas can strapped to the back had been pierced and spewed gasoline over some things that I could have really used. The first aide kit had been crushed and gasoline had saturated everything in it, so the small stock of aspirin, antibiotics and other valuable medications had been turned into a sludge of chemicals.

Typically the only automatic weapon I'd dug up in the vehicle had been bent almost double by the crash. But I had found a Glock handgun still in a leather holster in the snow near the jeep. Obviously the other Sentinel had had it on the seat when the jeep flipped. But there had been no extra clips. Worse, only one round remained in the gun. If the occasion arose to use it, I would make it count.

The small, short-range radio in the jeep's dash had also been wreaked. Not dwelling on the bad breaks I'd stripped everything I felt might increase Blair and my chances as quickly as I could. Loading my trove on the hood sled I'd then dropped a match in the back of the wreak. The spilled gas had evaporated some but there was still plenty to fuel a good blaze. The flames swooshed hungrily through the interior, the windows blew out a moment later. Fed fresh oxygen the flames leapt out only to be beat down and extinguished as soon as they left the confines of the jeep into the swirling maelstrom of the snowstorm. Even the billows of black oily smoke where blown off, diluted and pelted down before they could rise very far.

If after the storm Kincaid's men found the vehicle I wanted it to look like it had burned on impact and maybe his man had wondered off in the blizzard and died. I didn't want to give any inkling of the fact that our hideaway was just a few dozen yards away.

I had managed my salvage operation in less than forty-five minutes. And then a quick side trip to a willow tree I spotted. But plowing back through the snow I had felt like I'd been out there for hours. I was tired, cold, in pain and my senses were starting to go haywire. I'd made the trip back to the cave at almost a run. I needed to be with My Guide, especially with the other Sentinels scent still in my nose.

Kneeling by him now I re-keyed all my senses to him, finding it easy to control them now that I was beside him. And the results were not encouraging. His lungs had crinkles and bubbling sounds of the rales and rhonchi of advanced pneumonia. The paleness of most of his face contrasted starkly with the bright red fever flush of his cheeks. His hair and the fur lining of the parka was plastered to his face by the sweat pouring off him. His normal scent was even more soured then before by a harsh tang of sickness.

Pushing down the emotions caused by seeing my friend like this, I locked into the 'get the job done' Ranger Medic mode. Stoking the fire with even more wood I soon had the cave as warm as possible. Using the camp stove and the fire I filled all the scavenged pots and pans with snow that I melted and brought to a near boil.

Taking the willow bark I'd collected I carefully prepared it as Sandburg had taught me so patiently that time we'd gone camping and I'd come down with a mild fever. We'd lost our stocked first aid kit to a river crossing and Blair had insisted I use the 'natural' aspirin concoction rather then just wait until we got back to the city. He'd made it and then made me drink it. Uggh. The things I do for My Guide.

Once I had several draughts of the 'tea' ready I took one dose and carefully lifted my non-responsive partner up into a sitting position. Moving to sit behind him I let him lie back slightly to rest against my chest as I moved my arm around him to bring the cup to his lips.

When the first moist drops of the liquid passed his lips my fever parched friend took a deep eager gulp. Then the flavor hit. There is nothing quite as bitter as willow bark tea. At least when he'd made it for me he'd added honey to blunt some of the bite. I had nothing to sweeten his with.

Though his eyes never opened, his whole face scrunched up and his lips pursed as I tried to pour a little more of the fluid into his mouth. “Ngguh.” He mumbled and made weak little spitting noises.

“Come on Chief. Drink it all, you need to listen to me here.” I wheedled gently as I tilted the cup even more, flooding his mouth so reflex took over and he swallowed again. But now he was so agitated that he found the strength to bring up an arm to bat at the cup like it was full of poison. When I grabbed the one flailing hand the other one quickly took its place and I was one hand short. The only way I could get both his hands restrained was to put down the cup. As soon as I did that he immediately quieted, though his tongue kept coming out between his grimaced lips and he kept trying to spit.

“Brother! Sandburg, I have a lot more respect for Naomi. Getting you to take medicine as a kid must have been a real challenge.” But moving quickly I grabbed both of my partner's hands in one of mine, scooped up the cup with the other and pressed the remaining fluid to his lips. He tried to twist his face away, squirmed like he was made of Play Dough and seemed to be five places at once. But I watched like a predator watches prey and as soon as his mouth and the cup where headed toward each other I leaned forward, trapping his head between my own head and shoulder. Momentarily immobilized I managed to spill and pour the rest of the fever medicine in, on and over him.

Shaking my head as I unraveled from around him I watched him sputter and spit for a little bit as I carefully lowered him back to recline in the blankets again. Though his eyes fluttered open once or twice they never focused and they glistened with the eerie shine of complete disorientation.

I felt eyes on me and the hair on the back of my neck rose. Growling I spun to stare down the other Sentinel who was watching Blair, and my caring for him. Considering he was bound and pretty much helpless, the gray rock chips that where the others eyes held only challenge and threat.

“Dat be yur Seer? So liddle an weak.” He smirked as I moved to block his view of Blair. “Bare beeger dan my Seer, an he be a hav gron boy. Beggarz nah be choozerz, huh Ellizon?

” Snarling I moved forward, desperately needing to throttle this arrogant beast who dared to deride My Guide! By shear force of will I managed to stop short of homicide. But the thought of this challenger's eyes on my partner, now and with what I needed to do next, was intolerable.

When I suddenly moved toward him again I saw doubt in his eyes, he was wondering if I was finally going to finish him, as he would have done to me. Instead a thick strip of folded parachute was wrapped around his eyes and secured behind his head. Once the blindfold was in place I felt slightly less edgy.

Now I began to gather supplies for what I felt needed to be done for the comfort of my friend and partner.

Moving the warm water next to Blair I carefully stripped him of all his layers of clothing. I had to dial down my sense of smell as too many days of exertion, illness and no shower had left Sandburg's regular scent rank and sour. Even though the cave was now quite toasty I took no risk with drafts, wrapping him in a clean blanket.

I put a few pieces of his clothes in one of the hot water pots with dish soap to soak. With the rest of the water I thoroughly washed my partner. Starting with his face I gently scrubbed away days of grime, sweat and sickness. I even used his knife to carefully shave off the five-day beard he'd grown and made him look like a teenager again.

The heat poured off him and at first he seemed upset by the handling. But as the warm water and my gentle massaging strokes soothed aching muscles he became more and more relaxed.

For a moment I seemed to lose myself in my senses as they latched onto Sandburg even more then they usually did. I felt the texture of his skin, the soft fur of hair that covered so much of his torso. The ridges and hard angles of muscles and tendons that hide a remarkable strength. My eyes zoomed in to identify familiar and new landmarks. My hands going unbidden to several news cuts and scars I spotted that had not been there before our past week in hell. My thumb stroked over them with an odd distress that I had to shake off with effort. The sounds of him filled my ears. The gurgle of his stomach, the whoosh slap of the blood racing through his veins, the hitch and wheeze of his congested lungs, again triggering distress that only eased when I latched on to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, soothing and hypnotic. I noticed I was leaning forward, pulled by that cadence toward him. I shook myself free from the odd compulsion that held me.

I had finished Sandburg's front upper body by now, and pulled him up to a sitting position to scrub his back. As I did he began to mutter in a steady litany of soothing but totally nonsensical sounds. One of his hands found my upper arm and started to gently stroke and pat it, somehow feeling the need to comfort me in return.

I looked down into his strained and pale face and was surprised to see a soft contented smile on that kind visage. His eyes drifted open suddenly and snapped hold of me. He really saw me and in that second I saw all that I was to him shining in those deep blue eyes. The fever had cut away all the carefully maintained facades of mature reserve, embarrassment or shyness. It was all laid out there for me… and it was the most humbling and terrifying thing I had ever seen.

How could a person possibly become another's universe? Blair was no rudderless nobody looking for someone to give him purpose. No sycophant trying to shine in the reflection of another. He was smart, popular, and very much his own man. Yet I saw that this exceptional young man's solar system had me squarely at its nexus. I was all that he had searched for and finally found. Brother, friend, partner and sacred Sentinel. When we had met he had called me his 'Holy Grail', but I had thought he was being facetious, but in those eyes now devoid of any subterfuge I knew to him it was so.

I froze, held helpless by the weight of such a gift. Blair's smile filled with even greater joy and then his eyes drifted closed, releasing me from my thrall. Extending my hand I touched my fingertips to his eyelids, feather light. Breathing out a soft sigh of gratitude I whispered, “Feelings mutual Chief.”

It took me almost an hour to thoroughly wash and dry my spaghetti limp Guide. Then I followed suit and cleaned myself. Finishing up I washed both of our clothes as best I could and lined them around the fire to dry.

Once he was warmly nested in the clean sleeping bag, I moved to our stock of food. Taking the rabbit I set to making some more thick broth. I also roasted a couple more of Blair's 'tubers' and after tasting them, sliced one of the more potato tasting ones into a stew I was preparing from some of the pheasant. I set them on the rocks near the fire to let them steep and stay warm.

Suddenly out of things to distract myself with I found I was pacing back and forth from one side of the cave to the other. I continued with that useless exercise until I noticed that my path was between My Guide and the foreign Sentinel. Obviously on a level I wasn't quite aware of I still felt the other was a threat to My Guide.

Stopping just in front of the pallet Sandburg slept on I faced my instinctive enemy. Extending my senses I realized that at some point the giant had fallen asleep. Considering the constricting way I had bound him it was miraculous that he'd managed it. But having been out in that weather for several hours he must have been pretty exhausted. Not that it had slowed him much in the fight. But once past the combat his body had demanded rest. But I was glad. The thought of him was like sandpaper on my nerves. Even blindfolded he could still hear and smell My Guide and for whatever reason that was, it was intolerable!

I moved to lie down next to Blair, still positioning myself between him and the giant. In spite of being tired I was loath to sleep with the enemy literally in the camp. But the soldier and tactician in me knew that a tired man makes mistakes. Rest was necessary, I would rest.

Using the soft thup, thup, thup of Sandburg's heart as an anchor I sent out my hearing the way he had taught me. Filtering through each sound around me I set myself to awake at any change. With a last check of my partner I let my exhaustion carry me into sleep.

I had slept for roughly four hour's when my internal alarm reacted to a variation in my surroundings. Concentrating, I listened to the increase in Sandburg's pulse. Rolling over almost nose-to-nose with him I was rewarded to see his eyes open and alert.

Reaching out my senses I felt the fever, though still present, was much reduced. His lungs were still full of wet, bubbly noises but his breathing was a less labored. “Hey Jim.” He croaked in a tiny whisper as he smiled at me. His throat was sore but even as cracked and broken as it sounded I felt relief to hear that voice.

“Hey Chief.” I said back at him and then rolled over and went to the fire. Grabbing the broth and stew I was back at his side in a blink. Seeing him struggle to try to sit up I put the pots down grabbed one of the packs and used it to prop him up.

He just then noticed his clean-shaven face. His voice again broke like a pre teens as he whispered a delighted, “I'm clean!” Then he looked down and blushed. “I'm naked!” Seeing the drying wash around the fire he nodded in understanding. He pulled the sleeping bag and blanket a little tighter around himself and smiled up at me. “Clean is good, I was starting to smell like old tennis shoes, it must have been even worse for you.” He tried unsuccessfully to get the long sentence out without gasping too much. He didn't succeed. It would be a bit yet before he'd be up to his trademark run on sentences.

“Okay buddy, food then medicine or medicine then food?” I asked, as I poured another draught of willow bark tea and placed it beside the pot.

He looked at each container for a second then shook his head at me. “I'm not really hungry” his barely audible voice climbed the scale to crack on the last syllable. He coughed and then continued. “And my fevers better. I'll pass on both okay Jim?” He hit me with a weary smile.

I have had way too much experience with Sandburg's distraction tactics. Moving closer I grabbed one of his hands and shoved the tea into his grasp. “That is not one of the choices Chief.” I growled insistently. “You WILL eat and you WILL take the medicine. Your only choice is the sequence of events.” My glare should have intimidated him at least a little, but of course it didn't.

I saw the stubbornness drop like a curtain across his expression. His lips pressed together in an obstinate line and he tried to set the cup of tea down. But I wrapped my hand around his and the cup and steered it back up toward his mouth. The situation deteriorated into a weird arm wrestling match but Sandburg's strength had been wiped out so I quickly won.

For future reference pushing a cup full of liquid into an unconscious fever-wracked anthropologist's mouth is incredibly difficult, doing it to an alert anthropologist is down right impossible. Just like earlier I had a squirming struggling wrestling match on my hands and this time there was no way to outmaneuver my smaller and more flexible friend. He just kept his lips firmly closed and the tea sloshed everywhere.

Just when I was really starting to lose patience entirely a booming laugh came from the end of the cave. Then a snide and loathsome voice grated out. “Well Hunder, I may no see you be mad dah fool by a weeg liddle mouze, but my earz dey hear! You no can control one so small? My Seer do az he be tol an nod hav be tol twice!” And that hateful laugh again.

I don't even remember the next few seconds, but between one heartbeat and the next I was suddenly across the space between us and had hauled off and punched the big man. He was out cold from the one shot but my hand bunched his jacket front, I was just drawing back for a second blow when I squeaky high pitched, “Jim!” brought me back to myself.

I looked down into the senseless blindfolded face of my enemy and felt ill with conflict. Right then a part of me wanted to kill him, even though he was

bound and helpless. The soldier part of me was pragmatic enough to reason that keeping the man alive was going to decrease Blair and my chances ten fold. Even if Kincaid didn't find us, how could we hope to get ourselves down the mountain with a dangerous captive in tow?

Suddenly Sandburg burst into wheezing, squeaking, coughing laughter. It had to be the fever? But looking at him I saw that he was smiling that loony smile of his. For real!

“Hey, the man's right.” He squeaked in that whispery cracked voice. “I sound just like a mouse, Mickey Mouse!” And he went off in another peal of off key and broken guffaws that sounded painful to my ears much less his throat. The exertion was too much of a strain on his burdened lungs and he began a harsh hacking cough that had me panicking as he turned pale and shook from the effort.

Moving to him immediately I pushed the broth into his hands and helped him steady himself enough to sip the warm fluid. After a few gulps the coughing eased and after a few more, stopped entirely. But I could see that just that little bit of activity had totally depleted him. He didn't so much lean back as fall back on the support of the pack behind him.

“Wheww!” He whispered in a little less cracked voice. “This is like sooo not fun.” Looking into my worried face he carefully reached for the cup of willow bark tea and lifted it shakily to his mouth and pinching his nose took three deep gulps. Immediately his face pulled into something like those apple core dolls, all shriveled and wrinkled and his eyes teared through their squeezed shut lids and he turned a little green like he was going to throw up.

Quickly handing him the broth again I balanced the container as he desperately pulled it to his lips and began to chug a lug down swallow after swallow. Apparently the broth eventually washed away the taste of the tea, or he ran out of air, because with a gasp he lowered the broth pot to clunk hard on the ground beside him.

“Man Jim. That stuff is vile! The tea, not the broth.” He continued to work at just breathing for a little longer then he settled back and stared around the cave, noticing the additional equipment. His eyebrows climbed. “Where'd ya find the store big guy?”

Cocking my head toward our unwelcome guest I told him of my foray to salvage the jeep. Snuggling even further into the sleeping bag I saw him turn to study the giant. Sure enough the light of curiosity replaced the exhaustion in his eyes and I watched the thousand questions begin to form. But he must have seen something in my own gaze, maybe jealousy, because he turned his full attention back to focus on me.

“You okay Jim?” The question spoke of concern not only for my physical but emotional well-being. Was he remembering the head-trip Alex took me, and him, on? Or was he wondering how much stress having a challenger not ten feet from My Guide was causing.

“Doin' okay Chief.” I answered, but added an honest “Just not happy with our uninvited guest.”

His hand came to my arm in the softest of touches, yet warmth, confidence and absolute commitment flooded through that contact. “He's just another bad guy Jim. He may be enhanced, but he's not a real Sentinel. Not like you.” His voice had become an even softer whisper, not breaking as much now. “Maybe that's why he and Alex didn't end up with anyone to help them with their senses. They were selfish and misused their gifts, got exiled from the tribe. And without the tribe to provide candidates for Guides they never found the help to realize their full potential.”

“Dat be flad ouu lie mouze!” The bellow caused Sandburg to jump and me to spin snarling to face the giant who was rolling and straining against his bonds. Damn, the giant was already conscious again. As I surged forward to put him down, again, Sandburg caught my arm and barked a harsh, “No Jim. Leave him.”

If any of the dozen or so restraints on the big man would have failed just then I would have pummeled the challenger into paste before risking him breaking free and getting to Sandburg. But everything held and so I let myself be hauled back by the feather light tug from my partner.

Moving the blanket around his shoulders a bit so that it was now a cape, he held up the edge and motioned me to his side. Grinding my teeth in frustration I found myself moving into the space next to him and felt the warmth of his arm and the blanket on my shoulder. Shifting a little he scrunched up close to me and pulled the blanket tighter around both our upper bodies. Having him this close, my senses again filled with him, leeched most of the stress from me and left me overwhelmed with a sense of satisfaction. Some primitive hidden part of my mind was chanting a contented litany… 'mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.

“Why a lie mister? Hey! What is your name anyway?” Blair's voice squeaked up and down the scale but he ignored his own discomfort to satisfy that insatiable curiosity of his. With him safely at my side and the weight of the Glock in my pocket I was able to cope with the inevitability of My Guide studying the other man.

“You know nothin mouze. I be Abel Chasseur an I did fine my Seer. I have a clan an my Seer was nod among zhem. He be a cidy boy who end up in duh back country of Saguenay becauze his Mame an Dah's liddle plane crash dere.”

The huge man's voice roared with rage and loss yet he did nothing to struggle against the bonds that confined him.

“You have a guide, I mean Seer?” Blair's whispered question was innocently spoken, but I remembered what Sandburg hadn't heard in the woods. (Mine was taken from me when I was too young and small to win the fight to keep him.)

I had expected an explosion, but instead Abel just stiffened. “No mowh. My Seer he be daken by anodder Hunder when hiz own Seer die.” And then the hair on the back of my neck rose, as the big man seemed to focus on my partner right thru the blindfold. His stance was pure predator, nostrils flared, and his need almost palatable.

As a growl swelled in my throat I felt the arm around my shoulder withdraw and then a warm hand settled on my forearm. “There is no contest here Jim.” Blair's voice had fallen into the guide tones he used to pull me from a zone. “I'm not looking to change career's man. I like you, teaching and being the Shaman of the Great City.” His hand stroked unconsciously back and forth on my arm, and magically the necessity to rip the other man's head off and dance in his blood faded.

“I'm sorry Abel.” Sandburg's compassionate nature let him honestly mean it. “It was unfair of me to assume. I can only imagine what it was like to go through so many years without someone to help you with your haywire senses.”

It was strange sitting there talking to another Sentinel with Jim right next to me. I could feel my friend's tension thrumming like a too tight wire stretched between us. He didn't like anything about the situation. What was odd was even though I felt sorry for Abel, and curious as hell, I also felt an impulse to avoid him that I don't think had anything to do with his being one of Kincaid's men. On some instinctive level that I couldn't quite decipher I think I believed what Jim had implied. This guy's lack of a guide might actually provoke some weird behavior, like trying to force me to help him.

I analyzed that idea. I mean I might be reading something into the situation because of my unpleasant experience with Alex. But then again she didn't try using me so much as a guide, just a quick fix, and then her only priority had been to keep Jim off balance.

But I study people for a living and everything about Abel Chasseur's body language and attitude screamed threat. That Jim also read the signals being given off by the other was obvious in his own body language. I figure he didn't even notice the steady soft growl that vibrated softly from his rigid form. All he needed to finish the image of a furious big tomcat spoiling for a fight was a tail twitching angrily.

But though I noticed that my interaction with Abel was somehow aggravating my partner's stress, as a responsible scientist I just couldn't pass up the opportunity I had here. From the few clues I had already realized that Abel had had his enhanced senses uninterrupted since his youth. And judging from what he had said he also had come across at least one other Sentinel in his life.

Keeping one hand on Jim's forearm to comfort my own fears and to also communicate my unquestioning bond to him, I turned my attention to the bound giant.

For some reason the blindfold on Abel bothered me. Perverse as it sounds tying him up like a mummy made sense but I was uncomfortable with blindfolding someone when they were already helpless? Go figure.

“Jim…can he have the blindfold off?” I asked tentatively. It was important that I defer to Jim's greater knowledge and experience in the cop scenario, as well as his Sentinel instincts. But my ability to tell what was really going on in someone's head came from what showed in their eyes. The blindfold was a disconcerting distraction that I really wanted out of the picture.

Jim's eyes move from the bound man to me then back to Abel. “As long as he behaves it's okay. But don't start with any other comfort measures. He stays tied at all times. Clear?”

“Crystal man!” I responded as best I could with my voice cracking every few syllables. I'd been fourteen the last time my voice had been this erratic. Hopefully the fever and sore throat would ease up soon, just thinking about some more of Jim's willows bark toxic soup made me nauseous.

Jim moved from under the blanket at my side to Abel in a couple of strides. Having to strain a little my partner tugged the bigger man into an upright sitting position with his back to the wall. Then the blindfold was snatched off and Jim quickly stomped back to my side and returned to his previous place. Even though he was stretched out beside me there was no mistaking that he was primed and on guard.

Unconsciously I studied Abel as he blinked a few times and winced as the fires glow triggered a momentary spike in his enhanced vision after so long in darkness. But then his sight settled down to normal and he speared me with those slate gray eyes. I definitely preferred Jim's sapphire blue eyes to this guy's. I had seen Jim with fury, rage, hate, and every conceivable