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 negative emotion in his eyes at one time or another. But somehow the gray eyes that stared at me now seemed infinitely colder and harder than my friend's at their worst.

Taking a couple of slow, even breaths, being careful not to inhale deeply enough to trigger a coughing spell, I decided to go at this in a direct, no nonsense manner.

“Abel, I would really like to know your story.” I tried to tone my weak, cracking voice to relay the non-judgmental interest of an academic. “I have made a study of people with enhanced senses, what you refer to as Hunter's, but I call Sentinel's. I would like to understand what it was like for you. There is very little information on people with all five senses hyped up.”

I was sincere in my interest and I guess the big man sensed that. Or maybe he was just bored sitting there like a stuffed turkey and decided to talk to burn some time. Or it might be that even though I sounded like a Disney character, my request was pitched in Guide tone. Whatever the reason he stared hard at me for an uncomfortable minute. He then shifted his gaze and attention to some point in the darkness at the cave's back, seeing some other time and remembered events.

“My fam'ly dey nod hol wit modern folk an cidy wayz. We an zeveral odder clan live in dah deep wood nort by Saguenay. We ad no lectric, or roads, no school even. The government dinna know we be back dere an no one botter us. My Mame she teach me an several odder children from duh clan, we ate what we catch, grow or gaddered.”

“My people be respected for gen'ration cauze da Hunder gift be in many in my fam'ly. My Granpap say 'is Nanna Claire hear an smell bedder dan him, but he feel an see more. My liddde brodder look to have duh gifts to, maybe even more dan me, but I don be sure. He die before he be four year old when fever come to duh valley.” The hardness of the gray eyes melted some at the recalled grief. It was obvious there had been affection for the little boy so early taken away.

“I be sixdeen when duh gift god strong but wit no control. When I just a wee child I only hear, see, feel, taste or smell maybe twize as good az odder folk, an not no problem to control. When dey starded to grow day by day dey alzo god harder to uze. Granpap he be duh law in our liddle town. He says dis be normal, says it ged bedder when I fin a Seer, den I be 'is deb'uty. Mame, she took to arrangin' long meetinz wit everyone in duh clan, hopin' one become my Seer. But dey all smell wrong, sound wrong, make my head ache. When I talk 'boud ow bad it geddin Granpap tell me be patient, every Hunder find der Seer sooner or lader. Bud Granpap already god 'is Seer, one of dah clan he know zince dey be able to walk. Alzo 'is gift never be az strong as mine be geddng, an he nod ged sudden black fitz where he juz freeze an nod know where he be. Dah only one could wake me in duh dark fit be Granpap's Seer.” Those eyes swept back onto me at this point, measuring me, maybe comparing me to someone he was remembering.

“Henry be smard, always fig'rin. He learn read, write, an had read every book 'e could ged holt of. An he love my Granpap zomethin' fierce.” There was a bit of awe in the deep, gravelly voice. “My Mame she tell me onez mountain cat dey be huntin' double back an pounze. Henry, he jump between Granpap an duh big cat clawz. He be hurd bad fore my Granpap kild duh an'mal. Henry near bled to death. ButGranpap he carry him all duh way from duh high wood, an stay wit him when he got duh fever when duh woundz dey fess'der.”

It took all the professional reserve I had to control my excitement. If this story was true the things that it implied. Issues of genetics, self-inhibiting protective controls, instinctive bonds and mutual protective streaks, all screamed for immediate closer examination.

But I knew if I hopped up, tried to get close to Abel and start grilling him for more details, two things would happen. One, the giant would probably clam up tight. And two, Jim would probably explode.

So instead I did one of the hardest things for me. I kept my mouth shut and stayed still. But man was it hard!

My attention zoomed back to the subject at hand when I noticed differences to the tone and pace of the story. It was easy to pick out first wonder and then growing aggression as Abel's voice pitched deeper and deeper.

“When I juz turn sevendeen an duh fitz be comin more an more I fin'lly could nod bear to be roun folk no mow. I be drownin in sound an light an smell. Everythin hurt! So I head up duh mountain, nod carin if I live or die.”

“Den zomethin drew me furdder an furdder up duh mountain. I still don know why, bud I had to keep climbin. Den I fine duh crash plane. I nev'r seen one oudzide of books back den. Id be one of dem liddle propeller onez, only four coud fit in. Duh woman an two men ha been dead for maybe two dayz. Bud in duh back seat, wit hardly a scratch on 'im be Davy.” Awe and longing were in that voice. Even if the guy seemed hard as nails now, once he had loved, and obviously from the unhidden grief, lost.

“He juz sit der starin ad 'is Mame an Dah like dey wake up any time. When I try to pull him oud of duh plane he fougd…hard. He be only 'leven bud he fougd like a demon. Bud he make no zound. don cry, don yell, don talk. Juz stare. He ged free ah me an wend righ bag to where he'd ben sittin an no move. Bud whil I be wrestlin wit im I notize 'is scent. Id be special scent, duh scent I smell only on Henry up til den. Davy be a Seer! I reg'ognize dat he be menn to be My Seer.”

“I don know wha to do. He can na stay der bud 'ow to ged him to come wit me. I lit a fire an spen dah wholl nidd juz siddin by duh plane talkin to im. Firss I juz said duh trutt. Hiz people dead an he could na stay wit dem no moe. He did na even seem to ear me. But I kep on an on. I en up talkin aboud my gift an dat I knew he be a Seer an dat I ad waid for im for a lonn time. I toll im I need im an would na leave im, no madder whad.”

The heartfelt determination in the giants voice tore at me. In a nutshell he was expressing the same feelings Jim and I shared. How could the compassionate teenager he spoke of grow into someone siding with an extremist like Kincaid?

“Dah nex mornin I dig graves an bury dah aduls, wit Davy watchin me dah wholl time. He still na speag ad all. When duh las rock be zet over duh las grave Davy juss stan up, walk ov'r to me an put his han in mine. I fel everythin fall in place, like he be a missin pard of me dat I had na even know to miss. An my senses na be up an down an all over duh plaze for monthz juz seddle righ down.”

“We go home duh negs day. From den on we nev'r speag of 'ow he come, or 'is fam'ly. It be dayz fore he zay a word, an it like he be born dayz before. Dat day forwar he be my liddle brodder Davy. Alwayz wit me, could na bear to even stay behin when I be hundin, dough duh soun of gunz spook im bad.”

“For tree monz we be cloz az twinz. Davy smar to. Henry help im wit how to help me to learn to pull my giftz an do moe an moe. He be juz 'leven bud he alwayz worry 'boud me. I figure oud dat when he na roun I soomdime still fall indo doz fitz, he be duh lighd oud of duh darkness.” His voice went suddenly down to a mere whisper that I could barely catch. “My lighd…”

So much sadness in those two words. And suddenly I knew the resolution of the story was not going to be something I wanted to hear. But working hard to keep my scientific subjectivity I kept silent and after a moment Abel continued. I noticed that his accent was getting thicker the deeper he was drawn into his memories.

“Den Henry he be kill in a fire when Granpap an im try to save a frienz babe in a burnin cabin. An wit Henry gon Granpap ee go strange. Ad firs ee juz sid an sid. Ee nod eaa or dring or speag. Silen… I dink ee wanna die. Den he ged up, zay ee goin go be wit Henry. I know ee mean go inda wood an nah com bah. Loogin in 'is eyez I see ee iz die inzid already, an maybe a liddle mad wit greev.”

It was odd to see fear in the gray flinty eyes of the huge man as he remember a long ago time, forgetting entirely his audience's presence. He was a boy again dealing with a pivotal moment in his life.

“But Davy…” Those gray chips flashed with the desperate desire to somehow halt the remembered moment, turn events in a different direction.

“Davy, ee zee Granpap urtin an wanna elp. Ee juz wanna elp!” Now his eyes turned back toward Jim and I, but no challenge in them any longer. The only way to describe what I saw in the giants gaze was an almost child like cry for help. Begging us to somehow understand and change history.

“Ee juz wanna elp.” He said again while shaking his head in despair. “Bud Granpap, ee nod zane no moe. Davy ee step ub to Granpap an juz pud 'is and on Granpap's arm. Ee is ped im like a kidden, gennel an soff. Bud id be like 'lectric curren. Like a spark. An thah sudd'n Granpap grab Davy an scream Davy be hiz! Hiz Seer! Hiz? Davy ee try talg wit Granpap. Tell im dat ee whan stay wit me, dat ee need me an I need im! But Granpap nod imsel no moe. Ee wonn led Davy go from 'is side. Alwayz god a holl of 'im. Davy talk an cry bud Granpap won led go. So Davy say ee go wid Granpap undil ee come roun to imsel. Bud it nod ged bedder, it ged worz.”

“Ee nev'r led Davy be oud of' is sigh. Ev'r! Davy cry all da time now, wannin me, bud now when I come anwhere near Davy Granpap chaze me way. Say Davy hiz an he won led me near im. My gifts, dey go crazy agin an I av to sneeg to see Davy. Bud Granpap smell me on Davy. Ee 'it Davy an tell im ee do worz if ee caag im wit me gin.”

“For zix weeg dis go on. I try talg wit im, I try steel Davy 'way, bud nodding worg. So I go afder Granpap. I sed trap afder trap to ged im. Bud ee be smart an crazy. An ev'ry day Davy sem farder an farder away from me. Liig ee nod min be wit Grandpap. Sudd'n I am craze wit rage. I wan kill Granpap for wha ee do to My Seer!”

“I go avder Granpap wit everythin I god. I know I hav to save Davy, hav to. Bud Granpap, ee is to strong an ee bead me down. Ee near kill me, bud Davy ee jum on Granpap an make im stob. Ee tell im dat ee stay wit im if ee don kill me.”

“I tell Davy no, dat I ave to win, ave to ave im wit me. Bud Davy say no, dat I could na bead Granpap. Ee say he belong wit Granpap an see me no moe. I try to see im many times. My gifts dey all crazy an my ead always urts. Bud Davy nod go agin Granpap any moe, ee tell me I godda learn to be wid oud 'im. I can nod feel im in ead no moe liig I ad befor. I see in 'is eyez, ee ave no fate in me no moe. I ave fail im, ee waz na my Seer no moe. Granpap nev'r led me near im from den on.

“Az time go by, wit oud Davy, my giftz dey juz go crazy. On an off dey fade back to whad dey are when I be juz a boy. Soomdime dey be so big dey mag me go nuds. I ave to take pills to stob da pain. I know I godda leave or die. I god people in New O'lens zo I go der, be an Am'rican.

Suddenly his gaze became sharp as a laser as it lands on me again. But the earlier vulnerability that I had seen was now replaced with that predatory gleam again.

“An duh gifzt, I nod much tink aboud dem, dey ardly eve'r a'peer bud to make me crazy. Til I come to dis mountain. Den afder all des yearz sudd'n I senze sometin. Sudd'n my senzes dey all come back. An den I see dis ghos cat. Faint ad firz, big an black. Bud I know den dat der be anodder Hunder roun. An when I smell you I smell dah odder smell, like Henry an Davy. I know dere be anodder Seer. I did na tink I mizz duh giftz of duh Hunder, bud now wit dem bag I know I did mizz dem. I wanna be a Hunder agin an I need a Seer.”

I listened to Abel's story with both chagrin at the unfortunate circumstances of his youth and a thrill each time I recognized something that confirmed some theory that I had about Sentinel's and Guides. The Guide in me was shocked at the unbelievable actions of the Grandfather, taking another Sentinels Guide. And as a scientist I was astonished at the implications of the number of Sentinels of various levels of skill produced by this one bloodline. After Jim and I got out of our current mess I'd have to find Abel's valley and study his 'clan'.

Yeah. I'd have other enhanced people maybe to base my original dissertation on so I could turn it in without risking anyone figuring out Jim was a Sentinel. It would also save me a hell of a lot of work since I was currently preparing two separate diss presentations. My Sentinel studies would never see the light of day if Jim remained my primary subject, so I was concurrently preparing my 'thin blue line' paper just in case. If I could convince Abel's clan to let me get some data on them and their history I could just complete the Sentinel diss confirming Burton's work and achieving my life's dream in the process.

I was just descending deeper into my plans for getting time off from Rainier for a jaunt to Saguenay when I felt myself drawn back to the here and now by a heat around me that had nothing to do with my fever or the nearby fire. Abel was still completely focused on me. And glancing up I saw Jim completely focused on me. And damn if both of them didn't look like they were starved and I was a big juicy steak. The low growl in Jim's throat was really audible now and as his eyes met mine I saw a fear and need that broke my heart.

Even after all this time, Jim's prior history of abandonment left him with a fear so deeply rooted that he wondered if I would be drawn away by my research to study another Sentinel. I will always believe that that was part of the whole disaster with Alex. Smelling her scent on me some part of him had been sure that I was leaving him for her. Now he could see that I was anxious to study Abel. Abel who was his enemy.

Duh Sandburg! I felt the impulse to reach up and hit myself in the head. With all the stress Jim was under he didn't need me going all science nerd on him. He needed to understand that my priority would always be him. I was HIS Guide and his only.

I reach up not to touch his arm this time, but brush the back of my hand along his cheek. In a moment the growl sound switches to a purr and he tilts his face to press against my hand. “I may want to study this guy Jim.” I affirm in my creaky voice. “But I will NEVER be his Guide. You are MY Sentinel, mine alone.” Weirdly the last statement came out with a serious growl from me? Whoa? Hanging out with the testosterone charged guys at major crimes must be rubbing off! All I know is I had this wild possessive flash when I would have torn apart any challenger who tried to take Jim away from me! Like I said… weird huh?

A deep, threatening growl came from the giant across the cave, “No!” Like two heads of the same animal Jim and I turned from looking at each other to glare at Abel. Before my partner could move or speak my own surprisingly steady bark declared unshakably my loyalties.

“Shut up Abel! I'm sorry you lost your guide… I am. You only had a guide for three months and think about how you felt when he was taken. Yet there you sit. Implying that you would and could try to take me from Jim who I have been with for over four years! You come up here with Kincaid who is a racist, anti-Semite, terrorist. Did it occur to you that even if you somehow separated Jim and I that I would never live to be your 'Seer'? Kincaid isn't up here to find us and pat us on the head. I'm Jewish and Jim's a cop, we've put him in jail twice. What do you think he'll do when he catches me?”

“I wod protegd you!” Abel's statement was so ludicrously confident. He really thought that now that he was this huge, strong behemoth that if he had a second chance at a guide that this time he could hold onto him.

Shaking my head at such a blatant denial of our situation I glared steadily at this man who outweighed me by over a hundred pounds and snorted derisively. “Like Hell! Kincaid isn't going to arm-wrestle you for me. He or one of his retarded gun totting cronies will take one of those fancy automatic weapons you all haul around and blow me out of my boots! Is that who you are Abel? If you are, then you are no true Sentinel. Jim is a Sentinel, one of the best. He uses his gifts for his tribe. Sentinel's and their Guides protect! Before he lost Henry your Grandfather protected your whole community. He understood. Henry died to save one of your neighbors. He understood. Davy stayed with your Grandfather to save you. He understood. That's what Sentinels and Guides do…they protect!”

It took all my breath to say all that and then a stupid coughing spell hit and I felt absolutely wiped out. Geez things were bad when just talking exhausted me. Jim was holding me tightly to him with his hand solicitously patting and scrubbing circles on my back until the coughs ceased. Then he gently shifted me so my back was against his chest and my head cradled on his shoulder. For a moment he leaned his cheek across my curls and whispered a gentle. “Enough Chief. You rest. He doesn't get it and you can't make him see it.” His hand came up and gently brushed hair from my forehead then ghosted down to my eyelids, exerting feather touches to encourage them to close. “Sleep buddy. Sleep and get well.” His voice was so warm and soothing, no lullaby more comforting…

His breathing steadied and his heartbeat returned to an even rhythm as sleep reclaimed him. I looked down into his face, feeling the flush of fever not completely extinguished by the tea. He needed more rest and warmth. Pulling the blanket and my arms more tightly around him I hugged him to my chest willing my own warmth and strength into him.

I had plenty of warmth right now. When I'd seen him listening to Abel's story, enrapt, I had felt jealous and afraid. Yeah, afraid, okay I admit it. I knew how much of his life was his Sentinel research, and here was a guy talking about a place with not just one but a whole family of them. How could he not want to go off and study them?

Hell, just because he had found me first didn't mean I had any exclusive rights to him and all. I mean we talk about being each other's Sentinel and Guide, and our 'bond' and all. But I mean how much of that was the fact we'd been together for over four years now, almost 24/7/365? Married people don't spend as much time with each other as we do. When together that much it's natural for you to sort of get in each other's head, start finishing the others sentences and stuff like that. But it didn't give me the right to prevent him leaving if he chose to follow more of his precious Holy Grail's. And the thought drove me crazy!

But then Abel had looked at him with that damn hunger that must mirror my own. Before my fury could even get a toehold Blair roused slightly as if he where the Sentinel, sensing my upset. His hand lifted to brush my cheek feather soft and I felt a purr rise in my throat as I leaned into the touch. “I may want to study this guy Jim.” He squeaks shakily. “But I will NEVER be his Guide. You are MY Sentinel, mine alone.” The last part was spoken with a low rumbling growl of possessiveness.

Then Abel had opened his big mouth, denying my partners statement. But before I could react my pacifistic roommate used his most valuable weapon, his mouth, to slice and dice the imagined usurper.

Hearing his conviction that what made a Sentinel a Sentinel wasn't enhanced senses as much as the use of those senses for the benefit of the tribe surprised me. But him holding me up as a model of Sentinel kind? That definitely made me feel ten feet tall.

But hearing him blast Abel's failure to uphold the Sentinel code…damn I was like a proud father of a debate champion. In some things Sandburg's moral compass was so unshakable. But as soon as he finished putting Abel in his place my eloquent partner seemed to run out of juice all at once. I saw him wilt slightly and knew that the adrenaline that he had managed to harness over Abel's story had been exhausted. Then he took a deep breath and exploded into one of those coughing spells where I thought he'd hack up a lung any second. I longed to ease the wracking coughs that left him shaking, but all I could do was offer support in the way he always did for me. I patted and rubbed his back feeling the rough shudders that gripped him. He was still a long way from well and his body needed rest.

Shifting carefully I pulled him against me, using myself as a cushion between his back and the rock wall. I formed a cocoon of my arms and the blanket, supporting him until the shudders subsided and his head fell back against my shoulder. Laying my cheek on the top of his head I wove my senses around him. I noted the lungs still sludged with congestion, the reduced by noticeable fever, the tiny tremors that spoke of unrelieved exhaustion.

The blue of his eyes was smoky with drowsiness but he resisted sleep for some reason. I think maybe he was trying to gather a further argument to convert Abel. “Enough Chief.” I whispered into a curl-covered ear. “You rest. He doesn't get it and you can't make him understand.”

Dialing up my touch I passed my fingers over his forehead drawing away stray locks of auburn hair. His eyelashes tickled my palm as they fluttered in his effort to keep them open. Tuning my touch even more sensitive I stoked his lids downward, while encouraging him with a murmured “Sleep buddy. Sleep and get well.”

And so I sat, coiled around My Guide, warming and protecting him, keyed to his every sound and movement. At first Abel had started to open his mouth maybe to deny Blair's lambasting, but I just glared at him and he wisely shut up and leaned back against the wall.

Just shy of two hours later I growled in aggravation as I heard Abel shift position for the fifth time in ten minutes. Keeping my voice pitched low to hopefully not wake Sandberg I growled at the squirming man, “Stop it Chasseur. If you're trying to work your way lose remember I'd be happy to shot you with your own gun!”

For a couple of heartbeats the giant's movement subsided. But then I heard him give a frustrated hiss. “Ellizon I ave to… I ned…… damm et! I av to go to duh battroom.”

Looking over to the bound man I saw the tell tale body language, legs clenched tight together, and almost chuckled. Abel's face was beat red, the big man wasn't used to being helpless, and here he was having to ask me, another man and another Sentinel for help about something this embarrassing.

Shaking my head I didn't even try to suppress my amusement and ground out “So hold it. I am not untying you.” And I let my commitment to that show clear in my expression. It wasn't going to happen, ugh ugh, no how, no way.

“Jim.” Blair's drowsy soft voice was a mix between whisper and whine. “Lighten up Big Guy. Where's he gonna go?” Yawning like a kitten he shifted away from me slightly. “Could he make the hike back to Kincaid's camp in this weather?” Eyes still sleep clouded turned up to mine.

I thought about the storm that had gotten progressively worse since we'd been out in it. “No.” I admitted uneasily. “Wind chills twenty below. He'd never make it walking.” But I didn't move.

Sandburg leaned further over and whapped me weakly on the arm. “Then I for one don't want to deal with the results if you don't let him answer the call man.” He pushed against my arm firmly nudging me to get up.

Not happy at all, but unable to deny my partners logic, I eased away from behind Blair and climbed to my feet. Considering the weather, the time might come soon when we'd have to manage certain bodily functions in the cave, and since the rock floor prevented digging a proper hole, I really wanted to put that off as long as possible.

Making sure that Abel saw my every move, I pulled the .38 Glock out, chambered my one round and eased off the safety. Holding the gun in my right hand I strode purposefully to the restrained giant. Kneeling I worked at releasing the layers of bonds I had trussed the huge man in. Eventually the majority of them had dropped away and at last I dropped the key to the cuffs in front of him. Then I swiftly backed away to where Sandburg sat, leaving a clear path to the cave mouth.

“Up to you Chasseur. Straight out. Come one step toward us and I put one right in your heart.” I snarled intently. “You come back in, you go straight back to your corner and retie your ankles, kneel facing the wall with your hands behind your head. One wrong move and I swear I will put you down.”

Abel looked steadily at me as he shook his hands after the cuffs fell away. Taking exaggerated care he climbed to his feet and for a moment I felt again like he was challenging me just by standing there. He was just so damn huge! Few things intimidate me; I admit it…I tend to feel like I can handle pretty much anything that comes along. But Abel was intimidating. He was taller and heavier than I was and had proved to be nearly as fast. And he was a Sentinel. Despite what Sandburg said about him not being able to control his senses, he still was enhanced and he wanted a Guide. Yeah I definitely found the giant intimidating. I really, really wanted to shot the guy.

“At ease big guy,” Sandburg yawned again. “As tense as you are you'll snap off something.” He pushed himself across the floor the few inches that separated us and nonchalantly leaned his head against my shoulder like a spare pillow. His voice was drifting away even as he shifted the blanket up to include me in its warmth. “He's not going anywhere and neither am I.” And then with a sigh he was asleep again. It always amazed me that he could just wake and sleep at the snap of a finger. An essential time management skill I guess for a man who had to grab sleep somewhere between studying, teaching and observing and still manage a meal and a shower regularly.

A very short time later Abel squeezed back through the entrance, his bulk making it a difficult accomplishment. He stood for a moment shaking off a thick layer of snow and ice, shivering like he had been out in the weather for hours. He looked at me with misery in his eyes; the tears caused by the cold had frozen into little ice cycles on his cheeks. Looking at him I knew Sandburg was right, the storm was an effective prison. But I still kept the pistol aimed unerringly for the center of his chest.

We glared at each other again, two predators forced into close proximity. I could almost see as the idea of trying to tackle me crossed his mind. But then his eyes flicked to the gun held cocked and rock steady in my hand and back to my face. I might not be Clint Eastwood but I bet my expression was begging, 'please, make my day!'

With a huff of frustration the big man moved back to his corner, lowered himself to the ground and reluctantly retied his own ankles. Rolling to his knees he then knelt facing the wall and put his hands behind his head, lacing his fingers.

Carefully I eased Sandburg's head off my shoulders and leaned him against the wall. Keeping the Glock aimed right at the center of Chassier I crossed the space between us. Bending just out of his reach if he decided to pounce I snarled a harsh 'Okay, hands behind your back.” He complied with no moves I could misconstrue. One handed I slid the cuffs back over his wrists and snapped tight. Adding two more sets of the plastic cuffs to his forearms, I then checked that his ankles were properly tied.

Once sure he was safely restrained I moved back to Blair while Abel maneuvered himself so he was sitting with his back against the stone of the wall. Setting the safety on the .38 I slid it back into my jacket pocket. As I lowered myself back to sit next to my partner, said partner proceeded to pry open sleep crusted eyes and grace me with an embarrassed grimace. “Jim.” He whispered with obvious trepidation. “Umm, sorry man, but… well, now it's my turn, umm, I know my timing sucks, but…I need to go also….again.”

Rolling my eyes seemed the only response to his stumbling announcement. When he began to struggle to his feet I quickly grabbed his elbow and helped him up. He bobbled like one of those round-bottomed dolls and I had to maintain my hold on his arm to steady him. But when he started for the cave entrance in nothing but a couple of blankets I pulled him up short.

“Hold up Chief, let's get you dressed. In that weather you'll freeze your ass off.” Letting him steady himself against the wall I grabbed his toasty warm clothes from the edge of the fire and proceeded to help him struggle back into the now stiff articles. Though still weak Sandburg tried his darn'dest to help, which of course made the task harder. When he leaned over to try to pull a sock on and almost took a pearler nose first into the dirt I snapped out an impatient “Leave it Sandburg, I'll get it.”

Immediately the smaller man went stiff at my tone and I hastily added a conciliatory “Sorry Chief. Just be careful.” I felt him relax slightly but I knew he wasn't happy. Sandburg was very much like me in that he hated not being able to take care of himself. When injured or sick we both tended to feel frustrated and not gracious about needing help.

But luckily my partner tends to be more logical about such things, so recognizing he was stuck with me helping he tried to see the humor in the situation. “Careful?” His voice squeaked. “Hey, I've eaten your cooking! I'm used to living on the edge.”

Smiling I finished putting his boot on then straightened and thumped him gently on the back of the head. “Is that so? Well when we get home I promise not to cook for a month. Yep. No cooking. Wonder burger every day!”

“Ugh, now that's dangerous!” His smile returned a hint of healthy appearance to his wane face.

“Hey. 100% beef. What could be better?” I played along as I bundled his heavy coat and then the fur lined jacket around him.

“100% something Jim. But I doubt it's beef.” He returned and then made an exaggerated display of putting a finger in his mouth and gagging. The mischief in his eyes was back, signaling he was definitely feeling some better. As I slid the blanket around his bundled up form he looked up at my intent face and smiled again. “Um Jim. Has it occurred to you that what I have to do won't work real well if I am wrapped like a mummy!”

I moved over to the sleeping pallet and removed the tarp. Helping him to shuffle his way to the entrance I leaned him against the wall and chuckled, “I'm sure you'll manage. Now wait a minute then come on out.”

Stepping from the warmth of the cave into the blizzard outside was a huge shock. The wind chill sucked the breath from my lungs and blew needles of icy cold into my exposed face. Already shivering I extended the tarp out in front of me and held it up to form a windbreak. And there I stood when Sandburg pressed through the crevice behind me.

With the tarp creating a tiny area of protection Blair went about his business, keeping his back to my back so I didn't see how he managed to manage. And then I heard a zipper zip and, considering his weakness, an astonishingly fast retreat back through the cave opening. Bunching the tarp up I dashed out of the swirling wall of snow right behind my partner.

As I entered I immediately headed to the fire. Blair was just beyond the flames, leaning on the wall, wheezing and blowing like he'd run a marathon. Then he began to cough again. Grabbing up a pot of broth I moved to his side. Taking his elbow I eased him down to sit and shoved the broth into his shaking hands. “Drink some of this.” He looked at the liquid and then tried to sniff it unsuccessfully due to his congested nose and coughing. Guessing his thoughts I grinned. “It's the broth Chief. I'm saving the willow bark tea for your desert.”

Looking up I could see the relief on his face. He sipped the broth and his coughs subsided quickly.
He kept sipping as I leaned to the fire pit and pulled the simmering stew over to us. Setting the container between us I motioned toward it. “Try the stew Chief. You need the protein.”

Again with the useless sniffing that sounded more like snorting. But then his hand disappeared into his pocket and came up with his Swiss Army knife. He peeled out the spoon and plunged it into the thick mixture. Bringing a spoonful to his mouth he blew a couple of times then extended his tongue as usual to tentatively lap at it. Having been through this ritual a few hundred times, mainly any time I cooked something new, I just watched patiently.

When the first taste didn't kill on contact, the entire spoons contents went into the mouth. Eyebrows came up and he smiled at me in that reassured way of his when my culinary efforts turned out edible. “Surprised you again huh Sandburg.” I mused aloud. He chuckled and nodded as he continued to spoon up the stew.

Pulling a camp spoon out of my salvage pile I joined my partner in a filling meal of pheasant stew washed down with broth, though Blair was tired out almost immediately and had to rest between bites. When we were done there was still plenty left. Leaving some by the fire I moved the rest to the cave opening, covered the pot with chute silk and moved quickly outside, laying the container just by the entrance. The blizzard would preserve the food better than any freezer.

While by the exit I grabbed back up the tarp, “Nature's callin' me now Chief. Back in a minute.” Pulling the tarp loosely around me I scooted out into the blizzard. If there is a Guinness record for doing your business, I broke it. Even with the protective barrier I had to dial down my sensitivity to cold just to manage the two minutes it took to answer my body's need. Brrrrrrrrr!

Shaking off the bitter cold I rushed back into the cave, just in time to find Blair shuffling unsteadily away from the fire with a pot in each hand. Headed straight toward Chassier!

“What the hell do you think you're doing Sandburg?” I snarled as I intercepted him in three strides.
Pulling the pots from his startled grasp so that some of the broth splashing out.

“Chill man. Sheesh have a cow why doncha Jim.” He wheezed between gritted teeth. I could see it had taken a lot for him to marshal his strength to move around. He didn't appreciate my attitude right now. “Geneva Convention man.” He grunted as he shuffled back to the wall and leaned against it. “Gotta feed the prisoner. He hasn't had food or drink all day.” He waved vaguely toward the giant.

I felt my anger simmer to a head and opened my mouth to ream him out. But I shut it again with a snap. Sandburg was Sandburg and that wasn't going to change. The fact that Chassier had been involved with the pack of sicko's hunting us didn't change the anthropologist's fundamentally compassionate nature.

“Screw it!” I snarled with frustration. “Lie down before you fall down. I'll get him fed.”

Stomping over to the bound man I knelt by him and plopped the pots of stew and broth beside him. For a moment I considered him, making a decision. There was no way I was going to sit there and spoon feed this jerk. Every scent on the man was overpowering, my hackles where up just being this near him.

It took me a bit to switch around the bonds on Abel. But by running rope from his left wrist cuff through his belt where I snapped the right side of the cuff, and feeding it back to his right ankle and over to his left ankle, I basically hog-tied the giant while freeing his right arm and hand. Now he couldn't stand or move much else, but he could feed himself. The look he gave me as I finished should have drawn blood. “You miz a spot. You wan maybee tie my balz tugedder alzo? You zo fred off me Ellizon?”

Slopping a spoon into one of the pots I glowered at the huge man and retreated back to sit next to Blair again. As I sat down my partner turned a rather amused expression on me. “What's the joke Sandburg?” I snarled. Like I said, the giant really got on my nerves. But then I felt a feather light touch on my arm, and a soft voice reached into me and gentled the rage so suddenly that it felt like a weight lifted from me.

“Just studying the interplay between alpha male Sentinels Big Guy.” He was watching me slightly askew but with fond understanding. “But seriously Jim. We already established he has nowhere to go. What is it about him that makes you need to keep him so… controlled?”

I watched several expressions flit across Jim's face. I could see his first impulse was to snap at me. Apparently to him the answer seemed obvious. But to me it wasn't and I was becoming a bit worried. Abel's presence seemed to be putting the ex-Ranger under constant stress. I hadn't seen Jim really relax at all recently. I may have been pretty out of it some of the time, but not that much. And nobody can stay on guard continuously. Adrenaline was a valuable survival kick-start in the short term of emergencies, but without relief the strain on the system becomes detrimental.

If he were to get any rest at all he would need to accept that Abel's presence wasn't an automatic challenge.

Pressing my point concerning the redundancy of hog-tying the other Sentinel I asked the obvious question.

“What do you think he could do, send Kincaid smoke signals?” I asked facetiously hoping humor might defuse his increasing tension.

Jim didn't get the joke. His hard expression remained unchanged.

“No Sandburg. What I think he could do is kill me, hog-tie you and drag you off the mountain to try and force you to be his guide.” Each word snarled out with a sharp edge as he glared at his opponent with an intensity that should have reduced him to ash where he sat.

Man oh man, if looks could kill. Turning to Abel I expected to see denial at the accusation. But instead the big man was staring hard at me with that odd, hungry smile again.

My gaze asked for an explanation, and the smile became cold and vicious. All that had made him seem sympathetic to me had vanished.

“Yez! Juz whad I wood do. Juztiz for 'aving my Seer tak'n. Id nod be fair dat Ellizon 'ad a Seer all dis dime I shood 'ave 'ad Davy. Wid a Seer I be able do many tings. Den I 'ave money maybe, or be impordan man.”

I listened with shock. Damn! He meant every word! The thought of killing didn't seem to faze him at all. Looking at him, seeing a deviousness and callousness in his expression that was a mirror of what I had seen on Alex THAT DAY, I realized my mistake. And I also saw my own crime. History repeating itself… How could I have? How?

Though I had raged at the monstrous man for his failure to understand the responsibility of being a Sentinel, I had really started to feel sorry for him, seeing him a bit as a victim of circumstances. When the hell would I learn my lesson?

But now I had had the blinders yanked off. Here was a predator not a protector. Selfish and warped, he had been able to rationalize his actions by blaming his hard luck. I had been played like this before and now I had fallen for it again. Brother was I really that stupid? I had ranted at his failure as a Sentinel, what about my failure as a Guide? When would I be the Guide Jim deserved?

As I started to berate my naiveté' I felt Jim's hand on the back of my neck, then he squeezed gently. “Won't happen Chief.” He said softly, I guess thinking that my shocked self-loathing was fear.

“I know that Jim.” I said with absolute confidence. There was no way I was going to let things go as far as they had last time. I shifted first onto my knees and then using Jim's shoulder and the wall managed to get to my feet again.

“Blair? Hey, you still need rest Chief. What the hell…” Jim's inquiry turned to anger as he noted my beeline for Chassier. He caught up with me and reached to grab my arm but I brushed it impatiently aside. “Leave it Jim.” I heard myself snap out as I reached the trussed up giant. Kneeling just in front of Chassier I leaned into his personal space. Getting right up in his face, my rage so obvious and overpowering that the giant unconsciously shrank back from me.

“You know what Abel? I don't even pity you.” I barked out furiously. “You pity yourself enough for all of us. Someone screwed you and now you're okay with screwing everyone else because of it. Well, it stinks man. You know how many people get tough breaks and still manage to carry on a constructive and satisfying life.”

“But not you. You talk about taking me away from Jim and forcing me to be your Guide. Well buy a clue asshole. Nobody makes me be a Guide. I'm not some scared eleven-year-old boy Abel. I won't be bullied or intimidated by you. And don't EVER threaten my partner! Hear me real clear on this…you want to hurt Jim then you'll have to go through me. You try to kill him and so help me… I WILL MAKE YOU SORRY YOU WERE EVER BORN!”

I continued to glare at the other for another couple of heartbeats, oddly pleased to see the complete surprise and shock on the huge man's face.

Hauling myself awkwardly to my feet I shrugged off Jim's attempt to steady me and pushed past him to wobble toward my little nest by the fire. Peripherally I noticed a furious Sentinel quickly and efficiently replace Abel's blindfold and then push thick wads of silk under the folds over the giant's ears, effectively deafening the man. Then the cuffs were returned to both wrists behind the massive man's back. This time I didn't comment.

Half lowering, half falling, I managed to land on the small pallet that served as our bed. Not looking up as I felt Jim hovering just behind me, I climbed between the blankets and nestled down as deep as I could. I suddenly felt sick and exhausted and cold again. Damn Abel. And damn me for letting myself make the same mistake again. A mistake that could have gotten Jim hurt or killed. I was supposed to protect my partner's back, not bring a dangerous enemy into striking distance. What did that say about me as a Guide, partner and friend?

“Blair?” Jim had squatted just beside the cocoon I was trying to burrow into. The concern in his voice obvious.

“I'm fine Jim. Just tired. I think I'll catch a few more winks.” I didn't mean to but a sigh escaped me.

I felt his strong hand settle on my back then move to my shoulder through the blanket. He tightened his grip slightly and shook it ever so gently. “Come on Chief, talk to me.”

I closed my eyes; hoping sleep would come so swiftly that I could just escape everything into dreams of warmth and safety. How could I face Jim? How could he not feel that I had betrayed him again?

But sleep right then would have taken a whole bottle of sedatives, or a two by four to the side of my head.

The hand on my shoulder rocked me slightly now, slowly a little forward then back. As if he were rocking a cradle? I was just about to ask him what the hell he was doing when he said in a very subdued tone, “I'm sorry Chief.”

Sorry? He was sorry? Why? Confusion pushed pissed off out of top billing. I rolled onto my back and pulled the blanket from over my head and looked up at Jim's solemn expression.

“Hey, why are you sorry?” I asked the obvious question. “He's the sociopath and I'm the one who screwed up.” I snorted out the last past my still sore throat. I'd never been able to keep my scientific distance where Jim was concerned.

Moving his hand back to my shoulder Jim maintained a light contact. “I'm sorry that he turned out to be a jerk and that he disappointed you.”

I saw by his eyes that he really meant it. But he hadn't realized my crime yet. My interest in another Sentinel the first time, with Alex, had left Jim off balance and at risk, but I hadn't had a clue then. But now I did and I'd still… Sighing again I gave a rueful shake of my head. He didn't get it.

“I'm the one that's sorry. And ashamed. Jeez Jim… I did it again! Hell I am such an idiot! You'd think after everything that happened with Alex I'd have learned not to make the same mess of things.” Before I could continue a bout of coughing seized me again. I honked and gasped as my mind replayed the last few hours with such clarity. And my own actions showed now as mockingly familiar.

I was so sunk in self-loathing that I couldn't look at Jim. His expression on that day years ago when I'd finally admitted my work with Alex would haunt me forever. The despair of having to see it anew broke over me like a wave, washing away what strength I'd garnered from the recent rest, food and warmth. The coughing wracked my body, seared my chest and brought dark spots across my vision.

Even as the cold started to reclaim me I felt myself gathered into strong arms. Hugged with a combination of strength and tender care that beat back the creeping ice from my soul. Then while one arm remained coiled around my waist, a big, warm hand began stroking gentle circles on my back, easing the vice like grip on my lungs. As I ceased coughing Jim's stroking hand moved to the back of my head to ease it forward until my forehead rested against his shoulder.

“Easy Chief, easy!” The big, tough ex-Ranger's voice almost crooned it was so comforting. Right now it meant more to me than I could ever explain.

“I…//wheeze// I had //gasp// sworn never again.” I choked out as my breathing eased. Whispering into the fabric of his coat was easier than explaining to his face. “After I figured out that as a Sentinel you //wheeze// couldn't tolerate another in your territory, //wheeze // I realized that you couldn't help but instinctively see my helping the invader as an intentional betrayal.”

We had never gone into any detail of what had lead to our disintegration as a team. Jim had felt to guilty about me getting killed after he kicked me out. I had felt to guilty because by helping her gain control I had not only helped Alex become a greater threat to Jim, but also a more dangerous and efficient criminal. If those canister's of toxin had been used I would have been responsible for the death of thousands, hundreds of thousands. I still get nightmares just thinking how close she'd been.

By some unvoiced agreement we had just acted like it was all ancient history. Both of us had gone out of our way for a long while to be extra open, extra honest and extra considerate of the other without ever broaching that one thing. We'd been like the family who agrees not to discuss the elephant in the middle of the room. And somehow, in time, the whole fiasco had become history. But now I recognized that the guilt had crusted over, but never truly healed.

“I vowed that I would never, ever let my obsession about Sentinel's blind me to my responsibilities as your Guide.” What had been an easing sore throat was now as raw as before, but I forged on with my confession. “And then the first time another Sentinel comes along I start right up trying to study him, helping him. Just like back then, oblivious to the threat he represents to you.”

“Just like Alex man. All I could think about was my damn studies.” The rasp in my voice couldn't disguise the disgust I felt at my actions.

“What does it take before I learn? Your dying? My dying again?”

As the last words left my lips I felt Jim's grasp tighten almost to the point of pain.

“No!” There was a hint of panic in the older man's voice as he hissed out the harsh denial. “Damn it Blair, you didn't do anything wrong!” Grabbing hold of my upper arms he first held me far enough from him for me to see his face, then shook me, hard.

“Nothing. Back then….or now!” He let his hands fall to his side, his eyes suddenly dark with a wrenching guilt. “I should have talked to you, but I just wanted to put it all behind us. After the grotto, I knew. I may not have your smarts Sandburg, but after Sierra Verde I finally caught on. It's what I have tried to get you to see. The Guide is just as driven by instinct as the Sentinel is. You and I both have been wired to respond to certain things in certain ways. The Sentinel's instincts had me hackling as I sensed an invader in my territory. The Guides instincts had you drawn to help a Sentinel. You're programmed that way Chief. Plus you're a natural born teacher. It didn't all go to hell because of what you did. It was what I didn't do, wouldn't do.”

The guilt was running off him in waves now. “It was me Sandburg. All of it. My instincts were screaming for me to keep you with me at all times. I needed that, I sensed that whatever was going on could present a threat to you even more than me.” He shook his head in frustration. “I even got sent a vision for crying out loud, practically spelling it out. I saw myself so out of synch with my senses that I didn't even recognize my true Guide. You! I didn't recognize you Blair. I denied my instincts warnings and instead of trying to understand what I was sensing, or asking your help, I just struck out. The vision bugged me; the weirdness frustrated me, and then when I saw the wolf… I just shot. It was you Chief! Your spirit animal, and I didn't even recognize it!

“I let my hang-ups push me to fight for control instead of trusting my senses, trusting the warning of the visions. And then when I learned about Alex, I rationalized that you'd be safer away from me, away from the conflict that I knew was going to happen between she and I. I sent you away. I felt I couldn't control you. And I wanted to. Hell, needed to, to keep you safe. But I refused to face it… or you. To damn obstinate to let myself put any trust in all this mystic stuff. I just wanted someone to blame for my having to deal with stuff I couldn't force into a nice neat, black and white box.”

Intense, hawk sharp eyes of blue bored into my own. “And you paid the price. You died Chief, and I felt like I'd killed you. When I went after Alex in Mexico it was with every intension of putting her down, like a rabid animal. But then…then the instincts kicked in again; drowning me in a need I had no power over. And after what had happened before, to you, I couldn't… I was terrified to deny them, to not obey them again. So I just let the instincts direct me. But than by doing so I hurt you again! Shit Chief! I just couldn't do anything right.”

It was one of those rare moments when Jim's emotions where laid out, totally exposed. His father and then the military had done a first rate job of making this deep, complex man ashamed of displaying or even having feelings. Those damn fear based responses. There is almost no one he trusts enough to let those walls around his heart be breached. As I look up into his remorse filled eyes I oddly felt a thrill of joy. For I clearly saw at last… trust. In me, in our partnership. The trust that had not been visible before Alex, before 'The Fountain'. The trust that Jim treasured as highly as honor.

How could I get him to understand? After all this time, to realize that Blair had convinced himself, no…the truth was I had convinced him, that he was responsible for the Alex debacle. After all, I had repeatedly insinuated those ideas into his head until he believed them.

“I need someone I can trust.” How could six words hold so much damn tragedy in them? But my inability to trust had always been my pivotal defining trait hadn't it? I remember trusting my father, telling about my senses when Bud was killed. Trusting him to believe me, help me; understand how bad I felt about the murder. I had needed him so much. You're supposed to be able to trust your own father, aren't you? But instead of protecting me, he had attacked. Accused me of lying, warning me that I end up labeled a liar, or worse … a freak! I never brought the senses up again. Yeah, buried it all so deep I didn't even remember for a couple of decades!

Every girlfriend I had had ended up either being more wrapped up with my being a football jock, or threw me over for the newest 'hot' guy in school. A couple of times I'd thought I had guy friends, only to discover they expected me to help them get girls or shave points on games I was in.

Then betrayed by Stephen, my baby brother, whom I'd protected and considered my only true friend. Until he smashed Pop's car and left me to take the blame. He valued a trip overseas with good ole' Dad more than our relationship and me. When I found out that my father had in fact known the truth and still taken Stevie, to teach me a lesson in how unfair competition could be. That little wake up call had convinced me to enlist on my eighteenth birthday.

Even that went to hell. Betrayed by my own commander, my team killed. Trust had died a little more with each deceit. And so finally it was DOA, completely dead. Oh, I had people that I considered dependable, people I looked to for backup. But I fought anything that placed me in a situation of dependence. I had no intention of ever giving anyone a chance to screw me over again. In Vice I'd been the baddest lone wolf on the block.

Even when I came to Major Crimes I made Simon's life hell by practically being the poster boy for bad attitude. It had taken a not too subtle blackmail from Simon to get Jack to take me on as a partner, and then it was my turn to betray, Jack's trust, with Jack's lady.

So to say I had trust issues when I meet Sandburg, was a major understatement. And of course my damn anal retentive streak hadn't helped. Every time anything went the tiniest bit out of my control, boom, instant regression to lone wolf badass. Had to prove to everyone, myself especially, I didn't need anyone.

It had happened so often in those early days, I'd fought so hard not to let Sandburg in. Still denying I needed help. Resisted tests that the intuitive student had proved again and again where important to gain the control I desired. Tried to maintain a strictly professional distance from the bright laughing heart that was so alluring and open, inviting me to step into the warmth that was his world-view. Refusing the encouragement to laugh again, care again, need again, trust…again.

But the immovable prick had meet the unstoppable optimist, and he'd won…mostly. But not completely, never completely. There had been so many occasions when no matter how many times he had proved himself, I had kicked him in the teeth. Refusing to believe him over total strangers. Accusing him of exaggerating his indispensability, of lies, of betrayal. When the only thing he'd been guilty of was being there.

Over and over being at my side or my back, protecting me, frequently from myself. And anytime I'd realized that without him I would have failed…I'd felt threatened, vulnerable. I could NOT be dependant! So denial time again.

And so when my senses went to hell and I started seeing phantom spotted big cats, instead of recognizing I needed Blair's help figuring it all out I withdrew into my usual distrustful macho lone wolf crap. Blair tried to talk to me, tried to tell me about Alex. But I couldn't, or wouldn't, hear.

And then he'd died.

And come back.
For me.

But we'd never talked it out. I'd never really explained, never apologized, never acknowledged the awful reality. I needed him, hell I was totally dependant on him. And I had resented him for my need.

Could I tell him…properly? Could I say the 'L' word without him thinking I'd lost my mind, like earlier?

Like a drowning man clutches a life preserver I reached out and dragged Blair into a rib straining hug, hearing his breath, feeling his warmth even through his many layers. And reveling in his tangy rich scent, no longer sour and off with illness, relieved he was getting better.

Still holding him so that I didn't have to look into his eyes, I rested my chin on his curl-covered head. “I do trust you Blair. I should have all along. But I was crippled Chief, by my past, my doubts and fears. It was never your fault, any of it. I couldn't trust anyone, not just you. That part of me…it was twisted Chief, deformed. But in a strange way losing you, the fountain, then the grotto, it burned that part of me away. When you died my heart turned to ash, and like a phoenix from the ash you came back and put me straight.”

I felt Blair try to pull back from my embrace, probably to argue with me, defend me, even against myself. But I held him with his face still against my chest, snuffling unconsciously through his hair, enjoying the tickle on my chin and the strong musk from his scalp.

“Hold up a sec Sandburg. Let me talk just a bit more. I'm going to give it one more try. Once more to try to get you to see. Because we're not just partners, friends, even brothers Chief. Whatever weird order there is to the universe has decided you and I, we're a set. Sentinel and Guide are twin souls; I haven't got a clue how to explain it. I just know it, finally, without doubt or question. You, me, we're pretty much destined to be together, stay together. And somehow I will get it into that quirky head of yours that the 'Guide' has got his own set of 'enhancements'.”

“And I know I spooked you out when I told you before Chief, but I'm going to say it again. And maybe even more. I trust you. I need you with me buddy. I love ya. You are the kindest, goofiest, brightest and bravest person I know.” Remembering earlier conversations I tightened my hold and deepened my voice. “But so help me, if I let you go and you try to check me for concussion, accuse me of being a pod person, or some other wise ass response, I will strip your skinny little ass and throw you out in the snow!”

The wadded up form in my embrace tensed, then I heard a snicker grow into a chuckle that became full out snorting hoots of scratchy laughter.

Gloved hands pushed insistently against my chest making me release my grip. Moving slightly away so that he was sitting a short distance from me, I watched this expression of amusement deepen even further as he snorted in another breath to laugh even harder.

Struggling to laugh, breath and talk simultaneously he managed to croak out a wheezy, “I sure am glad I didn't say what I was thinking man. Cause I'll be honest Jim… I was seriously worried at the end there, scared even. Any minute I thought you were gonna start singing, 'You are the wind beneath my wings!' You doing Bette Midler! Ugh. Thought for sure I'd have to hurl. Scccaaarrryyy. ” And he shivered dramatically.

Growling in absolute exasperation all I could do was stare. What the hell did it take? Why couldn't he get this. And then I flashed back to another time involving deep emotions and realized he was just echoing back what he'd learned from me, the hard way. Back then also one of us had tried to get the other to face some intimate truths. There should have been serious talk, about death, rebirth, and shared visions. But when my heart had ached to beg my Guides forgiveness, to shout how glad I was he was alive, to follow wherever he led, instead I'd shied away from dealing with it with a trite, 'There are easier ways to meet nurses Sandburg' and 'You still owe rent.”

I could think of things about myself I would be prouder to have rub off on my partner besides my incompetence with emotional issues. Shit…Blair is defined by his easy confidence and willingness to put his feelings right out there. Had my aversion to verbalizing anything vaguely emotional and affectionate pulled him down to my level? God, I hoped not.

I reached out to grab him, but only managed to snag a part of his parka, as he seemed to have recovered some of his usual squirmy, wiry coordination. He slithered out of my grasp and twisted to face me again. I gasped as I saw again his incredibly deep feelings laid out for my view.

“Jim…Jim.” He paused and his eyes now had lost all humor, gone dark and solemn as they drilled into mine. “I understand. I really do.” His voice held no doubt, no confusion. Absolute, unshakable, his face had taken on the odd ancient wisdom and confidence that I had sometimes caught eerie glimpses of.

“I love you to Jim.” Deep emotion welled from each word, mooring to my heart. “I have from the beginning. I guess I kinda always knew man, whatever my destiny…it was with you.”

It was weird how calm I felt. How at peace. After the emotional roller coaster of recognizing that I'd come close to screwing up…again, then Jim actually talking, real honest to god heavy emotional subject matter and all, about what he'd felt during the whole Alex disaster, I'd felt drained.

Then I'd listened, …again, to Jim go over his whole 'the Guide is special too' theory. He'd been throwing it at me more and more frequently in the last few months. But I had just assumed it was because he was able to read me so well that he knew there were times I was a little jealous that he had the neat special gifts, and all I could do was follow him around and watch. The 'Sidekick' job description can be such a drag and not my dream for a career.

Then he'd gone further, delving deep into emotions that until this mess he had just never verbalized. Now twice in a few days he'd spoken of fears and needs and tender feelings to me, surprising me so totally that I'd been unprepared to deal with them and pulled a classic Ellison avoidance tactic. Since when was I skittish about discussing feelings? So nervous I'd broken out in the giggles, what the hell was that about?

Yet even as I blurted out the humorous retort I'd felt something else. Some curious part of me had actually listened to what Jim had said with both the focused attention of the academic and the open mind of someone who had seen to many unexplainable things to discount. And though I had listened to all he said before, this was the first time I actually heard.

Something inside me was unfurling, released at last. Jim had voiced the feelings I had been aware of in myself almost since our first meeting. I'd given it a lot of names as it grew and deepened, friendship, camaraderie, brotherly affection, love. What ever I called it, I had found myself lured away from my previous nomadic, academic path to one a lot more dangerous than I really felt I could cope with. I have no false ideas about myself. I know I'm a coward, not even ashamed of it okay! I am an anthropologist for crying out loud, not Rambo.

I work with hero's everyday, and man I can tell you for sure I don't have the emotional or physical attributes to satisfy the job requirements. For one thing I am way to neurotic. Fear of heights, yup. Fear of guns, biiiiiggggg yup. After the last few years I seem to be adding about one phobia a year. Elevators, uh huh, not fond of them anymore. Bombs, whoa yeah, well I don't know if that's a phobia as much as common sense. Water…brrrrr. I still haven't been able to go swimming since the fountain, and get nauseous if I smell chlorine. Like I said, neurotic.

Physically, heck I'm only five foot nine, and weigh in wet at one fifty. I used to think I was average size, but now I realize that was probably because I spent most of my time with aboriginal natives who don't win any contests for height. Now that I work with people where the bar for 'average' is around six feet plus, well like I said, I just couldn't make that grade.
I guess if I really was smart I would have caught a hint and given it all up after I got involved the first time. In that one case was pretty much a synopsis of what was to come. Guns, chases, fast, crazy driving, homicidal woman, bombs. I mean really if I had two brain cells to rub together I would have gotten the hint and got the flock out of Dodge!

But I couldn't. Weirdly, even though I was damn scared, a lot, and I was not thrilled with being ordered around and snapped at, I couldn't leave. And it wasn't because I needed to study him for my diss, though I had told Jim different.

Yeah, I am one of those scientists who do do best when I can see my subject in his or her natural environment. I had lived with all the tribes I had ever studied, and usually managed to maintain my 'observer' objectivity. But from the very start it had been different with Jim. I couldn't just stand by and watch. I was drawn in, to be there, watching out for him, watching his back. Yeah, yeah, real funny, but true. I just couldn't bear the idea of him being in danger and me not being there to watch out for him, doing what I could to help.

When I couldn't lay eyes on him whenever the mood grabbed me, somehow I'd start getting antsy. Sometimes it got so bad I'd leave Rainier, head over to the station on some pretense of helping him with paperwork, like an addict sneaking a fix. The guys think Jim is manipulating me to get out of the part of the job he hates most. I can't hope to explain to them that I do it to meet my own needs.

Of course I had never even given a hint of that little weirdness to the big guy. I could just see it, me telling him, 'oh Jim, by the way, some side effect of the my working with the Sentinel seems to be the some mystical dependency and I can't cope for any length of time without a booster fix of you.' Nope, not going there. I haven't made my last will out yet. Hell, I haven't made any little Sandburg's yet! I plan to live a long time, and that means avoiding certain conversations.

Until now Jim just hadn't been comfortable with anything that smacks of the mystical. As the king of suppression the whole ancient instinctual guardian stuff gave Jim the heebie jeebies. He shied away from the idea of his not being in control. His actions being pre-programmed, uhg uh, no way. Oh man, the few times he'd really regressed to his primal self without even knowing how he knew what he knew, he'd freaked!

Unfortunately I'd seen how hard he would fight not to accept the supernatural side of the Sentinel nature. My body had served painful witness to what happens to a control freak when the vision's start. It had been a fast downward spiral, his spirit animal's presence, mine, Alex's, the fountain. Worse in Mexico; the mating attraction, the grotto and more visions. Of course I'm not sure of a lot of what went on in Sierra Verde. A case of walking pneumonia and a fever of 103 can sort of blur the details of things. But I'm pretty sure that Jim was totally awash in some serious spooky shit. And his friend, the Anthropologist, had seemed more interested in studying the two specimens of Sentinel kind than being HIS Guide.

But now I saw that in my own way I'd been in denial as to what my role was almost as much as Jim had been at the beginning. But this time I really heard what Jim said, and for maybe the first time processed the possibility that I was not just a person guiding a Sentinel, but a predestined Guide, capital G, and even more, Jim's Guide. With a weird clarity of hindsight I thought again of several things that I had put down to chance, luck, or coincidence. Shifting my interpretation just every so slightly I had to admit to myself that serendipity could only cover so much.

What if Jim had come to me because we where meant to complete each other? Not just because I was the only one offering help. What if Incacha hadn't passed the way of the Shaman on to me just because I was there at the time, but because he recognized something about me? Maybe I was able to pull Jim out of zones fast because I was always so aware of him that it was like we were linked. How had I known when he'd been in trouble so many times? How was I able to see past all the stoic macho crap and know, not guess, but really know, what was going on with Jim? I seemed to almost vibrate in tune to Jim sometimes… and he seemed to be tuned to me. Maybe…

Shit! I felt just like in the cartoons when the stupid light bulb pops up over your head. I knew! It was true! There was no way I could have just stumbled through all this. It was just too much to assign to chance. Over and over, one or the other of us had had the necessary piece of some larger puzzle, balanced the actions of the other, supplied what was wanting in the other in a way no one else seemed capable of.

The Sentinel and Guide.

The Sentinel has the enhanced senses, hyper aware of the tangible environment. Dealing with provable facts, things that could be seen, smelled, tasted, heard, and touched, requiring evidence more than faith or interpretation.

The Guide has the subjective contribution. More intuitive with a comfort level with the spiritual, the mystical. Believing the unbelievable, conceiving the inconceivable.

All this time, I've studied it, analyzed it, extrapolated it, known the traits that where the defining features of the primitive Watchman and his ever present partner. If anyone should recognize what identifies a Guide, you'd have thought it would have been me. Yet somehow I'd been too close to make the connection, recognize it; see it looking back in the mirror.

All this time I'd wished I could be the person Jim needed. Wished I were like the Guides that Burton described. Yet all along I'd seen myself as faking it, trying to mimic what I thought a 'Real Guide' would do. But all along…

I was a Guide! I was Jim's Guide, not just some kid following him around. And I did bring real contributions to the partnership. And someday I'll bring even more to the table, because I knew now more than my true Guide nature. I felt something inside perk up, as I looked even further inward, brushing over powerful mystical potential. Yes, me. Guide and entry level Shaman.

And suddenly, as I finally accepted the destiny for which I had been born, I found myself standing in an open meadow surrounded by tall redwoods. I knew this field, it was behind the commune Naomi and I had lived in when I was twelve. The field had been my personal reading room after a professor friend of my mom's had loaned me the book "The Sentinels of Paraguay".

A vision! Cool! I had kind of expected a jungle, since each of Jim's had been set in a jungle. But maybe each person kind of chose his or her setting. Jim had been reborn as a Sentinel in Peru after the crash; then again he had chosen to remain a Sentinel there.

I had discovered Sentinel's in this field, and set my heart on one day finding one. Maybe this place represented when, like Jim, I had made a choice to become a Guide.

I stood there just reveling in the sights and sounds. It was all so detailed, sharp and clear and 100% accurate. Wow! This was incredible. Oddly I felt no fear, even though the only other time I'd had a vision, I'd been dead. As I started to walk toward the trees I heard a strong, yet kindly voice, in my mind, or maybe my soul. “So you begin, Guide-Shaman… at last.” I turned, not surprised to find Incacha standing before me. His smiling face was still painted blood red, belaying the gentle good humor in those intense black eyes of his. Of course an ebony jaguar and silver wolf sat at his side.

“You're speaking English?” I blurted unintentionally, and watched his smile grow even wider. Way to go Sandburg, you're in the middle of a conversation with a dead man, in a field from your childhood that is probably paved parking by now, and all you can comment on is he is speaking English.

“Skip it, I'm just a little blown away here man. I'm new to this and all. I mean I've participated in native religious ceremonies where there was definitely some hallucinogenic, ya know peyote' and all that…but I never really had any out of body experience, just ended up hurling my guts. Of course I had the vision when I died, but I figured that was Jim's vision and I was just a passenger, ya know. But this…this is….”

“Sinchij.” Incacha's sharp voice did not hide his amusement. “You…”

“I know…I know I'm babbling. Happens when I'm nervous. Jim's always telling me…”

“Sinchij munasqaykuna!” A calming hand settled firmly on my shoulder and squeezed. The action was so much like Jim always did that I quieted immediately. I looked into his kindly eyes as they focused unwaveringly on my face. “I am pleased Enquiri found his soul mate. When he was with me I was sad that I could only ease his pain from the void in his heart as he hunted for you. But now you both have found the other. Completed each other.”

“You have chosen, Guide-Shaman. Enquiri, you… you see now what you are, both of you. Now that you have accepted yourself you will help Enquiri as Guide. But you are also Shaman. Your power is great, and your heart strong and true. Conceive, believe, accomplish. The only thing that limit's you will by your doubts. You have much too long bound away the great power within you.” I tried to focus my eyes as Incacha's image became blurry, his speech becoming fainter within my mind as he went on, ending almost as a whisper. “Now…you will truly become.”

“Become? Become what? Incacha!” I opened my mouth to speak aloud and…

Opening my eyes I saw Jim staring at me with a look of frustration frozen on his face. I blinked and realized that only a fraction of a second had passed since I'd laughed in the face of my Sentinel's emotional revelation. My epiphany and Incacha's cryptic pep talk, all had taken place between one heartbeat and the next.

Like a switch had been thrown on a VCR suddenly Jim began to move, reaching out to grab at me. His face looked like he was ready to pound his idea into my brain, syllable by syllable! A quick squirm and wriggle and I got a little away from him, but I turned back immediately. I had to tell him! Let him in on what I now knew for sure. I was HIS Guide and he was MY Sentinel. WE, US, together, all part of the big plan. Somewhere in my mind I felt something arc and crackle to life, but I had no time now to study it.

“Jim…Jim.” I found as much as I wanted to tell him what had just happened, other words pushed to the fore, demanding to be said first. “I understand. I really do.” I wondered could a simple thing like a heart manage to hold what I was feeling right now? “I love you to Jim. I have from the beginning. I guess I kinda always knew man, whatever my destiny…it was with you.”

His eyes meet mine with an intense determination, demanding something. From some distant place I heard the fierce roar of a large cat. The Jaguar! I perceived a subtle nuance in the sound. It was a summons, a call to join with the big aggressive spirit animal. Without any thought I knew what was needed and from within myself sent forth the wolf, howling with acceptance and joy.

With different eyes I saw the ebony form leap and the silver shape pounce to intercept. There was the still remembered too, too bright flare of fusion. A union of spirits, combining in that moment all the differences and similarities, each filling any voids in the other. It was the most wonderful feeling I had every experienced, totally at peace, completing me in ways I had never even known I was lacking.

Feeling as if I were still in the spirit plane with Incacha I saw a nimbus of intense blue glowing around Jim. Like an entranced child I reached out to finger the warm radiance. Brushing the soft aura I felt unhappy when I noticed flecks of angry red flickering near Jim's shoulder. Somehow impelled to try to sooth away the disparity I passed my hand feather light over each point of crimson. From my fingers wisped rainbow ribbons of sky blue, grass green, and sun gold that flowed over the scarlet, gentled away the red to violet and finally to the same radiant blue as the rest of the corona.

Bemused I reached toward another area of scarlet along his neck but then I registered the look on Jim's face. From intent possessiveness it had relaxed into a kind of shock, no…not shock…more like dazed?

Taking a deep breath I felt oddly lightheaded, but I smiled at him as I reached up again, still discontent with the red spots.

“ARRRRGgggggghhhhhh!!!” I couldn't hold the cry as suddenly it felt like a large knife had been driven through each of my eyes into my brain. Then instantly the agony was compounded as a vicious cramp twisted my guts.

I felt acid burn my throat as I vomited and then whimpering helplessly let the blackness swoop in and devour me.

“OOOOooouuucchh!” My blurry eyes tried to focus on a blade of pristine, emerald grass that was poking in my nostril. I wanted to move my head to escape the nuisance, but said head seemed to weigh about a million pounds and to not be following my orders right then. Breathing in slowly to fend off any pending panic attack I concentrated on the calming fact that I was warm, lying face down in a field somewhere. Catching the intensity of the smells and sounds, I realized I must be back in my vision meadow!

From somewhere I managed to marshal the strength to turn my head. Yep, Redwood's all around and the same virgin green field, the whole schlemiel. And sitting cross-legged just next to my flat on the ground self, looking like an amused little Budda…Incacha.

Clamping my eyes shut I concentrated and just managed to roll over onto my back in spite of the axe that just had to be buried in my skull top.

“Shit!” I exclaimed through gritted teeth, unable to keep the tears of pain from squeezing out from my compressed eyelids. “What the hell…?” I had always thought that there was no pain in visions, man… this was so damn unfair.

“Sinchij?” Despite the amusement I had noticed earlier, I couldn't miss the concern in the small native's voice. Okay…I could do this. A few more deep breaths were necessary to get past the still pretty intense headache, but I finally managed to open my eyes and sit up just opposite Incacha, adopting the same cross-legged position. Only the fact I hurt so much helped me resist the impulse to raise a palm and go “How Kemosabi” in recognition of our pow-wow like stance. Somehow I don't think the Chopec Shaman would have understood the reference. Of course maybe they have T.V. in the spirit world… and where there is T.V. there will be reruns!

“Incacha…” I tried to think of a respectful way to phrase my question. He was, after all, Jim's mentor and first Guide. But pain did not improve my manners. “What the HELL happened! I'm here, I'm back with Jim, I'm here again, with the mother of all headaches mind you. What is up man, cause I gotta tell you this is sssssoooooo not my idea of a vision. I hurt! You're not supposed to hurt on the astral plane! Are you?” I fumbled to a confused stop. This was not going the way I had always dreamed. And it was pissing me off.

““Sinchij munasqaykuna” Again with the strange phrase, was that the Chopec version of 'Hey shut up'? Or maybe 'Chief, you're babbling.' Before I could ask though Incacha extended his hands, palm up, straight in front of him so they reached almost to me. Not exactly sure how I knew what was expected, but willing to try anything once, I extended my own arms to clasped his just above the wrist.

Immediately I felt a surge of warmth and a tingle that lifted the hair on the nape of my neck. But within a moment I let out a whoosh of shock as the blinding pain behind my eyes eased remarkably. The pain had been so intense that even though not gone entirely, the amount of relief in comparison made ignoring the residual easy.

“Oh man. Thank you!” I exclaimed appreciatively. “I am like so not into pain, and that was the mother of all migraines.”

Before I could launch into any further gratitude marathon, Incacha's arms dropped away and his form visibly dimmed. He seemed almost translucent, and I immediately felt concern for the Shaman. Dead or not, he didn't look so hot right then.

“Incacha? Are you okay? What can I do?” Unconsciously I reached out toward him, but my hand passed right through his previously tangible form. “Whoa!” I snapped as I withdrew my tingling hand.

“It is well Sinchij.” My host's voice still held a lot of amusement, but I could feel that he was under some definite time restraints. Was he AWOL from where ever Chopec Shaman's go in the afterlife? “I did not expect you to return so…soon.” He actually shook his head then and the look he gave me held a certain wonder. It was the one Naomi always gave me as a kid when I did something either incredibly intelligent or incredibly dumb. Considering the fact that even Incacha hadn't been prepared for my reappearance I could just assume that it was likely the incredibly dumb type thing.

“I screwed up huh.” I stated matter-of-factly. I mean I don't exactly even know what I did, so it's reasonable to assume that I didn't do it right… what ever it was… This was not making a lot of sense to me.

“No Shaman. You did nothing wrong. Just dangerous. You are very powerful, but you are not yet strong enough to weld that power.” Incacha's face leaned in close to examine my drawn, still slightly pained expression. “It is your nature for you to wish to help your Sentinel. But you are ill and your body sapped of energy. To try to heal Enquiri now only does you harm, and he would not wish you injury to spare him pain he is already past noticing.”

“HEALING! I was healing Jim!” I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But thinking back to the imagery I realized that the red twirly stuff must be the pain aura, and I had been healing…

“WOW!” I barked with excitement. “This is so neat! I, Blair Jacob Sandburg… can heal! Man I just can not believe…”

“SHAMAN!” It was the first time I ever heard Incacha actually shout. And the look on his face was one bordering on exasperation. Quickly replaying what he had said to me I realized that maybe he'd wanted me to pay a little closer attention to the fact that I could have hurt myself, and less to the fact that I could heal. HEALING! So cool, I couldn't wait to tell Jim.

But first I needed to be the good student and show my teacher that I was not taking all this lightly. That I would read all the warning labels in future and not operate my Shaman power's when impaired and all the other responsible adult type things important when messing with hazardous stuff.

I could swear Incacha must have heard my thoughts, for a moment humor and frustration warred for primacy on the deep brown face. Jim always said I could drive a saint to distraction…I guess that applied to dead Chopec Shamans also.

Deciding to spare him the stress, if spirits can experience stress anymore, I schooled my expression into the patented 'Profession Sandburg who knows his shit and doesn't do anything to, to terribly stupid without a rrrrreeeaaallllyyy good reason' one.

“Hey, sorry Incacha. I understand. No frivolous healing. Got it.”

“NO! You do not 'got it.” There was no question now; frustration had definitely won the war. Leaning in to my face again, this time the Chopec actually growled! So that's where Jim got that from.

“Healing and your other powers, they are costly to your body and you must learn how to use them or you will be hurt. Most Shaman cannot ever heal. The few who do, cannot until many years have been spent in meditation and learning. I have never seen so young and inexperienced a Shaman be able to. It proves how powerful you will be, Shaman of the Great City. But you must practice more care and patience. If not for yourself, understand that if Enquiri lost his Sinchij Munasqaykuna it would be his end.”

The dark eyes of the older man bored into me; trying to make me understand, make me see the possible result of any thoughtless use of what apparently was some potentially kick ass ability. But whatever other argument he had, was no longer moot. His last sentence was really all he had to say. Jim was my priority, always was, always would be. The realization that if something happened to me Jim would be harmed… Then the thought of just what he was saying scared the hell out of me.

“What exactly do you mean Incacha? If I die…Jim dies? No way man. No way. That was not in the contract. I accepted being a Guide, accepted that this is who and what I was meant to be. But no way am I going to risk Jim. That is like so not fair. Forget the hazards of Shamanism. What if some lunatic like Lash were to get me, kill me? I'm not a warrior man. I can just barely get through a day unscathed, I am no match for half the pug uglies that Jim goes up against. And you tell me if I go down then Jim does too…Ugh ugh. NO …. WAY… I want out. Or I want Jim out… Who writes these rules? I want to speak to them… I… I…, no way man…”

What had started to be a full-blown panic attack suddenly sputtered down to an aching despair, tears running down my cheeks. All the joy and wonder of my earlier epiphany about my being Jim's destined Guide had turned to ash. Destined Guide, destined to screw up and either directly or indirectly cost my Sentinel his life.

“Shaman.” Incacha's voice was filled with gentleness and understanding. “Do not fear for your Sentinel. Has he not always mastered his enemies? Without you, would he not already be dead. Do not dwell on the darkness, focus on the light. No man may know when his death will be. But worry will not hold it at bay. Enquiri chooses to be a protector, knowing he may die. You have chosen to protect and guide the protector, knowing you may die. It is as it should be.” His voice was beginning to fade and my headache was starting to come back.

“Incacha?” I called out suddenly.

“Yes, Shaman of the Great City” His words more like the sound of wind through trees than speech.

“What the hell does Sinchij munasqaykuna mean?” I let a bit of my curiosity leak into the question.

“It is what Enquiri has always called you, even in his dream walks before he meet you.”

“But what does it mean??”

“Ask Enquirrrriii….

“I love you too Jim. I have from the beginning. I guess I kinda always knew man, whatever my destiny…it was with you.”

He had said it, exactly what I had needed to hear. And I saw clearly something had changed in him. His eyes, always kind and wise, held a new level of wonder. A smile both goofy with joy and rather shy was painted across his solemn face.

HE KNEW. He finally knew that he wasn't just a follow along. Not an interchangeable happenstance, but an essential half of the whole Sentinel/Guide partnership. Not just a guide, but MY Guide.

From inside me I felt the surge of the fierce feral urge that I had come to recognize as my Spirit Jaguar's emergence. The big cat roared insistently, demanding a response and then the black feline bounded from my chest. Blair's pupils expanded huge, then his eyes glowed nearly dark turquoise. I saw the now familiar silver wolf leap from his form to meet the great cat that waited impatiently. They pounced at the same moment, their arch intercepted at each apex and just as before, at the fountain, the ephemeral shapes coalesced into a sight banishing flash of light.

The intensity of the flare left me jolted back onto my heels, still squatted just in front of where Blair sat mere inches from me. His expression was even more awestruck now. So much love radiated from him that I felt I would be singed by the glow, but I was so totally enthralled I couldn't have moved or looked away if my life had depended on it.

His hand reached up, tentative at first, like a little boy who has found his first butterfly, amazed, desperate to touch, but afraid to touch at the same time. There was the faintest graze of his fingers on my cheek and a wondrous tingling of warmth radiated from the spot. Even as I registered the unusual feeling I saw his smile turn into a tiny discontented line as his gaze suddenly fixed on my sore shoulder.

Though the injury was still tender, I had pretty much gotten use to the achy pain throbbing in the background of my senses. Now as Blair's hand moved to the point of my shoulder that happened to twinge the most, I felt an unmistakable current of tingling heat. Within a heartbeat the shoulder's discomfort faded, then vanished away.

Shocked and not a little confused I saw Blair's faraway gaze move to my collar where still remained a faint but barely noticeable sting when I moved. Frozen immobile by what I could not accept was happening but was hard to deny, I just watched his hand follow his line of sight up.

“Arrrrggggghhhh” It happened so fast I didn't even see the change. Suddenly Sandburg's pulse shot through the roof, his face shriveled into a grimace of agony, he vomited and his eyes rolled back.

“BLAIR?” I grabbed him as he keeled forwarded into my chest. Shifting his limp form I eased him onto his back on the pallet. My worry went ballistic when I noted a severe nosebleed had started with his collapse.

I don't do helpless well, and not having any idea what had happened made me nuts. My partner had been through so much in the last week, but had been getting better. Now suddenly he has some kind of epiphany, seems to be able to heal me and then shuts down like the energizer bunny with the batteries ripped out.

My hands were a little frantic as they moved to his neck. Yeah, my ears had already told me his heart was beating at a gallop, but I needed to feel it for some reason, so sue me!

The pounding strength of the pulse belonged on someone who had run a marathon more that a man just sitting around, but I was too grateful for it in any form to carp. What bothered me more was his body that just hours before had been over warm with fever was now chilled. Shock? What the hell had happened?

With practiced efficiency I elevated his legs and pulled several layers of blankets up around his now shivering form. Then I lifted his shoulders enough to slide under and hug him in my lap, adding my own body heat to the warming blankets.

“ELIZON! Dah Seer! Whad iz rung? I smeil blud. HIZ blud. Hiz smeil haz change tu. Dam yu Elizon…” I twisted to see Abel straining at his bonds, thrashing from side to side. I realized that though unable to see or hear, the other was still able to smell. And right now there was plenty to smell. And apparently Sentinels instinctively reacted negatively to the smell of Guide blood. Unintentionally my own nose cranked up. The hemorrhage from Blair's bloody nose was small yet the scent overpowering to the point I almost gagged.

I had never told Sandburg about my being able to differentiate the scent of his blood just as well as I could his body scent. But I could. Just another of those damn things I avoided thinking about by not talking about it.

Tensing I watched as Abel continued to struggle against his bonds. Though the riot cuffs stretched, the cuffs rattled and the ropes thinned, they all held firm. Then the giant suddenly went rigid, mouth dropped open and behind the blindfold I knew I would find eyes vacant in expression. He had over focused on smell. A zone.

I looked at him with no sympathy and less interest. Assured that he was at least for the moment not a threat I turned my attention back to what really mattered.

As my own senses curled around the limp form I held I was relieved when I discerned the easing of both the speed of his pulse and the bleeding from his nose. Dipping a bit of cloth in water I gently swabbed at the congealed red above his lips.

Over the next minute or so Blair went from very relaxed to steel tense. His breathing caught on the edge of a panic attack again and I held him close trying to protect him from whatever dream haunted him. I rocked him, cooed shamelessly into his curls, trying to calm him. All my senses focused on him.

Suddenly he seemed to deflate. A mumbled, half heard 'no way' trembled from between his lips and the anguish in the tone almost wrung tears from my eyes. I hugged him even tighter to me.

Then he took a deep shuddering breath and opened his eyes to blink owl like up at me. Since his head was in my lap, my head looking down appeared upside down to him, it took a second for his mind to decipher our positions. Even as he struggled to focus I found myself breathing in his stronger than usual true scent, catching a deeper tang, different than before, pouring off him. Something within my mind quivered with pleasure. Before I really registered the feeling, a shy smile cracked Blair's lips and he whispered out a profoundly sincere, “Love ya Jim. My brother, my Sentinel.”

Damn. I couldn't get my voice around the lump suddenly in my throat. How could any mere words respond to that statement, that tone, that look. But there was no way I was going to give myself a pass on this. To many times the words hadn't been said, the feelings not expressed. I couldn't, wouldn't do that now.

“My brother, MY Guide!” Reaching down I brushed my fingers tenderly down his now slightly flushed cheek. “I love you.” Considering how rarely I had ever been able to push those words out of my mouth, it was so easy in this circumstance, with this rare and special person. I did love him, not because he had kept me sane, not because I'd have eaten a bullet long before now without him. No, though those definitely increased my gratitude, they were not the main things.

I loved this man because he could love me. Because he was all wonder and joy and awe, a glowing light of a spirit that had dragged my sorry ass out of a darkness so deep the bottom floor was hell. He made friends so easily he could have picked someone a lot less of a hassle than me for a best friend. He could've had an easy life with other bright souls like himself but he'd chosen to stand at my side.

And he was willing to fight so hard for me. That part really blew me away. I of all people knew Blair's kind and gentle side, his forgiving ways. But I also knew the core of industrial steel under it all. He knew what was right and would never just take the easy way out. And he was a terrier from hell when he was convinced something had to be done.

How many times had he gone up against me to save me from myself? It had been a surprise the first time I really experienced the Teaching Fellow's temper. I had in my checkered career invoked such fear in some opponents that they'd been reduced to tears or soiling themselves. I on the other hand had never been bullied into doing anything since I was ten years old. But Blair, almost half a foot shorter and nearly five stone lighter, had tormented, harassed and generally forced me to do the right thing, repeatedly. And there was no bluff or pretense to it when it happened. If it was for my own good he was ferocious.

Looking into his sparkling blue eyes I glimpsed that ferocity under the deep emotion. His lips moved and a whisper I think was not meant even for Sentinel ears hissed out. “Never let you be hurt, never. No way.” A promise, vow, prayer? Whatever he meant I saw that my own fierce protectiveness of him was mirrored for me in him.

As if noticing he had spoken out loud Blair suddenly shifted and tried to sit, frustrated when my clinging hug made it impossible.

“Jim? Wanna let me up?” He wriggled his shoulders and tried again. This time I helped lever him up to a sitting position, though I still held him lightly, his back to my chest. This clingy need was beyond my control right then and concerned me not at all.

“I'm okay Jim.” He intoned reassuringly as he stroked the arm that I had plastered across his chest, holding him against mine.

“You passed out Chief.” I grunted with not well-concealed accusation. “Went into shock.” I paused, unsure… thinking hard… before growling out, “And you HEALED my shoulder!”

“Oh…”

“OH! Just OH! Believe me Sandburg, I am going to hear a whole lot more than 'Oh' out of you or so help me I'll…”

He snickered! Damn it to hell… he snickered at me.

“Sandburg!” Fury now cemented each syllable.

“Sorry Jim. Sorry, really…” He snickered again. “But what could you do? Knock me out for passing out?” He had started to giggle now. I recognized the signs of an adrenaline rebound. After the worst of a scary situation was past Sandburg frequently turned goofy with relief. This was that kind of thing.

I watched the silly expression pass, then he twisted his position out of my arms to kneel across from me again. For a second he just stared intently at my face, reading something there that only he could.

“I saw Incacha.” His eyes burned unmoving into mine. So he must have seen the momentary fleeting pain of memory the name brought. His hand came out to lightly grip my forearm. “He really cared for you man. Still does.”

“You had a vision?” I asked the question with a definite wariness. Like I said before, visions usually portend some damn bad times.

“Yeah. It was…well, it was… heck you know! You've had several of the things.” Seeing him speechless was quite an occasion. I smiled at him feeling the warm fondness for him clean to my toes.

“Yeah Chief, I've had some. How about you tell me about yours.” I reached forward to pull a blanket up over his shoulders like a shawl. He had not even realized he was chilled but I had seen the tiny shivers and reacted instinctively.

“Thanks man.” He murmured softly as he pulled the cover tighter. Then he carefully arranged his legs in the half lotus, preparing somehow to communicate his experience.

I listened as he took me pace by pace through his sojourn onto the spirit plane, his natural teaching skills painting such clear imagery that I almost felt the experience first hand. I reveled in his realization of his Guide status, chuckled at his nervous intercourse with the so amused Incacha, felt awe transmute to stark terror as he calmly explained the detriment of the healing expenditure, and before my alarm could be voiced, heard his despair at Incacha's disclosure of the potential consequence of our bond.

His tone was fatalistic as he spoke of Incacha's attempt to calm his fears. He now experienced the same worry that had so often tortured me. My need for him placed him at hazard, now he felt the same guilt by association placed on me. Fitting, but hard to deal with just the same.

Feeling his distress I caught his face between both hands and leaned in almost nose-to-nose. “I'm not going anywhere Chief, and neither are you. Whatever happens…we will be okay. I know this as surely as the sunrise and taxes.”

His voice so timid, so uncharacteristically lacking in confidence, “But if I screw up…if I get… you know…killed.” The fact that he was upset not as much by his own potential death as mine drove me ballistic.

“It isn't going to happen. Period. You are going to live long enough to make your great, great grandkids as crazy as you make me. So forget about it. You're the one who's always going on about 'negative vibes', well this is one of those things that you just don't dwell on.”

Then he did the worst thing he could do to me right then. Crystal tears gathered and traced silvery paths down his cheeks and that damn sadness in his eyes ripped holes in my soul. “It just is scary man, I die, you die… I don't want you to die.”

Oh Blair! My hands released his face and pulled him back into a rib-damaging hug. Knowing it wasn't what he wanted to hear, but knowing it had to be said I murmured softly into a curl covered ear. “If you were gone Chief… I really wouldn't want to be left behind, I'd have to follow, ya know. We're a team. You. Me. Forever. And maybe beyond.”

“Whither thou goest…” His voice was trembling slightly, but there was something else in the nonsequiter.

“What?” I asked softly, leaning back to view his intent face again, knowing whatever he meant, it was important.

“It's from the Bible Jim. The story of Ruth; 'And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.”

I couldn't remember the context of the phrase, I hadn't been to church since I was nine, but hearing the phrase that so mirrored our situation, I couldn't resist. “Well Chief, you've got the first three down pat. You 'follow after' no matter how often I 'intreat' you to stay in the truck, and we both know the lodging situation. My people…well some days you spend more time with the guys at Major Crimes then I do. Thy God…? I don't plan to convert, but I kinda think we both look to the same source, if not the same building.” Casting back into my memory I managed to dredge up some of the details that went with the axiom. “Okay Chief, let's see, Ruth's a lady who was married to a Jewish guy who was killed, so she and her mother were left with no one to support them. To try to keep Ruth from starvation her mother tried to convince her to leave her.” I summarized.

“Not her mother, her mother-in-law.” Sandburg the Teaching Fellow was back. “There was no blood relationship. With her husband…,” he paused to smirk, “the Jewish guy, dead, Ruth's responsibility to his mother officially ended. That's how things were done back then. In those times a woman without a husband or son had little chance of survival. And it was a time of famine on top of it. So sticking with an old, ill woman who wasn't even a blood relative was unheard of.” He'd become serious again.

“If Ruth went out on her own she might have found a new husband, she was young enough and healthy. But especially during hard times no man would take some other man's old, sick mother in, even to get Ruth. But Ruth refused to leave, her love was stronger than fear, or blood, or even her faith, she wasn't even a Jew. She knew it likely would cost her her life and she still made the choice to stay. Blood relative or no, she couldn't leave.”

His eyes now bored into mine with that incredible intensity. “It was all about love.”

I returned the look, understanding now. “Till death do they part huh Chief?” I felt the trembling in my heart. The organ had gotten more exercise lately than it was use to, but it felt great.

“Yeah Jim…like us.” A quiet peace had settled over him, supplanting the earlier pain and despair. And I knew that he'd finally accepted it all, friends, brothers, Guide and Sentinel and the soul-bonded connection that was included. And seeing that in him produced its echo in me. The something deep inside me roared with joy. My Guide!

Just then a little light went off in my head as I remembered another little piece of the story of Ruth. “Chief…correct me if I'm wrong, but if I remember right, wasn't the mother in laws name…”

“Yeah Jim…the mother in laws name… it was Naomi.” And the smile lit the cave brighter than any glow from the fire.

I grabbed him up into one more intense hug.

“I love you Jim.” He murmured contentedly.

“I love you Blair.” I returned with absolute conviction, no confusion, no embarrassment.

I was a Guide, Jim's Guide! And in some incredibly weird way not even the fear that the price of the ticket for the roller-coaster ride was a lot steeper than I had realized, could diminish the joy I was feeling. I felt inside me the wolf howling a happy song, unconcerned with the possible future and caring only about the contentment of the now.

I, non-wolfy Blair, on the other hand desperately wanted to do some heavy duty mellowing. Feeling somewhat stronger I started to pull my legs up into lotus position. Right now I needed to meditate. This latest revelation on top of the traumatic week I'd already had had left me no time to 'process' it all.

But of course this is me we're talking about, so of course as I started to shift into position my eyes glanced over to the other end of the cave where Abel sat. I'd managed to put the mammoth out of my mind for a bit, but now I saw him. Saw him sitting like a carved statue, unmoving, mouth slightly open. Zoned!

“Shit! Abel's zoned Jim.” I barked with just a touch of alarm, wondering how long ago that'd happened.

“Yeah. I know.” To say his tone was unconcerned would have been a huge understatement. But I shouldn't have been surprised. He'd been keeping one eye peeled on the potential challenger 24/7 through all this, so there was no way he wouldn't have noticed the change in pulse and respiration that had to have accompanied the giant's decent into the fugue state of a zone.

With a little sigh I looked over at where Jim was still kneeling on the pallet across from me. “How long Jim?” I asked patiently. I couldn't very well expect either the cop or Sentinel to have jumped to Abel's rescue. Right then even I was loath to have anything to do with the criminal.

I caught myself and thought about that for a moment. Cause it was true? For some reason something in me was physically ill at the thought of touching the man, the Sentinel who was not Jim? I'd been real unhappy with the guy before, but since my little walk with Incacha the feeling was more pronounced, like I'd undergone some kind of psychic aversion therapy. But if left in the zone there was always the possibility that the giant would stop breathing. And no matter what else, I couldn't leave a man to die, helpless like that… even Abel.

“Oh…About an hour.” Jim's nonchalance was almost amusing. I could distinctly hear the Jaguar's growl beneath his tone. Yep, as far as the instinctual Sentinel portion of him was concerned the emotion toward Abel was definitely 'Died? Oopps, didn't notice, not sorry.'

With another sigh I rose unsteadily to my feet. Immediately Jim hopped up and took a strong grip on my arm. His assist kept me upright and then he continued the hold as I moved across the cave, but I didn't miss the ongoing just sub-vocal rumble as we went.

When I got just a stride away from Abel I came to a halt, feeling a weird uneasy shiver move through me. I didn't want to touch him? I rrrrreeeeaaaaallllyyyy did not want to touch the other Sentinel at all? Almost like I thought it would hurt. THIS IS SO WEIRD!

Taking a deep breath I reached down to the giant shoulder and sure enough a ripple of discomfort cramped up my arm and into my center.

Jim's grip on me shifted and he was suddenly trying to pull me away. “Leave him.” He growled. But I could see that Abel was breathing so shallow his chest barely moved. I just could not ignore that, even though I had a flash of an image of a bristling wolf crouching by a trapped bear, growling and upset.

“No.” I snapped with impatience. I didn't want to do this any more than he wanted me to. But I would not abandon a helpless person. Ignoring the cramping pain I tightened my grip and knelt in front of the huge man. I eased the blindfold up slightly, seeing the concrete gray eyes were open and frozen on some impossibly distant point. Moving the blindfold had also shifted the pads that deafened the big man.

Touch, sight and sound were the strongest senses for retrieving a Sentinel from a zone, or at least had been with Jim and Alex. “Abel…Listen to my voice. Focus on the sound. Feel my touch on your arm. Now see the light of the fire in front of you. You need to get back to here and now.” I didn't verbalize that I needed this to happen soon as the cramps in my arm were progressing from a semi ouch to a definite intolerable pain.

When a particularly unpleasant zap moved through where I was anchored to the other I lost my own focus. Gritting my teeth I decided to screw finesse and go to a technique that I had used it the early days with Jim when he was taking too long to come back. Letting go of the shoulder I shifted my weight slightly, shouted an impatient “Hey wake up!” and laid an open handed slap hard across the stubbly bearded face.

Abel came around with a roar that would have done his spirit bear proud. His eyes snapped to awareness and latched onto me like I was the only meat at a carnivore convention. He began screaming in that stilted English, “You! Ee chang you. Wha ee do? You smeil liig im now! NO! You av tu beh mine!” Then he made the mistake of lunging toward me, oblivious of the dozen or so restraints he wore. In my present state of health I couldn't have avoided the lunge of an arthritic tortoise, but suddenly I was standing three feet away from Abel with a snarling Jim in between. It took a moment for my mind to replay the lightening fast way Jim had snatched me by the nape of my neck, lifted and shifted me around behind him, like a big cat moving it's cub out of harms way. In the fraction of a second it took me to realize what he'd done Jim had also piled a fist down and across the giant's jaw, smashing him to the floor with Herculean strength augmented by fury.

I looked from Jim, breathing hard and radiating possessive aggression, to Abel, breathing steadily but out cold with a split lip. “Well…at least he's not zoned anymore.” I said with what I hoped was recognized as seeing the best in a bad situation. But Jim looked up from glaring at the unconscious behemoth to me with no decrease in the glare factor.

Hell, just a few minutes ago we had been so in sync with each other. Practically wearing shared skin. Now it was like I faced another person, but I realized it was somehow a facet of the Sentinel personality. This Jim looked ready to maybe put me out cold right next to Abel if it was the only way to keep me safe from my more altruistic impulses. Instead though he just moved up to stand right in front of me, took a deeeeepppp inhale through his nose, focused his eyes unwaveringly on my face and reached out to carefully lay his hand on my shoulder. By the tilt of his head I also realized he was listening to something with Sentinel ears.

In the time it took to describe it, all trace of tension flowed from his expression. I realized he was using me to set his baselines, but there was something more to it than the usual. He had told me that sometimes the dials got out of whack and he needed to use my familiar settings to sort of recalibrate the equalizer on the senses. But there was something, I don't know, more intense about what he was doing now. I could actually feel him scanning me, something I'd never been able to before.

“Did you know, what he said, it's true. You're scent is different.” Jim's faraway tone surprised me more than the question.

“Ugh, no. I didn't. How so?” I tried not to sound worried, but Jim had that weird, 'waaayyy to mellow for Ellison' look on his face again.

“It's more complex, with layers. There is your usual odor plus there are under scents. You, and you with a sharper, edgier tang, than a different layer that is sort of a combination scent.” His expression was even more discombobulated now, not vacant but definitely intoxicated. His hand moved from my shoulder to my hair and began to card through it, over and over, as his expression got goofier and goofier.

“Jim! Snap out of it. You're acting like your spirit Jaguar got into the catnip man.” I took a step back to distance myself from him a little. That was not apparently what was wanted, because the expression went from half dozed to possessive in a blink. He stepped forward and took my arm in a no nonsense grip and half supported, half frog marched me back to the pallet by the fire.

“You're worn out. Get some sleep. And stay away from him!”

A wiseass response came to my lips but the look in Jim's eyes penetrated even my stubborn nature. Whatever was going on with the man, the more primal Sentinel had definitely popped into the drivers seat. Again. This misadventure had let the more animistic persona out of the bottle, and I doubted it could ever wholly be put back in.

Deciding to err toward the side of common sense I kept my mouth shut for a change and settled onto the bedding. But instead of lowering myself to recline in sleep I pulled achy legs into lotus position. Despite the hiss of anger it provoked from my companion, I needed to meditate, and with everything that had and was happening, I was going to take the opportunity.

Deep, slow paced breathing eased me from tension and discomfort into tingly relaxation. Focusing on my favorite mantra I tried to distance myself from the distractions of my body's many complaints, the weakness that shook through me, the ache behind my eyes, the thrumming feel of Jim's presence just a few feet away…

Huh?

That slammed me right out of my near trance.

I could actually feel Jim's presence nearby? SINCE WHEN? Looking over to where Jim crouched between me and Abel, still looking more like a pissed off feline than my best friend, I tried intentionally to feel that odd thrumming sensation that I had instinctually identified as a connection to Jim.

Of course since I was now trying to find it, I couldn't. For a moment I worried that I'd imagined it, but I'm a scientist after all. First thing they drilled into me in school; empirical theories, to repeat the result, repeat the circumstances.

Being awash with excitement is not conducive to meditation, so it took a lot of discipline to settle into calm, deep breathing. But eventually I managed.

Now that I knew what to look for I found it as soon as I sunk into the disconnected early trance state. I was distinctly aware of a soft vibration tugging at my senses. Careful not to get too hyped I continued deeper into the quasi-hypnotic state and was even more aware of the feeling. It was a combination of a tugging attachment in the back of my mind, and a thread leading off toward Jim. And along with the thrumming sense of connection, came a subdued but clear impression of untamed aggression, concern and protectiveness.

Holding my serene composure as I sank even deeper I was comforted by the impression of security seeming to ooze off Jim across to me. Encouraged I reached out over the connection. But remembering Incacha's admonishment on pushing without thinking I advanced slowly. It seemed as though as soon as I moved along the tether my contact soothed and calmed the volatile emotions I was sensing.

Moving further into trance than I had ever gone I found my mind sharply aware on two distinct levels. Unlike my regular meditation sessions that allowed me to disconnect from my worries and thoughts, I now was sharply alert, thinking fast and clearly while sensitive to the secondary impulses vibrating across the link. It felt right.

Link? If it was a link, was it an extension of the Sentinel/Guide thing? An evolutionary selection for a symbiotic type of bond between the two? For what reason? Maybe straight out survival. Incacha had pretty much spelled out how deeply the Sentinel and Guide were bound, how mutually reliant they were on each other. By the process of natural selection those who got separated would be more likely to fall to enemies or predation. As a result they would be less likely to live long enough to reproduce. While those strongly tied by some near psychic connection would have an edge that might extend their life expectancy and be passed down to succeeding generations. Bred into the very essence of the Sentinel's and Guide's make up.

But this wasn't a truly psychic connection, I wasn't hearing Jim's thoughts. No… it was sort of like catching an echo of his emotions. Not telepathy. Empathy! Yeah, that was a more accurate description of what I was experiencing.

If so though, how come I'd never felt this…bond… before? I meditated regularly, more so since meeting up with Jim. I'd never gotten this deep, nor been so attuned to my own senses, much less Jim's. Why now?

Jim had come on-line again as a Sentinel after a traumatic period of conflict, and he was isolated from his familiar associations and environment. Alex had her abilities pop up after a traumatic prison time in isolation. Maybe the same thing could trigger something in a latent Guide. This past week, bouncing from one terror to another, each of us with only the other to rely on, to cling to. In constant close proximity, yet both in totally unfamiliar surroundings.

After all this I had finally accepted my own destined purpose, I had had my first non-death related vision, flexed my Shaman capabilities, sort of, and generally been a bit traumatized myself. Had I in effect 'come on-line' as a Guide? And this empathic link was part of my enhancement, like Jim's were his senses.

I thought back to what Abel had said when he'd come out of the zone, about how my scent was combined with Jim's. What had Jim said later? My scent was different, layered…combined? What if I had indeed come on line and as a result some biological response had altered my scent. Animals communicated vast amounts of information with scent. Markers expressed gender, health, mating readiness, all wafting on the winds to be read by receptive member's of the species. They could identify individuals that had been separated for years, know their members from hundreds of others who appeared almost identical. And scent definitely changed with condition.

Sight also played a vital part in discriminating group members. Birds knew filial connections from first sight. No, that wasn't quite right. They would latch onto the first thing they saw, even if it wasn't of their species. I had read about Geese who hatched out and followed humans who they considered 'mommy'. But the message was clear, once I.D.ed the connection was permanent.

But most mammals used a combination of signals to identify each other. Sight, sound, scent being the primary ones because of their usefulness over distance. Taste and touch could be even more intense, but they required vicinity. Maybe Sentinels, who had access to senses that were much more acute and primal, had retained the ability to literally fix certain things on those senses. Like maybe their Guide's vital features!

Those attacks of 'major mellow' that Jim had been having lately. Each time he'd been anchoring his senses on me.

Imprinting! Jim had been imprinting on me, my scent, sound, appearance, touch, maybe even a bit of taste through air inhalation. Memorizing me in a way only a Sentinel could. Cool!

Deep and comfortable in the meditative state I felt along the thread of connection, giving it a little tug and feeling very satisfied when I felt the echo of Jim's guarding presence along it. The feelings coming along the link spoke so much more eloquently then words of how Jim cared, even cherished me. Somehow that feeling was like a balm on my confusion over my recent mistakes and failures. For a time I meditated on that and many other things, until I felt focused and accepting. Once the contemplation had done it's job I felt a point pass when my meditation eased back into simple relaxation and finally drooped into sleep.

“Sandburg?” I leaned in a little closer until I was almost nose-to-nose with him. Or nose to curls actually. For over two hours he'd sat there like Buddha, meditating quietly on who the hell knows what. But about ten minutes ago his posture had slumped slightly and his head drooped so his chin rested on his chest. His breathing was still even and deep, but slightly different.

I was used to him meditating for long periods at the loft. Depending on how bad things were going in his life he would sometimes make like a statue for hours. His much touted 'personal best' being five and a half hours of making like a potted plant? Go figure.

But that hadn't been when he'd been frozen, sick, spooked, chased etc. He needed rest, not meditation! If I didn't know from experience that shaking him out of meditation suddenly left him with a blinding headache, I'd be shaking him right now.

So here I was kneeling in front of him like a supplicant to Buddha. As I was trying to think of what to do to try to rouse him without hurting him, he snuffled once and let a deep snore rip right into my face mere inches from his. Startled back onto my haunches, I almost growled at him. He was asleep…sitting up, in lotus position! The snoring shifted tone as he slumped slightly more forward.

I couldn't help it, I had to chuckle. Only Sandburg! With gentle hands on his shoulders I eased him just a bit to the side so he wilted more onto the pallet of blankets. Then carefully I untangled and straightened his legs so that he now lay extended on his side across the bedding. Almost immediately he curled up into near fetal position, shivering slightly. Grabbing the loose blankets I swaddled him like a newborn, tucked them around him leaving only his head exposed.

During the whole rearranging, Blair's snoring never missed a beat. Safe in the knowledge that he was deeply asleep I couldn't resist extending my hand to brush the back of my fingers across his forehead, not even lying to myself that it was to check a now non-existent fever. I did so because it felt right and it was becoming easier to admit so.

I thought about that for a moment. Since we had been dumped on this mountain I had felt a progressive change not only in Sandburg, but myself. Bit by bit, hour by hour I'd found subtle alterations in my awareness of the quirky man who was my Guide. I was more hypersensitive to him than ever before. And the fact that I'd talked…really talked to him, about him, about me, about my feelings. Well I guess hell must have frozen over, because I'd always told myself that would have to happen before I'd turn all chatty Cathy about myself.

Add to that the new little wrinkles with Sandburg. I'd done my best to try taking his having a vision and seeing Incacha in stride. He'd been thrilled, so I didn't want to rain on his enthusiastic anticipation. And I admit I'd been happy that he'd finally accepted his unique nature. But sue me, I just wanted him to accept what he was, not have any new crap added. Not more mystical shit especially.

Healing! Okay, sounded good, then the little bit in the small print…healing that sucked the life force out of Blair like a vacuum and almost had him stroke out. Nope, not good, especially with my too softhearted friend who tended to help first and think second, as Incacha had warned.

And there was also the other thing. The well… tether, for want of a better word. Over the last couple of days I'd noticed a weird something binding us together, getting stronger and stronger, to where now I could tell when he was near and where he was in relation to me almost constantly. It appeared to be a connection beyond just my senses, or at least not the regular old five. Maybe as Blair posited, my sixth sense was also enhanced. But the tether only seemed to really be noticeable when he was awake, like it originated with him.

Further disconcerting, at least to me, was a distinct calming influence seemed to ooze from Blair's every pore and resonate across the tether, so that I found myself almost sedated in his presence.

Despite his juggernaut terrier tenacity, Sandburg had a generally mellow nature that contrasted starkly with my own strike first, read em' their rights next, and worry about feelings later approach. I'd always felt the safest way to deal with the harsh world I lived in was assume the worst, that way you were prepared for it. Having Mr. 'Positive vibes' around had countered my impulse to pound someone into paste more than once when I was out of control. But his affect on my moods and temper had never been as pronounced as the sway he seemed to hold now.

What was going on? It all had to be connected to his acknowledgment as a Guide, now that he'd finally accepted his very real calling some parcel of latent abilities that he'd either not previously had or not known he had, was coming out. It was a bit like when I'd spent a week in the woods and gone from being plain ole' me to being me with the Sentinel accessory package. But Sandburg had never been without a whole bundle of unique gifts before, but this mystic stuff…and the price. Why was there always a string attached to these Sentinel/Guide things. I get enhanced senses with a little matter of catatonia with respiratory shut down as the booby prize, Blair gets healing with the little zinger that the curative gift hurt him in the process.

Considering the penalty for those talents, I had to wonder not only what was the purpose of the tether and Valium like mood mellowing exuded by my presently sleeping partner, but also what cost would they exact of him?

I didn't like any of it. I'd have been perfectly happy if he just realized that he wasn't just some 'accidental tourist' who'd happened to discover a Sentinel and latch onto him. I just wanted the confidence and self-assurance he brought to so many things in his life to extend to his Guide status. Maybe a part of it was still guilt…Blair says I do guilt really well.

When we'd first meet the young professor had bubbled with absolute faith in himself, his ability to figure anything out, accomplish anything he set his mind to. It bothered me that my distrustful nature and constant doubt had eroded that. A thousand little things like the toned down clothes, the frequent deference to me and my wants, the acceptance of my unreasonable moods without complaint, all marks of how I'd chipped away at his self-belief. The whole Alex debacle wouldn't, couldn't have happened if I hadn't made Blair doubt himself. The Blair of the sky blue patchwork vest would never have accepted me kicking him out of his home, never have swallowed being unjustly accused of betrayal without fighting back. Never have died.

Yeah, maybe there is still just a little guilt involved in my motivation for him seeing his contribution as a Guide for the big deal it was. Which he finally had. Whooppee. But did it have to have the extra hazardous magic mumbo jumbo?

Well the person I would normally look to for some answers to this kind of hypothetical positing…was asleep. And I was stroking his head like he was some kind of puppy, for crying out loud. And it felt good, calming, reassuring… and only every few seconds did some feral primitive something deep inside me chant “mine, mine, mine”.

Seeing him bundled up and sleeping safely in front of me filled me with an undeniable contentment. This cave had become my territory. My Guide was safe, under my protection and recovering his strength and health. During Sandburg's meditation session I'd re-wrapped Abel's eye's and ears and checked his bonds. He wasn't going anywhere. And though I didn't like him being anywhere near Blair, at least I was comfortable that the enemy Sentinel had been neutralized.

Feeling something had been settled inside my head I lowered myself down beside my snoring Guide. As I pulled a single blanket over myself I felt Blair shift. Despite being wrapped like a sausage in blankets, he still managed to scoot closer to me and burrow under my shoulder without waking up. Doing a quick scan I was please to hear his lungs were not quite as congested and all his other vitals were steady and strong. Relieved somewhat by that reassurance I felt lulled by his snuffling snores and the warmth of his body beside me, sleep came easily.

I had slept uninterrupted for over six hours when I snapped completely awake and sat up, hunting for whatever threat had impinged on my sleeping mind. But extending my senses I was unable to find anything unusual that had forced me from sleep to full alert. Both Abel and Blair were still deeply asleep, the fire had not gone out, everything looked and smelled and sounded quiet.

Quiet? With that I realized one thing that was different. The constant background hiss and roar of the wind just outside had vanished. Beyond our little confined space there was absolute silence.

Careful not to disturb my still oblivious Guide I eased from the pallet we shared and padded softly to the entrance. Forcing the icy door away from the opening proved difficult, as snow on the outside had drifted halfway up the frozen panel. But with perseverance and a little leverage I finally eased out the crevice. Pushing away waist deep snow on the ledge I blinked in the half-light of impending dawn. The storm was over, replaced with an eerie absence of wind, snow, or sound. Nothing moved. Everything in every direction was enshrouded in a muffling snow layer and the silence was eerie. Yet, though still viciously cold, compared to what we had experienced the last thirty odd hours, it seemed almost pleasant out.

The trees in the nearby woods were invisible from refraction off the ice that weighed their stark branches. The cliff face also glowed with a white jacket of snow and ice that the force of the wind had pounded into the surface.

A tiny movement halfway across my visual field drew my eyes instantly. Unconsciously Sentinel sight snapped on line and zeroed in on the minute shift. As my view zoomed in tight I realized I was had spotted a snowshoe hare just exiting its hole. It was immaculately white against the snow and ice around it. The lack of any contrast had me having to concentrate hard to differentiate the details of the animal versus the environment. It was like looking for diamonds in water. It was . . .

It had been a really great dream, warm and relaxing. I'd been curled in my now familiar open field, lulled by the sun's warmth and the easy murmur of the tall grasses blowing around me. I'd been comfortable and protected by the large black jaguar that had scooted in up against my body sharing warmth and soothing me with an endless melodic purring. And I'd been further contented by the silver wolf that had lolled his front paws and head across my lower body his tongue hanging out as he smiled unmistakably at me.

But now something was tugging at me, shaking the dreamscape and chilling me deeply. The panther suddenly rolled away from me, growled in distress and then simple winked out, vanishing. The wolf lifted his head and whined low in his throat, staring at me with some urgent message. Standing, the lupine paced back and forth in front of me, tail between legs, the ruff on his neck raised and stiff. I had the weird impulse to blurt out 'what is it Lassie, has Timmy fallen down the well?' The wolf's effort to communicate some problem was so obvious.

I recognized all this, but still resisted releasing the dream because I did know it was a dream. I rationalized the change from comfort to hazard in this fantasy scenario as some subconscious anxiety with all that had come before. But even as I tried to analyze the whole thing, I was dragging myself through the stages from sleep to waking because no matter what was going on, the tug was undeniable and the urgency increasing.

With a yawn so wide it was painful to my jaw I yanked myself to awareness and looked around. The fire was still stoked nicely, warming the cavern and throwing amber light to all its corners. Abel was slumped against the far wall, snoring like a dull saw through hard wood. And Jim was nowhere to be seen; at some point while I slept he had left the cave.

The tug now became a yanking pull that could not be denied, and I felt it was coming along the bond that I had discovered while I had meditated. Scrambling to my feet I rushed the entrance to the cave and leaned all my weight against the ice door. Jim needed me.

It wasn't easy, but I finally managed to pry the frozen panel away from the opening. At least open enough for me to squeeze through, and half fall out onto my knees in a cleared area on the ledge. The dawn sun had just risen past the horizon and was pouring through the surrounding trees. The frosty stalactites hanging from the branches had magnified the light like a prism and made everything an incredibly bright white. The intense glow bounced off the snow and trees and ice and illuminated our little ledge like a spotlight.

And in that spotlight stood Jim. Rigid and unaware, his eyes were open and fixed out on the white landscape below us. My heart went straight to hammering at mach six as I worried; how long had he been out here zoned, how long had his open eyes been exposed to the bright rays, was he breathing? All these questions poured adrenaline through me like jet fuel and I was off my knees, across the ledge and at Jim's side in a fraction of a second.

Moving around in front of him I put one hand on his arm and the other I eased in front of his face and blocked the light from his eyes.

“Jim.” I kept my voice pitched low. “Focus on my voice. Dial down your vision big guy; ignore the white light and just concentrate on hearing. Follow the sound back. Come on man. This is not a good place to be zoned. I'm talking to you here man…tune in.”

When about five minutes passed and he still didn't respond I started kneading the muscle of his arm that I had in my grasp. “Okay, lets try touch then. You can do this. Just pull back.” I pinched him, patted his face, socked him hard in the arm, even tried a pretty sharp slap.

When he still didn't respond I felt panic start. Even though he was wearing his coat and other warm clothing, his body was succumbing to the cold. Worse, his over focus on one sense was interfering with the autonomic functions, like breathing. His respirations were progressively slowing.

Removing a glove I grabbed one of Jim's earlobes and pinched my thumbnail into the flesh, hard! Nothing. Damn…no reaction to pain stimulus either. This was soooooo not cool. Grabbing one of his limp hands I laid his palm flat on my chest, just above my heart that right now was rattling along at a rapid clip. His breathing was so slow and shallow I could barely discern his chest moving. I could feel the slight tremor as his muscles started to tremble from anoxia and tension.

There had to be a way to reach him. Sight was screwed up, sound didn't seem to be making much impact, touch… no joy there either. Smell and taste? I didn't really have anything with a strong odor or taste to try, and there was no time to hunt for some.

No options, no solutions, but I had to reach him. What hadn't I tried? I closed my eyes as I part thought, part prayed. Had to reach him somehow. Had to reach… from some corner of my consciousness I felt the odd little twinge that I had identified in my meditation. The connection!

Maybe I could use the link, set up some kind of feedback stimulus to snap him out of the zone. Considering and deciding in a millisecond I gently fingered down Jim's eyelids to protect his vision and free my other hand.

Noticing I was biting my lip as I quickly enacted my plan, I had to consciously stop worrying at my lip and instead began my deep, cleansing breaths. In through the nose, hold it, out through the mouth. In, hold it, out. While doing that I reached up and cupped Jims lightly bearded face in my palm while using my other hand to still hold his hand over my heart

Closing my eyes I continued to concentrate on my breathing cycle, working to relax into a quasi-meditative state. And this time it was easier then before, when Jim's agitated emotions had fairly rolled off him, snapping along the bond like arch lightening. Now there was absolute calm…even more than calm. Absence of emotion. Nil.

With nothing to disrupt my own calm I quickly reached the level where I was able to sense the reassuring thrum along a thread of consciousness extending from me to Jim. Carefully I felt back along the tie between us. Tentative in my ignorance, afraid to hurt but desperate to reach my Sentinel, I pushed along the link feeling myself drawn further and further.

Just that suddenly I was enshrouded in comforting warmth that seemed familiar and homey. Noticing a strong force attracting me like some selective magnet I allowed myself to be drawn further into the welcoming sensation's direction.

A heartbeat later I got the impression that I'd come up against a barrier of some kind. Like I'd followed a string and now found the string disappearing through a knothole in a fence. Where the cord had offered a familiar echo of Jim, now there was no feeling at all, a numbness.

Not exactly sure how to navigate in this new sphere of consciousness I tentatively pushed up against the obstruction. My best clue was that the wall was the manifestation of Jim's zone. This total absence of feeling must be the result of an over stimulation of an enhanced sense.

Focusing hard I concentrated on trying to push through the barricade, visualizing it crumbling away before me. Visualizing it breaking apart and falling down. Visualizing a fissure appearing and then widening. Visualizing … awh…come on damn it! Jim had been zoned to long, through this bond I could sense his slowing pulse and breathing as if I were the Sentinel. I had to make this work! For a moment I fumbled around trying to recapture the healing power that had come so easy earlier. Incacha's warning or not, I'd have used the gift without hesitance right then. But I had no idea how to call up the power and I had no time for trial and error.

Damn! I'd finally accepted the existence of a…no..MY role as Jim's Guide, and what the hell good was I? What the hell good was this connection, this bond…if I couldn't use it to help Jim?

Frustrated, desperate and scared, I gathered every jot of strength I could dredge from within myself and hurled the lot together with my fear for my Sentinel and friend, straight at the stubborn wall of non-feeling.

A moment passed, than another, my head began to pound, and still I pushed. I felt a hard chill settle in me and still I pushed. I tasted metal in my mouth and pushed even harder. It became difficult to draw in air through my nose and I smelled the tang of blood of another nosebleed. I felt darkness creep over the edges of my senses and refused to let up, concentrating with all my might.

The collapse of resistance produced no sound. Just one moment I was struggling against something and the next it had vanished. My eyes snapped open in surprise to see Jim's eyes pop open at the same moment. He whooped in a long draft of air and shook himself stiffly.

Unfortunately I'd lost track of the fact that I was standing right in front of my large friend during this whole process. On a narrow, snow covered ledge. My stance in front of him meant I was backed right up to the edge. As he returned to awareness Jim bobbled slightly, his body weak from anoxia. It was only a little wobble that barely tapped me, but in my current position… poorly timed.

My hands windmilled wildly as I felt myself falling over backward. “Oh Shit!” I yelped weakly. But even as my heart began to trip hammer an iron grasp latched onto one of my gyrating arms and yanked me up and forward.

His pull caused me to slam against Jim, who wasn't completely back to full alertness yet, and thumped him back against the cliff face. Since he hadn't released his hold, I was hauled right off my feet to pound against him again. The next second was a blurred jumble as Jim slid down and I fell right on him. The waist deep snow cushioned the tangle but then complicated it by falling in to fill the hole we'd created, right over us.

I climbed clumsily to my feet, pushing up through the luckily loose snow piled on my back. Then stood panting, leaning up against the cliff face with snow up to my chest. I felt totally wrung out. Jim surfaced a second later looking weirdly like a ceramic bust with the snow obscuring his lower body. I started to make a crack about it but stopped when I saw the expression on Jim's face. His gaze was fixed rigidly on me and he was pale and flushed simultaneously.

He reached out a still slightly shaky hand to swab a gloved thumb across my upper lip. It came away smeared with a thick gel of red. His eyes bored into mine with some unfathomable message, and an obvious question.

“I zoned?” He ground out the inquiry, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” I replied in a voice I couldn't seem to crank up much past a croak.

“And… instead of using your tried and true methods to bring me out of it, you decided to try the healing again?” This was less a question than an accusation… through grinding teeth.

As tired as I felt, my temper still flared at the presumption. “NO JIM, I did not DECIDE to use healing. No, I wasn't trying to play with my new toys rather than use 'tried and true' techniques while you're standing there with your lungs shutting down in front of me.” I was hissing by the last, anger having achieved critical mass.

“But what if I had? This conversation is too damn old!” I literally shoved him out of my way without thinking of what damage he was capable of inflicting. “You know what Ellison? I think maybe you need to think on what you wanted me to accept. What I am. And what that is supposed to mean. I'm going back in the cave. I'm cold. And you…you had better think real hard about what you plan to say the next time you open your mouth.” I turned and walked, well really sort of stalked, back to the ice panel to wrestle it aside. Not easy with the thick drift of snow against it, but I managed.

He called me Ellison? Blair never calls me Ellison. No matter how angry he got, it was always Jim. Always. When he wasn't quite so upset, then it was 'Joe Friday' or 'big guy'. But never, ever Ellison?

I hit rewind on my memory back the last few minutes. Coming out of the zone had felt definitely different. I'd been aware of Blair presence as he drew me from the numbing emptiness. But not with his voice or touch like usual. Instead he'd reached into me and gently embraced my frozen core, thawing it with his warm concern.

Even before my thoughts had really straightened out enough to catch on to what was up I'd smelled the pungent tang of his blood. Having seen him with a nosebleed just hours before when he'd tried healing, I'd jumped to the natural conclusion.

So I'd snapped at him for his presumed folly. He's my Guide for crying out loud. It's my job to protect him, even from himself if necessary. So maybe I'd been wrong, he hadn't hurt himself trying to help me. I think?

I'd assumed… and been wrong. But it wasn't the first time. I'd erroneously landed on Sandburg quite a few times for all sorts of things, and he'd always just let the hurt or anger flow off him like dew off a duck's back.

But not this time.

His eyes had literally flashed with blue lightning he'd been so angry. What was different this time? What was it he'd said? “You need to think on what you wanted me to accept. What I am. And what that is supposed to mean.”

I'd wanted him to accept that he was a Guide. My Guide. And what was that supposed to mean? To him? To me?

I had known Blair was special for a long time now, and I'd wanted him to see himself as I did. I hadn't really wanted or expected the extra hocus pocus bit. But not Sandburg. He'd seen that part as some tangible proof of a change in him?

What change…he'd always been a Guide! We'd been doing this stuff for years already. Yet now that he felt changed, he suddenly expecting me to change? That he had finally taken on the mantel of Guide and Shaman was great. But what did he expect from me now?

Why had he reacted the way he had to my normal overprotective response to his risk taking? Like he'd said, we'd had the conversation over and over. And Sandburg was the expert on all things Sentinel. He'd read every line of every book and article on the subject, and had five years hands on experience with his own live specimen, me. He was also probably the only expert on one James Joseph Ellison. He couldn't doubt that he was my best friend. So, shouldn't he, as both my friend and my Guide, just have accepted my reaction and forgiven me like he usually did? Or was Blair's confirmation as a Guide and Shaman somehow altering either his expectations of me or his self?

He was a Guide. My Guide. Always had been, whether he'd chosen to see it or not. And to complicate things, he was a Shaman, drafted and welcomed by Incacha to those honored ranks.

Or maybe he'd always been a Shaman also, and Incacha had just recognized it? Not only possible, but very likely. What I remembered most about Incacha in our time together was his always teaching, explaining, counseling, and guiding. Not just me, but everyone in the tribe. And who else could those words better describe than Sandburg? It was so easy to find comparisons between the kid and my honored mentor.

Honored? Blair's words echoed in my mind again. “What I am. And what that is supposed to mean.”

And suddenly to my shame, I got it. What Blair expected, what he felt was his due as Guide and Shaman, was what he had maybe not felt entitled to as just himself. Respect!

I thought of some of the arguments we'd had since our parachute ride to this ice covered rock. Each of us risking almost everything for the other. I had felt the drive both as friend and Sentinel to protect Blair. It was obvious he felt the same drive toward me. But I couldn't abide his being hurt, especially when he was hurt because of me.

Yet…did I have the right to deny him responding to the same impulses that sometimes swamped me? In those long months holding the Chopec pass against the drug traffickers, how many times had Incacha protected my back or been injured on behalf of me or the tribe he was sworn to defend? Yet I had never presumed to disrespect the man or his mission in life by harassing him about his risk taking.

A part of me tried to rationalize that the situation with Incacha had been totally different. Cacha had been a couple of years older than I was, a trained hunter and warrior. Though he had honored all life, he had also understood the harsh necessities of sometimes having to kill. We had been at war against the drug cartels and the greedy others who had tried to decimate the Chopec's who occupied lands between lush drug croplands and rich oil fields.

Blair on the other hand was so young, and in many ways so innocent. Not innocent like inexperienced, he had been to the edges of the known world for cryin' out loud. But innocent in the trusting, faith in the goodness of people, all things work out in the end like they're meant to be, way. He really believed. Even now…after all he'd been through and seen, how the HELL could he… but that was Blair.

So maybe I felt he needed protecting more than Incacha .

Or maybe it was because as much I'd treasured and loved Incacha, what I felt toward Blair totally eclipsed it. Losing Incacha had hurt like a deep wound, and I would miss him as long as I lived. But I had left him in Peru years ago, and mourned his death in Cascade not to long ago. There had been grief, but I had survived.

There would be no recovery if I every lost Blair. When Incacha had informed my partner of that fact in the vision, he had merely confirmed what I had already known. I still remember how I'd felt, THAT DAY, at the fountain. It had been beyond pain, beyond grief, beyond any word could describe, and there was no way I would have survived if he had not come back.

So maybe I could excuse my over-protectiveness of Blair because he meant so much more to me than I could have ever believed possible.

But whatever the reason…was it appropriate? I maintained my 'right' to risk my ass to protect my tribe and Sandburg. Wasn't he just as entitled to make his own choices? Wasn't that why in the cave, when Sandburg had insisted on going out in a damn blizzard to save an enemy, I'd been unable to stop him.

We never have spoken those rules, but I know that uncross able line is there. Sentinel or no, being bigger and stronger, I had better never, ever try to physically force him to do anything against his will, or there will be hell to pay.

I don't know what the penalty would be…but I know it would be catastrophic to our friendship and I will not risk it. PERIOD!

I tried to visualize my intimidating Incacha, trying to run roughshod over him like I had done a few times with Blair. But the image just wouldn't form. The native wise man had been even shorter than my partner, but there was no doubt who had been in charge during my months among his people.

It was not the warrior's size that had mattered. I had followed Incacha without question. I had recognized his wisdom and ability to harness my violent skills. He'd held me on a tight rein during actual engagements with the enemy, channeling my fury, preventing my being consumed by such rage that I became dangerous to both my mission and myself.

Why had I not granted Blair an equal measure of that deference? I freely admit he's smart, smarter than me. And his creativity extended to making him extremely devious, okay…downright sneaky. In his own unassuming way he's a natural leader. Of course unless you kept close track you didn't even realize you're pretty much going where he wanted and doing what he'd maneuvered you to do. His students, the guys at the station, bad guys, and me…all fell for that 'who me' innocent bystander appearance while he manipulated us into following his weird little road, like Mary's little lambs.

Why couldn't I just let go and let him do what he felt sure he was supposed to do? As he had queried earlier, when would I let him be my Guide, my Shaman, and acknowledge his acceptance of the risks that that role could involve?

With stark insight I realized that Blair's growth as a Guide and Shaman was becoming a pivotal issue that could fracture our partnership. Previously, unsure of his role, he had tolerated my intermittent belligerence, my second-guessing him, and my doubts. But it was the doubts, perceived as distrust that had done our association the most harm. No amount of explanation about my warped life could change the facts. I just couldn't seem to just grant him the same trust he gave so unstintingly to me.

Why? Why when Blair tried to make suggestions, good one's, valid one's, did I have to snip, ignore, or over analyze, the hell out of it? I had never done that with Incacha…ummm, well not long anyway. My memories were so much chop suey of the events after the crash, but I was able to recollect images of my trying to impose my Western ideas on the tribe and Incacha easily putting me in my place.

With a jolt I now remembered early on, coming out of a deep zone to Incacha's smiling face as he gently explained to me that this was his tribe, his people. I could either join the team, or he would show me the way out of the valley, but Sentinel or not, I was not to try to push my ways or my people's wars on his people. The Chopec kept the cartel from using their pass not because of America's war on drugs, but because the violent men killed everyone and everything that crossed their path. This was Chopec territory and I could help them defend it, and achieve my mission coincidentally, or stay out of the way. I quickly realized just who was in charge, and it wasn't me.

Incacha had assumed control of our relationship from the first time I awoke and found him crouched over me. Blair on the other hand had deferred to me at first, merely making suggestions and offering ideas rather than trying to force cooperation in the use of my gifts.

Later, the natural teacher had become more assured in his self and his role as my Guide. When the occasion had needed him to, he had asserted himself to the point of literally bullying me into doing what was needed. He was capable; I had seen him repeatedly get the job done. He had less training for all this, yet kept up with me. Didn't that tell me something?

I took a deep breath of the freezing morning air and then let it out with a sigh. No matter how much I might want to keep Blair sequestered away from the risks of my job, in truth it wasn't my call. It never really had been.

I moved aside the icy barrier and scrunched through the opening to the cave, enjoying the wall of warmth that enveloped me as soon as I passed the threshold. My eyes immediately flipped from Blair, who was squatted down by the fire in the Lotus position, obviously meditating again, to Abel The giant was awake and judging from the tilt of his head, he was aware of my return despite his blindfold and earmuffs.

“Ellizon?” He hissed softly as soon as I began to walk by. “Ah god to go agin.”

I cursed as I moved away from Blair back toward the huge Sentinel.

It took about five minutes to rearrange all the bonds and handcuff the huge paws in front of the man. I ran the rope around his neck, down his back and then through the plastic restraints on his ankles that effectively hobbled him. He could walk now, but not run. He would be able to reach his zipper, but not bend over to fiddle with the hobbles.

Stepping away from the big man I made a point of displaying the gun as he shuffled past me to the entrance. His eyes shot daggers at me but he recognized that right now I had the advantage. But it took no imagination at all to realize that if the opportunity presented itself Abel would snap my neck without pause. The subtle hunger was still there every time his eyes flickered toward Blair. Beyond all logic the Sentinel still wanted to get hold of my Guide?

Within ten minutes the giant had forced back through the narrow opening and permitted his bonds to be put back in place. The tension radiating from the behemoth as I retied his blindfold was palpable, and my own aggression responded by tooling up a few notches. I really did not want this guy here near my Guide. Alive anyway.

Pushing the last handcuff closed I turned my back resolutely and continued toward my primary target. Blair hadn't moved in the entire time I'd been dealing with Abel, seemingly deep in meditation again.

Moving to a point directly across the fire from him I squatted down. My senses ran a quick diagnostic, relieved to note a decrease in his lung congestion and temperature. His heartbeat was the slow steady rhythm I had catalogued before when he meditated, and the smell of illness was now the barest whiff over his routine musky smell. Despite everything, he was getting well.

I really wanted to talk to Blair, but knew that he had retreated into this stance to give himself time to process and cool down. He didn't tend to blow up when angry, instead he withdrew into study or meditation, or he simply left. Considering Naomi's penchant for picking up and leaving whenever things didn't go the way she wanted, I had always been grateful that her son tended to just escape into his mind instead. I don't know how many times, in the early days, when I'd first learned of his nomadic upbringing I'd worried that one day he'd just get fed up and bolt on me. Especially when these kinds of confrontations took place. But he'd always stuck with me, and despite the crap I was putting him through now, I knew I could depend on him to stick through this also. But if I didn't change, would there come a day when even his patience would be exhausted?

I couldn't take that chance. But could I grant his equality in this partnership and the respect he was due? Trusting him with the burdens of that role…with my sanity, my soul and my heart.

Crouched before him I let my senses waft out in a nimbus of awareness with him as the anchoring center. I settled into a comfortable position, alert to everything in the immediate area, in and out of our cave. This felt right somehow, the Sentinel on guard over his Guide.

Damn it! No! Damn HIM! Him and his 'do as I say not as I do' way of looking at this. I have HAD IT! I will not go through this again. Jim takes one life threatening risk after another and then deep ends if I take the tiniest chance?? Uhh uh…no how, no way, NO MORE! Either I'm his Guide or not. I am not his little brother damn it! I don't need looking after…well, not as much as he seems to think I do! Damndamndamndamndamn….

I pulled my legs into lotus position so hard I ended up biting my lip as my hip joint complained the lack of stretching first. I knew I wasn't likely to be able to meditate as furious as I was. But it was all I could think of doing. I needed to calm down before I exploded or threw an aneurysm or something. Wrestling down the urge to jump up and throw stuff around to vent some of my anger, I instead dragged in a long deep breath, held it, then pushed it through pursed lips. After repeating this a few times I was so focused on my breathing that the anger and frustration leached away to be replaced with a wonderful wave of relaxation.

Rather surprised at my success I held the disciplined pacing of my respirations. The darkness behind my eyelids fell away to replaced with spiraling rainbow colors that summoned me. This was a little different from my usual meditation scenario, but I felt no alarm. Excitement claimed me as an unfamiliar floating sensation slid over me to be followed by the rainbow colors flowing away to reveal my grassy field. I guess it's official now, Jim gets the jungle, I get the forest clearing. Typical. But I had to admit the field was soothing and comforting to me.

I swung around, trying to decide what I should be doing here. I mean, what is the use of spirit walks if you just sort of stand around and smell the grass? I would have expected at least some kind of message. Unless maybe this was my own little personal time out spot? A special place to escape to. The next step up from simple meditation.

Maybe I was just here because I needed to chill out and get past my anger at Jim. Was that the message, that no matter what the provocation, the Guide needed to forgive the Sentinel?

Bull! What little time I'd seen Incacha deal with Jim it had been obvious the native Shaman had no intention of just accepting my partner's crap. When Jim had told Incacha that he had lost his Sentinel senses the man had cut through all of Jim's excuses and rationalizations. “A Sentinel will always be a Sentinel, as long as he chooses to be.” No consideration for the circumstances, Jim's trauma over accidentally shooting a guard. No slack cut, no excuse excepted, just flat out in your face facts. That had been Incacha.

Even as the recollection of that time intruded, so did the memory that in the end I had been the one left to get a distraught and uncooperative Jim to make the choice to reclaim his Sentinel gifts. I'd had to bully him out of his grief over Incacha's death to save the lives of the Chopec warriors still left in Cascade. But I'd managed it. I'd stood nose to nose with him and forced him to deal with his issues and get back on line.

I had managed it because I was right.

Moving in a slow mosey across the grass as I was deep in thought, I aimed toward the trees that circled my little private meadow. I began to try to analyze what I had done that time, and each time since when I'd been treated as a partner, not a subordinate, by my Sentinel.

“Beware Sinchij Munasqaykuna.” Incacha's voice, strident and sharp pulled me out of my concentration.

I spun around, hunting for the native. But I could see no one and the field remained mine alone.

“Incacha?” I called out as I continued to scan the verdant plain around me.

But no further calls intruded on the quiet of my private refuge, only silence.

No… not silence. Now that I was listening I definitely hear a growing sound. A mumble…now a growling, no louder now, a rumble becoming a crashing, now a roar!

Alarmed, my eyes flicked everywhere hunting the source of the sound. I turned in a slow circle, hoping to hear a change in the volume as my ear was nearest wherever the sound originated from. No change. Nothing? Hell Sandburg, you're in the dream plane for crying out. The physical laws of sound transmission don't probably apply here.

But again…this is a spiritual environment. Whatever was making the sound, did I need to really worry about it? I wasn't here physically. So…

So… Incacha's warning hadn't been my imagination. Something was wrong, and that sound was getting louder and louder. Something was definitely wrong here.

A burst of wind poured out of the trees, swooped across the grass to slam into me. Now I knew the direction. I turned into the air current and squinted trying to see to the horizon.

And then it was there. Crashing, roaring, tumbling, a moving wall as high as the tallest tree in my spirit woods.

AVALANCHE!

Every other thought vanished as I pivoted and dashed back the way I'd come.

“JJJJJJJJIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMMM!” Spirit plane or not, there was no doubt in my mind that this was somehow real, or at least a warning. Incacha had said beware. And boy this was one big attention getter.

On seemingly winged feet I boiled into the trees on the far side of my spirit meadow, deaf from the roar just behind me. Feeling the dust and rocks pelting me as I ran.

Momentarily blind with the grit, I blinked.

I launched forward.

And that suddenly I was back in the cave. Jim was flat on his back on the ground with me plastered across his front, nose to nose with him again. The heat of the cave was lost on me as I shivered.

“Jim…Jim! We gotta go man. Now. Now. Now.” I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my dazed Sentinel's arm and yanking him up with strength born of fearful adrenaline.

I didn't even notice I hadn't released him as I dragged him by his elbow toward the exit. As I shifted my grip and started to shove him through the exit my eyes glanced over the bound and blindfolded enemy Sentinel.

“Shit, get him loose Jim. HURRY!” I knelt and started tearing at the knots, not even noticing a deep, unhappy growl as all but the cuffs were quickly loosened.

“Sandburg…What the hell?”

Hands grabbed at my shoulders, hauled me up from my crouch and spun me around in one sharp movement. I was back nose-to-nose to a very confused and pissed off Sentinel. I was bouncing, panic, fear, desperation and a drive to get my Sentinel to safety was pounding in every cell in my body.

“Calm down Chief. What are you talking about?” Jim's voice was coached low; I think he was trying not to spook me even more. But I was so hyped at that point I felt only more frustrated.

“We gotta get out of here Jim. Use your ears man. LISTEN!” My gaze bored into his, forcing past his concern. Whether to humor me or unable to deny the Guide tone, I saw Jim's focus grow vague and his head cock to the side slightly in the tell tale stance of him using his Sentinel hearing.

Only a few seconds passed before he stiffened and snapped out of the concentration of using his senses.

“Did you hear? We need to get moving. Help me get Abel loose man. Hurry!” I was babbling, I knew it, but no way I could ignore the pressure building inside me. I felt like I could truly feel the rocks shifting, gathering speed toward me. And Jim! We had to get OUT!

“I heard it Chief, the melting snow is definitely causing some instability. I can hear several small landslides up the ridge. But we're safer in here than out there. Especially if a large slide occurs.”

“NO! Jim Incacha warned me, and I can feel it. We have to get out of this cave man. Trust me. I know it. I. KNOW. IT!” The desperation in my voice caused it to climb the scale. I was shaking violently now. Any second now I was going to throw Jim over my shoulder like a bloody caveman and haul him out!

Jim must have seen that idea in my expression because he actually took a step back in surprise. “Eeeasy Sandburg. Take a breath. You need to breath.” His hands settled back on my shoulders but he was nodding.

“Okay. We're going. Whatever has got you going this nuts must be serious. And I DO trust you.” The last was said with an unusual intensity. Like he was making some kind of promise to me?

Even as the barest trace of relief started to touch my panic, Jim stiffened, snarled and began to turn. Before he half pivoted Abel plowed into and over him, grabbing at me with wrists still trapped in cuffs.

Obviously the few knots I'd managed to loosen had been enough for the gigantic man to get free from the other restraints excepted for the keyed metal handcuffs.

A ham-sized hand caught my sleeve and some of my arm with bruising strength. But Jim was far from out of the contest. Even as the bigger man had trampled over him, my Sentinel wrapped his arms around Abel's tree like calves and twisted his entire body. The combination of weight, momentum and leverage flipped the giant off his legs to smack his shoulders against the cave wall.

Since he had a pretty substantial grip on me at the time, when Abel went down, he dragged me clean off my feet and I hit the ground right next to him. Rolling away I tore my sleeve from the huge hands grasp and pulled up to my hands and knees just inches from Jims still prone form. Then I jumped upright just in front of Jim who was half way to his own feet.

Just then I noticed both Sentinels in perfect synchronization turn to stare at the slab roof above. As if hit with a cattle prod Jim launched at me, his tackle carrying me over the fire toward the back of the cave.

At the same time I was flying backward through the air with Jim's shoulder buried in my gut, I heard a sound like the loudest gunshot in the world. Above me a black line snapped across the ceiling slab crackling away from the walls in sharp fractures. I saw Abel roll cat-like to his feet, glance over at us, then at the roof, and dive toward the entrance just as the ceiling divided into sections.

In seeming slow motion the flat block that had formed our roof sank in the middle along the fissure lines, while the outside edges remained firmly in place. Like three separate garage doors each section pivoted on the still supported edges, driving its opposite broken end into the ground to form a new, immovable wall.

I saw a panel several feet thick swing toward me as if on hinges, scrapping across Jims shoulders, I felt the rush of displaced air and then hard, cold unforgiving granite swatted me like a ………

Above me was open? Light was everywhere, stark, blazing but diluted by a dancing, unbreathable miasma. Snowflakes and microscopic flecks of dust where whirling like glitter in the air. If I could have gotten a clear thought through my brain I would have considered the best course of action to be throwing up. But in spite of the burning in my mouth, throat and lungs, that pain was dwarfed by the sharp agony at the back of my skull. Inside and out. Right that second I couldn't remember who or where I was, but my head hurt too much to even worry about it.

Working to focus past the dizziness and nausea, I tried to think. And even that hurt. As the dust settled around me I reached my hand to the back of my head, and it came away wet and sticky with blood. Damn that hurts!

My eyes scanned around trying to remember what was going on, I felt something clamoring for my urgent attention in counterpoint to the pounding in my head. Something important. I needed to do something about something, right now. But what?

As my sight zoomed in on my own bloody palm, my hearing and sense of smell went into overdrive. Somehow I was able to filter out the myriad background sounds and odors and begin to wrap around individual ones.

Hearing a load crack of rock against rock I spun around, focusing on a solid slab of granite that had fallen across one whole side of the room…no… cave. Yeah, cave. My sense of hearing zoomed unbidden in on the source. More rocks moving shifting, and a voice cursing in French. As my mind supplied an image to match up with the sounds I visualized a gigantic figure shoving rocks and debris from a fracture in the wall.

Abel. The memory came back, along with the scent that drove me to distraction and speared a sharp pain through my skull. But I immediately set any thought of the other Sentinel aside as a soul freezing panic seized me. BLAIR! Reversing direction all my senses soared to their upper reaches of sensitivity and focused on the slab on the opposite side of the cave.

No sound of movement issued from beyond that granite wall. But before I could deep end my hearing latched on to a soft thub dub, calming me better than a lullaby. Alive. Thank GOD! But then my nose managed to sort through the odors around me and gathered in a scent I knew only to well. Blood…Blair's blood. What easing worry my partner's heartbeat had provided was swept away by that odor. Damn I hated that scent and what it meant.

I sucked in a deeper breath and felt some relief when the smell became no stronger. At least he wasn't bleeding profusely; chances were that I smelled minor cuts or scrapes. Now the memories of the landslide came back clearly. I felt a shiver as I realized that a few dozen tons of granite had scraped Blair off my shoulder with the delicacy of surgeon, when it could just have easily slammed him, and me, into the ground and crushed us to paste. The luck involved was damn uncanny, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

But couldn't that same luck have held a little longer and left Blair and I together? I looked over every inch of the slab before me and couldn't find a trace of a Blair sized breach. It looked like the granite had been welded to the sides of the cavern. There didn't seem to be room for a damn cockroach to get from where I was to where my Guide was!

Just as my frustration and concern was about to bubble over into some mature behavior like punching the rock wall, my hyper-focused hearing caught a shift in Blair's breathing and heart rate. Soon after a soft moan signaled his return to consciousness.

I listened as more moans mixed with snorts and grumbles joined the sounds of movement and clothe rustling. I could almost see him and know what he was doing from the sounds. He shifted several times before the sounds stilled again and I heard a slightly slurred but recognizable murmur. “Jim?”

“Right here Blair.” I yelled through the rocky barrier, and then asked quickly, “How bad are you hurt?”

Even though the wall was thick my call must have carried to his non-enhanced hearing, because after a few seconds his subdued voice answered. “I I'm alright. Just scraped up some.”

“I smell blood.” I yelled with some trace of anxiety escaping.

“I have a gash on my hand.” He called back reassuringly. “You know how those things bleed like a stuck pig. I'm okay…really.”

I head the sound of him shifting around some more, then his voice issued from higher along the rock face as he stood up.

“Umm Jim?”

“Yeah Chief.”

“Did the roof fall in?”

“Yeah. 'fraid so.”

“Shit! What is it lately? One thing after another. I must have really pissed someone off in a previous life to earn this kinda sucky Karma man.”

Against my will a smile carved across my face. Trust Sandburg to compress all they had been through in the last few days as 'sucky Karma.'

“Jim?”

“Chief?”

“You okay?” His voice was tinged with concern.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” I pushed absolute assurance into the response.

“I remember that hunka wall coming right across you Jim. Are. You. Okay?” Blair's voice was edged with the steel of a Guide about to get pissed off.

“I. Am. Fine. Blair.” No need to mention having the back of my skull peeled like an orange, the burning pain and monster headache.

“1. 2. 3. 4.”

“Uh Chief, why are you counting?” I could hear impatient frustration climbing as each number was said. Not good.

“Because I can't get through this damn wall.” He snapped. “I told you Jim…I SAW that slab hit you. There is no way you didn't get hit in the head, AGAIN. Now I am your Guide, and when it comes to obfuscation, I am king. So give it up. Did you get knocked out?”

“A little…”

“How long?”

“About five minutes less than you, and I wasn't looking at my watch when the sky fell down Sandburg.” The snide remark popped out before I even gave it thought. Old habits and all… I wanted to pull the words back even as I said them, but it was way to late.

“F*$%##%$$# &%%$#@#$ #$@@!#@$!!”

Whoa! Sometimes I forget that one of the things that Blair picked up in all his travels was a curse vocabulary that would make a sailor blush, or at least a Ranger. I was amazed the rock slab didn't turn molten from the string of obscenities. Then that quick he fell silent, taking in two deep breaths, and blowing them out in his patented stress venting process.

“Jim.” His voice was to calm now… when we got out of this, his voice promised major payback.

“Yes Blair.” I kept my voice equally mellow.

“It was about eight a.m. when I started meditating… what time is it now?” Such a reasonable tone. He could have been discussing the weather.

Looking at my watch I saw it was not quite 9, so I said so. “About eight fifty.”

“And how long ago did you come to?” His voice stayed monotonously level again.

“Oh, about twenty minutes ago.”

“So you were out cold about half an hour.” Still just a pleasant safe conversation.

“Yeah.”

“You were a Medic in the Rangers Jim. What would you say about someone who has had more than one major blow to the head in a short time and has been unconscious for at least half an hour?”

Uh oh. He had me there.

“Um. Probable concussion.” My voice had taken on a defensive tone, there was a certain amount of guilt that my Guide had learned so much about medical emergencies…he'd had way to much experience thanks to me.

“Duh. Gee, got it in one.”
“This isn't really the priority right now Chief.” When you haven't got a good answer, try diversion.

“Don't have a good answer, change the subject huh Jim?”

Like I said…he is good.

“We need to focus on getting you out here Sandburg.”

“Okay, detour time. No offense Jim, but unless you have a couple of sticks of dynamite I think that comes under the category of 'fat chance' here guy.” I could hear the edge of concern that he was trying so hard to cover.

“We'll find a way Chief.” I said the words with every ounce of conviction I could manage. Knowing how well he could read me I had to believe it to make him believe it.

And I did believe it. Somehow I knew that with all the trials thrown at us, whatever our destiny was, it was a package deal. Neither of us would consider leaving the other behind.

“I think the best idea is you going on down the mountain and getting help.” Blair's voice stated matter-of-factly. Well so much for never considering leaving the other?

“You do?” I definitely was curious of why.

“Yeah Jim…It makes sense. Alone you can easily avoid Kincaid's goons and make it off this rock. You bring back the good guys, maybe a few jackhammers or nitro…umm and someone who knows how to use it. I wait here. I can't get out, but neither can Kincaid get in…so I'm cool.” He was pretty convincing. Only the fact was Sentinel hearing picked up not only track his elevated pulse but the very subtle tremor under the speech. Despite his words, he was worried.

“I don't like it Sandburg.” I didn't have another idea, but I didn't like his.

“Jim! Think, will you. I have our whole larder in here man. Food and water for days. Most of the blankets and clothes, even the wood. All here. I've got it easy, I just sit around resting while you hump it for help.” He paused, then finished with a hard voice. “There are no other options. You can't move tons of granite, period.”

“I don't like it.” I knew my voice sounded almost petulant, but even thinking about it felt wrong.

I heard a frustrated sigh. “Than come up with something better. But until you do…start packing Sentinel, I don't want to be stuck in here one minute more than I have to.” I heard the shuffle of feet and then the slide of clothe against rock as he slithered down to sit on the ground with his back against the wall.

I looked around the perimeter again, digging like a dog at any loose piles of rock, hoping against hope that I'd find I'd missed a gap somewhere.

“Jim?” His voice sounded tired now.

“Yeah Chief.”

“Is Abel dead?” The tone definitely betrayed Blair thought so.

“Nope. The rat managed to abandon ship.” My regret for that fact was pretty obvious.

“What! I thought he got flattened in the collapse.” For a moment his natural respect for life warred with his Guide protectiveness of me. The Guide won. “That moves up the time frame man.” Urgency was back in Blair's tone. “He'll head back to Kincaid and they'll come after you. You have got to go now Jim. They'll know you're headed down the mountain, and they have wheels. You'll have a harder time evading them with Abel helping them. Go. Go.”

“I'm not going down the mountain Chief.” The assurance of what I had to do was suddenly clear.

“WHAT?”

“I have an idea.” I said firmly. “Sit tight, I'll be back by sunset.”

“SIT TIGHT?” His voice definitely hit high 'C' on the end of that. “What the HELL else am I going to do? Get real Jim.” A little temper was creeping in. He was not happy being trapped and was stressed trying not to appear stressed. But I knew what the next words out of his mouth would be. “What's your idea?” I could always trust the Sandburg curiosity.

“I'm going to get you out of there.”

“Jim! There is no time here for me having to drag the details out of you. Will you please just TELL ME!” Yeah he was getting antsy.

“Okay, short and to the point. I get a couple of jacks, some munitions, and blow or crank that wall out of our way.” Yep. Short and to the point.

“How, where…?”Then the coin dropped in that fast, agile mind. “FROM KINCAID! Jim are you INSANE?” There was that high note again. “No way. Ugg ugh Jim. You can not try it man. You've got one piddly little handgun with one f#&$%#$ bullet! This is Kincaid we are talking about. Hell he's probably got some more of those damn Stinger Missiles! You CAN NOT try this…Please Jim. NO. Get down the mountain. You don't need to take the risk man. I'm safe here until you come back. Listen. LISTEN. YOU. WILL. NOT. DO. THIS!

I found myself swaying slightly, frozen in place, ready to agree with him. But then something inside of me roared, and I momentarily saw my spirit Panther blink into my view and then out again. I shook off the compulsion, realizing that somehow, someway, in his fear for me, Blair had been able to take the Guide tone up a notch, to actually impose his will, even if just for a moment, over mine. Though trying to usurp my self-control should normally have made me furious, I knew that Blair had only reacted instinctively to his perception of a danger to me. I could tell by his heartbeat and huffing breath he didn't even know what he had done, another unexpected side to his awakening Shamanistic side that I wasn't about to tell him about. He was enough of a handful without letting him know that he had something even more effective than puppy dog eyes for manipulating me.

Coaching my own voice to an even, unworried tone I worked to ease his concerns. “Easy Chief. It's going to be fine. This will work. Kincaid's gang wasn't prepared for that blizzard we just went through, they didn't have a warm cave, and no camping gear made would have protected them from that. They'd already lost men and equipment. Then that storm. They are probably half frozen and my guess is their vehicles are useless with dead batteries from the cold. The last thing they'll be expecting is me to hit them.”

“Jim…there has got to be another way. Why take the chance? You have a clear trail down the mountain and instead you want to charge right into the lion's jaws. Tell me. Why?” There was confusion mixed in with the concern and a good portion of frustration.

I paused, considering. He really didn't realize why it had to be this way. I would have liked to spare adding to his worries; I had hoped to be back before he started putting two and two together.

“This is the only way Chief.”

“Why? Why not downhill?”

“There's not enough time to hike down, find help and come back.”

He didn't answer for a second, then he took a deep breath and I knew he knew.

“This slab, it's not just tight…it's airtight?” Though no panic inched into his voice, his pulse had picked up.

“Pretty close.” I answered honestly. “There's some air moving in and out, but not enough. Start a fire in there and you'd be dead from carbon monoxide in ten minutes. And without a fire you'll be dead from hypothermia in a couple of days.”

“Fast or slow. Not real appealing. But are you sure Jim?” He was still reaching for a solution that didn't have me headed uphill instead of down. “It's pretty toasty in here, and I have plenty of blankets for warmth and food for calories, couldn't I be okay without a fire if I conserve heat and bundle up?”

I hated to dash his hopes but this was another of those times I needed to stick to the truth. He deserved it.

“The fire we had in the cave warmed the rock surface Chief…but only a few inches. Without a fire the cold will push through in a couple of hours, and blankets won't be enough when night comes and the temperature drops double digits below zero.” I had run these very thoughts myself and always come up with the same conclusion. If I didn't get Blair out within twenty-four hours, thirty-six on the outside, he'd be dead.

“Oh.” He sighed again. “Ya know Jim, there are times I really wish you didn't know quite as much about survival stuff. But you do, so I accept you're right on this, but I still don't like your idea.”

“Yeah, I got that hint Buddy. But it will work.” I paused and then used the two words that were fast becoming a magic mantra for us. “Trust me.”

“I trust you Jim, you know that. I'd bet on you against anyone…but they have all the advantages man. I,… Just promise you won't take any, and I mean ANY unnecessary risks Jim.” Just that quickly his resistance became support and I felt a weight lift.

“I'll be back as quick as I can. Like you said, bundle up and keep snacking. Also keep drinking, don't let yourself get dehydrated, your lungs still aren't recovered.”

Blair chuckled shakily. “Sure mom.” Then he took a deep, steadying breath. “Be careful Jim.”

“You got it.” I kept my voice steady with some effort. “See you soon.”

“See ya.”

As the words carried through to me I felt a zing of surprise. I had thought for sure he would continue to argue for me to take the safer route, even knowing it would cost him his life. Before this week that would have been his response. But now…and suddenly I knew, and felt a weird joy, he understood! Oh, he still didn't have a normal survival instinct or anything; I knew that he wasn't really willing to let me take on Kincaid just to save him. But thanks to Incacha's little Shaman-to-Shaman talk earlier…Blair understood. To protect me, he had to protect himself! Somewhere in my mind the Sentinel pumped his arm and hooted “Yes!” in gleeful satisfaction. The Guide would be less likely to throw his life away knowing to do so would hazard the Sentinel, they were inexorably linked. But I'd savor the moment later, first thing was to SAVE BLAIR!

I moved quickly to where the fractured roof was lowest. It took a couple of jumps before my hands caught the lip overhang and I could haul myself up and out of the cave. As I came to my feet my hearing caught Blair's voice come up through the stone to me.

“Jim, just to be on the safe side, dial down your senses just a bit. You are stressed and without me backing you up you're at higher risk of a zone out if you have them at their highest. And keep rotating them around in pairs, you know…piggyback one to the other.”

I shook my head. I wondered if Blair was going to talk the entire time I was gone. But I knew he was doing it more to focus himself than me. He had no way to vent his own frustration; I at least had the prospect of some action and was able to do something to help the situation. I knew he would soon start meditating. He was trapped, alone, in the dark, in the gathering cold…yet I knew his main worry was for me. Damn what a pair we are!

Looking down I was a bit shocked by the chaos. The landslide had obliterated the ledge and the small open area in front of the cliff that had been below us was now a sloping field of shale, rocks and snow that extended clear to the tree line. Only right below the cave was a small open space where the debris had been shunted to either side by the slight protrusion of the cave roof, which had then collapsed on us soon after.

Shaking my head at the luck of it, I eased down the mounds of rubble and back onto the clear track uphill. Immediately my eyes found recent sloppy tracks through the snow leading up the direction I was moving. Abel. My anger started to simmer just thinking of him. I wanted to speed up, track him down, and smash him into paste…

No. I'd promised no extra risks. I reviewed several things that Kincaid's camp might have that would work to clear the slab that trapped Sandburg. If I could avoid Kincaid and his men, and just steal what I needed, I would. If I could avoid Abel and get back to the cave without pursuit, I would. If anyone got in my way and I had to kill them, I would. All that mattered was getting Blair out. Quick.

Well this wasn't working. Jim had left about twenty minutes ago and all my efforts to settle into meditation had been a complete flop. I felt like a pressure was building in me, or around me. The darkness pressed in, the silence sucked even the noise of my breathing out of the air seeming to muffle and dim the slight sound. Giving up I rose and began to pace. Even though I couldn't see a dang thing I moved back and forth in my small prison. I held my hands slightly out from me to warn of the walls, but found that I sensed them a moment before hitting them. “Hey Jim, Bat echo trick.” I murmured to the air around me, remembering my discussion with him when he'd been blinded, temporarily thank God.

I felt the urge to scream in frustration. Even now Jim was moving closer and closer to Abel, Kincaid, his maniac brigade. And I was stuck here… stuck in this damn, stupid, claustrophobic, cold, stupid, dark, stupid, stupid CAVE!

Owww. Owww. Owww…. Shit, damn. Way to go Sandburg. Note to self. Punching walls hurts! Really, really hurts. I shook the hand I'd just tried to put through granite. Sensation was returning and most of it was pain. I blew on burning knuckles.

What could I do? I squeezed closed eyes to full of darkness, as if by keeping them closed I could pretend there was light just on the other side of my eyelids. I needed to get out of here both to be with Jim and to prevent him having to go against Kincaid to get me out of here. What a mess.

It took me a moment to notice an image gathering in front of me… even though my eyes were closed. It was faint, silvery, like the after image when you've looked into a bright light. But when I opened my eyes it vanished?

Quickly I scrunched my eyes closed again. Sure enough I saw a silvery outline form and thicken. It became recognizable within a moment, a Wolf! Glowing eyes turned to me and now a whispery whine came through the silence. Entranced I followed the creature as it moved away from me toward the far, deepest tip of the cave.

My spirit guide, because I knew this could only be him, stopped when he was practically in the wall. Close behind I bumped my head as I came to a stop beside him, and my eyes instinctively snapped open, and the wolf instantly disappeared. I snapped shut my eyes to recapture the image, only to shake in frustration as the animal failed to reappear.

I moved my hands along the rock face in front of me. The Wolf had led me to this point for a reason. But what? Everywhere within reach was hard unyielding rock. No crevice, fissure, weakness or ….. I felt a quiver beneath my feet, almost like when the slide earlier had…………

Yoooowwwww. Owww. Shoot, not again. The floor of the cave vanished from under me. The area had extended over the ledge out into the space furthest from the cliff face. Unsupported and obviously severely weakened, it had only taken the weight of one slightly chilled Guide to shatter the crust.

Feet first I plunged from my dark stone cocoon to drill like a nail into a deep pile of snow. What would have been a ten-foot drop, thanks to the blizzard was only about four, into a soft cushiony drift. Shaking my head and squinting against the sudden intense glare of bright light I looked around. Over my head was the cave, to each side of me long mounds of shale and debris and snow. I was out!

My eyes teared, and I blinked to see more clearly. I was disconcerted for a moment by the alien nature of my immediate surroundings. The landslide had changed everything that I had seen just a short time earlier. But by following the tree line I was able to find the track uphill that Jim would have taken.

Squirming and flopping around I managed to extricate myself from the snowdrift. For a minute the temptation was to head right off after Jim. It had only been a little more than half an hour since he'd left. But I paused, getting my head together. Scrambling up the snow to squeeze back through the hole I'd fallen through, I quickly felt around in the dim light coming through from the small opening, gathering everything I could and mashing it into a pack. Whatever happened, we might need these supplies.

Within five minutes the pack was dropped through the hole and I followed right behind. I was already on the move as I slid the straps over my shoulders. The going was rough for a bit climbing over the shifting mass of crap from the landslide. But then I hopped off into ankle deep snow, stiffened over deeper powder by the cold wind blowing down the mountainside.

Finding the trough that had been cut through the white blanket by not one, but two heavier men pushing through the snow up the path, took no skill at all. They had sunk deeper and had slower going as a result.

I kept pushing up, up, even as I felt a steady increase in the weight lying on my chest. I didn't have time right now, but my lungs were definitely reminding me that only a short time ago they had been pretty sick.

Despite the continuing severe cold, the sky was completely clear. The sun beating down on my dark clothing and my exertion, was keeping me toasty. But I made a point to not push myself to hard, remembering Jim's training.

I also sought the path of least resistance. The blizzard had dumped immense amounts of snow. Huge drifts pillowed up against the cliff side and along the start of the tree line, extending up well over my own height. But though the drifts extending out from the cliff in deep mounds, the same wind that had deposited the great hills of white, had scoured away or frozen solid the snow from a strip of path between the cliff and trees. Since that way was right out in the open I instead wove my way through tree's but within sight of the track. . Being lighter was a definite advantage right now as I jogged unhampered over the fast frozen crust that had been unable to support the heavier Sentinel's that had preceded me. Since I could move faster then they had, it was possibly I could catch up with Jim.

A while later I eased down to a walk, moving steadily in the warming sun in a ground-eating stride. I was wheezing like a steam engine, but I was maintaining a rapid pace. Still later I moved further into the tree line and eased my speed a little more. I would need to take a break soon and I wanted to cool down easy.

When I'd been moving for over four hours I looked around for some cover to take a rest. I noticed that I'd covered a lot of ground and was coming up on the area by the lake where Jim had fallen from the cliff. From what Jim had said, Kincaid's camp couldn't be very far away I realized. As if to prove the point my eyes caught a distant dark plume of smoke snake up. Just guessing I would estimate over a mile away, around the curve in the cliff and beyond where Jim had fallen. Up toward the mouth of the frozen lake.

Comforted by the implied distance yet between Kincaid's camp and me, I risked moving toward the track, deciding to cross over to the cliff side to the tumble of boulders where Jim's tracks had vanished. If my Sentinel wasn't to far ahead, I hoped once I was out of the worst of the wind he'd smell or hear me and turn back.

I needed to rest and recoup as much as I could but decided to do that when safely ensconced on the other side of the snowy plain. Once I linked back up with Jim we'd need to hustle down this rock fast. With me free there was no need to confront any of these militaristic morons. So avoidance would be the new plan. And Jim didn't need to have to carry me.

As the sound of my own labored breathing quieted, I began to inch across the open expanse of crusted snow toward the cliff face, my eyes fixed uphill. The cliff curved back away from my view just a few hundred yards above and I thought that anyone coming around that point wouldn't immediately spot me. I figured if I saw any movement from up there I'd have to assume it was a bad guy and immediately drop into the deep snow. If it was Jim he'd find me, if it were Kincaid or his men, I might not be noticed. If it was Abel…well I wasn't sure if his senses were reliable enough to find me, but I had to run the risk.

Moving with as much stealth as an Anthropologist trained by a covert Ops guy could, I slogged through the snow that now came to my waist as I approached the riot of large and small boulders that had been blown clean of snow on their far sides. Once there I could shelter in the lee side of one of the large monoliths. Just maybe fifty more feet and I could rest. My eyes continued glued up trail the closer I got to my destination.

I was concentrating so damn hard uphill that it took the noise from behind me a moment to penetrate my intense focus. For future reference spinning around is impossible in waist deep snow, but as my mind registered the sound of an engine, I sure tried. Of course I floundered and flopped onto my back in the snow just as I caught a glimpse of a large Humvee plowing up the trail.

Even as I started to burrow into the deep snow hoping they might not have seen me, a bullet slicing through the snow not five feet from my head deflated that hope. SHIT!

“Well looky, looky Jake. The Jew boy… and he's still alive?” That voice. Was it just over a week ago that two drawling southern idiots had pushed me out of an airplane? My how time flies when someone, or several someone's, is trying to kill you. Rolling over I saw Billie standing on the step of the all terrain vehicle, behind the open passenger door. A rifle was aimed casually right at my head. The smile on his face was that of a jackal, cruel and predatory.

Billie shifted the gun to wave me toward them, and with no other choice, I complied. The driver's door also swung open and Jake stood on his sidestep to glare first at me, then at the area around me.

“Careful Billy. He could be bait for a trap by Ellison. Remember what Kincaid said about him.” Jake moved his rifle in a nervous arc covering the space behind them, then back and forth on each side. When the wind blew a blob of snow off a tree limb nearby Jake almost shot the offending branch he was strung so tight. His hard eyes landed on me with a glare just as cruel as Billy's. “Where's Ellison shorty?” He growled threateningly.

“Yeah. Where's the big, bad cop, fag?” Billy sneered while he kept the rifle aided right at my head. “He realize what a waste you are and dump your ass?” He laughed derisively.

I looked back and forth between these two. Just because my luck seemed to have run out, Jim was still out there, and I needed to give him every advantage if he was going to get us out of this.

“He's dead.” I let my voice catch emotionally.

“Where is he?” Jake challenged again. His voice was full of doubt.

“He's dead I tell you.” I let my eyes fill with tears and put on my biggest puppy dog eyes, full of despair. “There was a landslide, and he… he…” I gulped and let my eyes drop to the ground and my shoulders slump. I was the image of dejected defeat.

Careful not to ruin the image I was real sneaky about squinting sideways to see how they were taking my act.

“You think he's lying Jake?” Billy seemed disappointed to think that a landslide had killed their target instead of a bullet from one of their guns.

“Doesn't matter one way or the other.” Jake growled. “Kincaid's just a little further on. We take long hair here to the camp, Kincaid wants off this rock, and he can decide what to do with him.” He stepped down from the vehicle and motioned me toward the driver door.

“Why bother? Kincaid thinks that Ellison and Curly there are dead, so we could really do whatever we feel like. Well, I figure we found him, he's ours. I say just shot him and leave him here. If Ellison is dead we don't need the Jew boy, if he's alive then shooting his little friend here will show him who's in charge here.” I suddenly found my mouth very dry. Billy's conversation was taking things in a direction I did not want it to go. Not only did I not want to get shot, but if I got myself killed, it would kill Jim. No…this was unacceptable.

Jake was looking at me over his rifle. A mean glint had come into his dark, conscienceless eyes. He liked the idea.

“Hey kid. What say we give you a count of ten head start? You think you can outrun a bullet?” Jake smiled at his idea, warming to it.

“Yeah. Run Jew boy. Let's see you run.” Billy's gun was still aimed right at my head.

“One.” Jake intoned gravely.

“Two.” Billy barked out almost immediately. I turned and started to run.

“Three.” Jake called out laughing evilly.

“Stob.” A heavy French accented voice boomed out just as a huge arm reached out and snagged me when I'd barely gotten turned around and made one stride. Broken handcuffs dangled from the wrist of my newest captor.

Abel! Could my luck get any worse?

“Hey, Frenchie, where you been?” Billy's voice was curious but not really friendly. I got the impression there was no love lost between these men. “When Kincaid radioed us he said that he'd sent you down the mountain to bring back more snow jets and you vanished. He had to call us in when the blizzard left him stranded.”

“Duh Jeeb blow duh tire en flib me. Ellizon and dis one, dey fine me an holl me priznor. Bud now ah ged way.” Abel hadn't taken his eyes off me the whole time he'd been talking. His grip on my upper arm was painful and his possessive glare was discomforting. His nostrils flared as he drew in deep drafts of my scents. Very not good!

“Hah! Hey Frenchie, you mean you were held captive by this runt and a cop half your size?” The sneer in Billy's voice would have peeled paint as he looked meaningfully at the cuffs still braceleting Abel's wrists.

The derision distracted whatever possessive crap had been going on in Abel's head as he swung to face the Humvee.

“Shud ub Bellee, or ah shud you ub.” The ice in Abel's growl was enough to send a shiver down my spine. But it didn't seem to have much impact on Kincaid's flyboys.

“You gonna make me Frenchie? I don't think so, this time I got a gun.” Billy's voice was casually menacing and it didn't take enhanced sight to see that the jerk's gun was now not so subtly aimed right at Abel. Yeah, there was obviously some unpleasant history between these guys.

Jake just now seemed to figure that Abel and Billy were both just looking for an excuse, so he did what seemed like the best idea, get them off each other's throats and onto someone else's.

Mine.

“What the hell does it matter? Ellison's dead, Kincaid's stranded and waiting for us. Kill the kid and lets go get our people and get off this sorry mountain.”

A lot of things happened all at once. Billy, agreeing with Jake, brought his rifle back to aim at me and his finger tightened on the trigger just as Abel bellowed loudly, “MINE!” grabbed the barrel and yanked the rifle out of the surprised redneck's hand. With his other hand the giant shoved me hard to the ground as he pivoted the gun to bring it around to point at it's previous holder. A large, stubby finger was just moving to squeeze the trigger and end Billy's life when a sharp report barely beat him to it.

I watched from below as a small black hole materialized high in Abel's chest and then something red blurred out his back. Spots of red sprinkled across the snow behind him as the giant's knees suddenly buckled and he crashed to kneel in front of the Humvee. His concrete gray eyes found mine with a look of shear disbelief in them. A moment later, just as my eyes broke away to look up to see the still smoking tip of Jake's rifle track each of the giant man's moves, Abel plowed forward to lay motionless, face first in the snow.

“Jackass!” Jake muttered through gritted teeth. “What the hell was that for? I always knew you were weird, but you want this kid? You some kind of fag too?” The loathing in Jake's voice was obvious.

I just lay there staring at the unmoving figure, feeling several emotions at once. I was angry that these men had just thoughtlessly taken a life. And it wasn't only because Abel had been a Sentinel, though the Anthropologist in me was definitely heartsick. All life was too precious and they'd murdered for no other reason then dislike. I was also admittedly frightened; my life expectancy in these guys' hands could be measured in seconds. Then there was disgust, with myself, for walking right back into these two assholes hands. Jim was right; I was a damn trouble magnet!

I didn't even try to escape as Jake grabbed hold of my shoulder with a grip that would leave bruises, and hauled me to my feet. “I ought to just put a bullet in you to and leave you both here to rot.” I could smell Jakes breath, foul with liquor as he hissed in my ear. “But I think after what they've been through, Kincaid will like skinning you himself. Get in there.” My head impacted none to lightly with the frame as I was shoved into the back seat of the Humvee.

They didn't even bother to tie my hands? Yeah Sandburg, like they're afraid of you trying anything. Either one of them could wipe the floor up with you bare handed, and the fact they're armed to the teeth probably gives them a bit of confidence to.

I sank into the seat but my eyes moved back to the large dark form lying stark and unmoving against the white blanket of snow. Suddenly I felt very, very tired. The only positive thing I could focus on right then was Jim, still free, and out there somewhere. As long as he was still okay there was still hope.

Even though I no longer tried to catch up to Abel, my pace increased as I moved away from the cave. Blair's time was limited and thus so was mine. Within an hour of starting I noticed Abel's tracks, which I had been following, veered into the deep trees as he tried to avoid the worst of the snow mounds and drifts. With his weight it was obvious he was crashing through the various frozen layers in the snow pack. The trees would ease his way, but also take longer.

Choosing the shorter more direct path I forced on through the snow in a straight line. Being slightly lighter I only sank to mid calf, where the bigger man had broken through to knee deep with each stride. Now having his tracks in clear sight, I was a bit frustrated by not being able to crank up my hearing and sight all the way. I knew I couldn't to far away from the giant by now, and there was no guarantee that some of Kincaid's men weren't around also. But with the monotony of the landscape and Blair's absence I couldn't risk it. Yet if I couldn't turn the senses all the way up, I could still move them up a little and jockey them around so as not to over focus on any one. But I had to go slower then I liked so I didn't accidentally run right up on one or more of my enemies. If I could move fast enough along the main track I could not only catch up to, but hopefully pass Abel unnoticed and get to Kincaid's camp unannounced.

It was not a plan I would normally have come up with. My first impulse was to set an ambush and take on and take out the larger Sentinel. But if I went down, or was even just hurt or captured, Sandburg wouldn't stand a chance. So I would go with stealth. I had been in Covert Ops before the Sentinel had manifested, this was what I'd been trained for.

Almost as if summoned by my thoughts I caught the slightest hint of movement far in the trees. I froze. One of the many things they teach you in Covert Op is that the normal vision perceives things differently than you'd think. It isn't the stuff ahead of you that you're focused on that you see best. It is peripheral vision that catches images quickest. And all sight catches movement quickest of all.

I stood there unmoving for several seconds, slowly dialing up my vision. I could almost hear Sandburg's voice coaching me through one of the endless exercises he had used to prepare me for just this type of event. “Take it slow Jim.” Blair's guide voice extolled gently in my mind. “Don't crank it up too fast or you'll overload. Don't go too high with just one sense man, pull in another sense partway to anchor you, piggyback them together.”

With the memory came control. I stopped the dials at about halfway up to my current personal best, but it was more than enough to telescope the distant giant into easy view without courting a zone. I used hearing as my secondary anchor, piggybacking it on just in time to hear the muted clank of stone against metal.

Abel's back was to me, and the trees partially obstructed my view even with enhanced vision. But I could make out one of his hands raising a few inches with a large rock and then pounding down. I felt a moment of satisfaction as I realized that the behemoth was trying to get the handcuffs off. With his wrists chained together he couldn't lift the rock high enough to get any force into the blow. He'd be at it for a while. Perfect!

Keeping my eyes and ears on him to make sure he didn't turn around, I resumed my slogging through the snow. At one point I saw his head cock slightly in the familiar Sentinel listening pose, but even as I froze in place a flight of pheasant rose squawking up from the snow and Abel's hands flew up to cover his ears as he howled in pain. A sensory spike! Couldn't happen to a more deserving guy. Hustling along even faster I quickly rounded the curve of the cliff so that it hide me from Abel's view even if he turned and managed to force his senses into some degree of control.

I dialed back my senses to just slightly above normal and slowed my pace as I skirted the deeper drifts while still trying to hug the cliff face. If any of Kincaid's men where around they'd most likely be in the clear, unobstructed areas furthest from the rocky face.

Within another few minutes my sense of smell, even with it being dialed most of the way down, picked up the scent of smoke. It lead me like a map and before an hour went by I spotted the Sunshine Patriots encampment, or what was left of it. Dropping down I inched forward to lie belly down in the snow just a dozen yards from the group.

The blizzard had taken a lot of expensive camping gear and proven how totally unsuitable it was. Colorful expanses of waterproof fabric flapped like flags from half buried twisted metal skeletons that had once been high tech tents. Two burned out generators abandoned in the camp center testified to the fact that it had been too cold for the occupants to leave their tents to refill the oil mixture during the worst of the cold.

Nearest me nine men huddled around a wood fire and exhibiting various degrees of exposure. Some faces and ears were splotched with large black patches of frostbit skin. A couple hobbled on feet too frozen to hold them up. The whole bunch looked disheartened and generally whipped. Better and better.

Everywhere equipment was strewn. I saw guns stacked willy-nilly and crates of supplies half buried. All the vehicles had their windows busted in, probably from hail. On the far side of the camp two of the four trucks they'd come up the mountain in had been parked near the cliff face during the storm and of course been buried by snow. There had been an obvious effort to dig them out that had exposed the roofs and blasted windows, but the hood and bodies of both were still invisible below the white frozen blanket.

The semi-obscured trucks by the cliff face would be my first targets. Though it meant back tracking a bit and circling all the way around, if I could get behind the trucks I would be invisible while I pillaged them for whatever I could use to get Sandburg free. I would have liked to wait until dark, then I would have also tried for some of the arms and other supplies scattered about. But I wasn't willing to lose the time buffer I had. If I got back to Blair tonight I'd have several hours to work on freeing him.

About half way between the men and the cliff two more trucks were lined up and a pair of the tents were set up in their lee. Protected to some degree from the worst of the wind and hail by the vehicles one tent had survived relatively intact.

Just then I observed Kincaid come out of the shelter with a Handi-Talkie radio in his hand. Even without Sentinel hearing I was close enough to hear his enraged screaming.

“I don't care how rough the terrain is. You get up here. I have three men dead and almost everyone else half frozen. The trucks won't start and most of our gear was destroyed by a damn freak blizzard.” He was pacing back and forth, stomping his feet every few steps. It was obvious he was also pretty cold. “Don't tell me your problems. If you'd left when I first called you, you'd already be here and the police wouldn't have even found you at the hanger to hassle you.” He paused for a moment listening to the response. Unbidden my hearing geared up and even though scratchy and full of static I recognized the voice of Billie, one of the two who had flown and dumped us up here.

“We're almost there Sir. But we had to take precautions. The cops had tracked every plane that left Cascade when the cop and kid disappeared. Just our bad luck they got to the hanger as we were getting ready to leave.”

If possible Kincaid shouted even louder. “F#$@ Ellison! He and Mr. Natural couldn't have survived that storm with no supplies or shelter. We barely did and we had a damn camping gear store out here. They are dead and this exercise is over. Now get your ass's up here and get me and my men off this damn iceberg!”

Listening in I felt some satisfaction at Kincaid's misery. Couldn't happen to a more deserving bastard. But this conversation definitely changed things. It seemed Kincaid was abandoning his hunt. If I just waited a little while longer they would abandon camp. Since their vehicles were history they'd have to leave most everything behind. I could walk in and helped myself to anything.

Then I remembered Abel. Even without control of his senses he couldn't be more than an hour behind me. When he showed up and Kincaid found out that Sandburg and I weren't dead… what then?

Even if Abel took them straight to our cave they couldn't get to Blair any more than I could. And considering the condition of the group, would Kincaid even care? His little private army was a shambles and the authorities were sniffing around their airplane. I knew Simon wouldn't have been sitting on his hands after we had disappeared, but there had been very few clues left. I was also pretty sure we were in Canada so he must have really been applying a hell of a lot of heat to have gotten a search of the airfields in another country.

With pursuit closing in I fe lt sure that Kincaid would cut his loses rather than risk being recaptured. That decided, I began rapidly retracing my approach. As soon as I was a safe distance from the camp I took to my feet and began scrambling toward the woods. All I needed do was avoid Abel and let them all get together and get out of here.

I had been jogging for about twenty minutes, my eyes sweeping back and forth between the tree line and the snow, looking for tracks or other evidence that Abel had already passed this way. So far nothing. Abel must have gotten lost or sidetracked by something. Though what would distract him……….

CRACK!

The shot sounded from just ahead and my vision zoomed into the source instinctively. I watched the giant form of Abel crash to his knees just as my over focusing pulled me helplessly toward a zone. Even as I realized I was to late to pull back on my own, I was saved from the vortex of gray as my sense of smell latched onto the unmistakable scent of my Guide. I snapped back to full alert.

Blair!

Long hours of training piggybacked my sight without thought and I spotted Jake haul a familiar shape out of the snow. Abel remained face down as Sandburg was pushed roughly into the Humvee.

How had Sandburg gotten out of the cave? How had he gotten this far back up the mountain? What the hell was he doing with Abel? Unconcerned, Billie and Jake climbed back in and cranked the engine. Squashing the momentary urge of the primal Sentinel that almost had him swagger out and haul the Guide away from the enemy Sentinel, I let my Covert Ops training and savvy kicked in. In my mind hundreds of calculations and scenario's were considered, discarded, rearranged and a final plan made, all in a single moment.

That gun blast would have been heard at Kincaid's camp. And though they were expecting Billie and Jake they would know a shot meant trouble and be on the alert. Those that could still move might already be headed down here. On foot they could be here in twenty to thirty minutes. Somehow I had to stop the Humvee and deal with Billie and Jake. Now. One against two was no sweat; I was confidant that I could easily take out the hillbilly duo that had my partner. But one against twelve, even I wasn't that good.

Every sense geared up to full in a moment. I moved out of the trees and dashed through the snow towards several large boulders halfway between the rapidly approaching vehicle and me. They were moving through snow and rocky terrain so they couldn't really get up much speed. That would work well for me.

Getting to the large rocks I positioned myself in a low crouch and waited. It was only a couple of minutes before the Humvee driver side eased by me as it was negotiated over a pile of snow-hidden rocks. I could have reached out and touched the driver's window.

As the door to the back seat pulled even with me I glided carefully onto the running board and latched on to the drivers door handle with my left hand. My eyes were now just level with the bottom of the window frame. Through the dark tinted glass I could see Blair sitting on the bench seat just inches from me. I was tempted to yank open the back door first and just grab him. But Jake and Billie had rifles…they had to be neutralized first.

I held on tight, balancing carefully as the vehicle bounced over some more rough ground. I shifted until I was sure I was steady on the running board. This had to go without a hitch.

Smoothly, in one movement I rose up, my right hand grabbing the luggage rack on the roof as my left hand yanked open the driver door and released it to swing wide. Before Billie even realized the door was open I had reached in across him and grabbed his far shoulder and pulled.

Billie twisted and fell out under my arm to hit the snow and rock covered ground with the back tire barely missing running right over him. But I never even looked to see. As soon as he was out of the seat I had stooped forward, left hand grabbing the wheel to pull myself into the still warm place.

My right hand came off the roof rack and moved to my waist to pull my gun with my single bullet. Jake had barely registered the fact that Billie had vanished like magic, much less that I was halfway into the vehicle. But now his eyes where going wide. Out of the edge of my eye I saw Sandburg also coming forward.

CRACK.

I couldn't believe it, even as fire scorched through my left thigh I was thinking, “What kind of an idiot holds a loaded rifle across his lap with the safety off?” Jake's shock at my attack had caused his hand, resting on the gun across his lap, to spasm and jerk off a shot without thought or aim.

The momentary agony of the slug hitting had caused me to lose my grip and fall backward out of the doorway. I hit the snow and rolled. It was lucky the irregular terrain had kept them going barely ten miles an hour or when I was slammed out a cracked skull would have finished what the bullet began.

Somehow I managed to miss smashing into anything big enough to do serious harm and rolled to a stop half buried in the snow.

The Humvee, now driverless, plowed on slowly through the snow as I struggled to regain my feet and follow. But as soon as I tried to move my left leg a searing pain almost pushed me into a zone and left me doubled over fighting to hold back the darkness.

JIM! Impossibly I was sure I had caught a glimpse of Jim's face for just a second outside the darkened window of the HumVee. Fixing my eyes there I was just in time to see him rear up right by the door beside me.

Before I could even speak his hand had flashed out to rip open the driver door, grab Billie and sling him out. I finally shook off the surprise that had frozen me as I saw him reach in and grab the steering wheel and start to pull himself in. I pushed off the seat reaching out to grab Jake from behind.

Even as my arms came around Jake's neck I felt his body jump.

CRACK.

With my head now up right beside his I clearly saw the rifle that he'd shot Abel with mere minutes before had been lying across Jake's lap. The safety must have been off! Hell, a simple bump and he would have blown Billie's guts out. But instead he'd shot Jim.

He shot Jim!

Jake had frozen in surprise as his gun had blasted under his lightest touch, and Jim tumbled out the door. It was a second before he really noticed my arms coming from behind him to cross his neck. He immediately brought his hands up to claw at my forearms as my hold tightened. But I had the advantage of a few seconds head start. And I had been trained in sleeper holds by not only a Ranger from Covert Ops, but a Sentinel who was desperate for his Guide to learn self-defense, and a friend who wanted me to carry a gun but had compromised on quite a few semi-successful martial arts sessions.

With the image of Jim falling away with a look of surprise and pain on his face, I found the strength I needed to not only keep Jake from prying my arms away from his throat, but to crank the headlock even tighter. Jake's panicked hands stopped trying to loosen my hold and reached shakily to grab the rifle and twist it around to either shot me or poke me in the head. But lack of oxygen and blood supply to the brain robbed him first of any strength and finally consciousness.

As he went limp in my grasp I held on for another few seconds to be sure he wasn't faking. I quickly checked for a pulse and was relieved to find one, slow but steady. Though I now knew I would kill to protect Jim, somehow the thought that I might have killed someone with my bare hands made me nauseous.

I started to climb over into the front seat, but just that moment the HumVee struck one of the protruding boulders that scattered across this stretch. Without a foot on the gas the vehicle had been slowing steadily since Billie was ejected, so the collision was barely more than a hard bump. But with me leaning three quarters over the seatback the sudden stop tumbled me right over to crumple into the floorboards.

I scrambled up and out the still swinging open drivers door, then reached in to shift into park and turn off the ignition. As I looked up through the front windscreen I noticed several dark blotches coming toward me from uphill. Straining to focus tired eyes I realized I was seeing men, several of them, on foot running this way. SHIT! Kincaid.

I was off and running back the way I'd come, to get to Jim.

Though my fight with Jake had only been a couple of minutes the HumVee had carried me a good distance further from Jim had been shot then I had realized. I saw Jim struggling to his feet in the snow with his back to me, as an enraged Billy was plowing through the snow like a bull toward a lopsided toreador. A knot formed in my stomach as I saw the pilot tugged furiously at a pocket, struggling to free a gun from the folds of his jacket even as he charged.

I raged at myself, damn why hadn't I taken Jake's rifle? I could have fired off a couple of shots at the jerk. Even if I were a lousy shot, the gun would have made Billie rethink attacking. But there was no time. Billy's hand came free, holding a large revolver. He began to bring it up in front of him as he closed the distance between him and Jim, who had gained his feet and now just stood, waiting.

Oh god. No.

I wanted to close my eyes, wanted to scream, wanted to somehow stop time. But all I could do was keep running toward the eminent duel.

BANG CHOOM

As my eyes were drawn to the smoke haze up from the barrel of Billy's gun, my ears registered the double report. Not an echo, but two shots!

With hope returned I nearly panicked as I saw Jim fall forward, his right leg and arm holding him semi-upright. Then I noticed Billy, in slow motion seem to collapse in on himself, wilting to the ground.

I skidded across the packed snow up beside Jim who was struggling to push off his right arm up to his right knee. He was pale and shaking and red stained his whole left pants leg and some of the snow beneath him. Without a pause I pulled off my belt and ripped my inner tee shirt. Folding the section of cloth into a small pad I placed it over the bullet wound. It was bleeding enthusiastically, but the flow was steady and dark, not the bright spurting of a nicked artery. I used my belt to crank down on the pad enough to apply pressure without tourniqueting off all blood supply.

Satisfied the immediate threat was dealt with I stooped and grabbed Jim's left arm, pulling it over my shoulder and help him stagger to his feet. Or I should say foot. As soon as he tried to put weight on the left leg he grimaced in agony and the leg collapse. It took all my strength to keep him upright as he listed hard over when the leg gave out.

He was too big for me to drag; he had to at least hobble. But the pain was bad and each time he tried to move or use the left leg he stifled a groan and the leg would fall away.

“Come on Jim.” I encouraged him with no little urgency. “Kincaid's nut posse is just a bit uphill and coming this way fast. This is not a healthy neighborhood, we need to get out of here, NOW.”

As if he needed more motivation, the threat of more gun carrying scumbags headed towards us had Jim desperately launching himself forward, only to have the injured limb fold like limp spaghetti. He fell like a tree and all I could do was go with him. Immediately he struggled into a sitting position and looked at me with urgent need.

An expression passed over his face, one familiar and unacceptable. I knew what he was about to say, and without noticing the look change to something entirely new, I blurted out an angry pre-emptive threat. “Don't Jim! Don't you dare! I swear I hear one word sounding like 'leave me' and so help me I'll get a club and beat the idea right out of your head!”

I was snarling by the end of my tirade. But now I also saw Jim's expression. It was not what I expected.

“Great visual for a pacifist Chief.” He snorted out between gritted teeth. “But I was thinking maybe you had an idea to help me get a handle on the damn dials. I can't get the pain under control so I can walk.”

The look he was giving me? Yes, the Blessed Protector was there, worried, aggressive, wanting to get me to safety even at cost of his life. But that was held in check and channeled with a firm faith that I could and would somehow help him and together we'd get out of this. And he wasn't even trying to mask the feelings as he usually did. My partner trusted me, my friend looked to me for help, and my Sentinel was letting me be his Guide.

At last.

It took a second to get words around the lump in my throat. But I had a job to do and the clock was ticking here.

“Oo kay. All right Jim, close your eyes, I want you to focus on the dials now. Find the one for pain. Now I need you to try something a little different. I want you to filter through the pain first, find the pain from the bullet. It's the hot red pain, pressing against the nerves.” Jim groaned. “Sorry, sorry big guy. Okay now crank down the dial just on that pain, slowly, 9, 8, 7, and you can feel it, the pain getting less, but you can still feel the leg. Now 6, 5, 4, 3, just the wound pain Jim, 2, 1. Now there is a numbness just of that area, no where else.”

I had been watching Jim's face the whole time I was talking. The grimace becoming a scowl, then fading to a frown and finally relaxing into a relieved smile. His eyes popped open with that undisguised wonder it always got when the dials worked, then he turned to smile at me and reach out his hand, motioning me to help him up.

I hauled on his arm and he came to his feet a little unsteadily. He kept hold of my arm for balance as he tentatively put full weight on the injured leg. When it held he removed his hand and smiled at me. “That's great. Why the filtering bit? Why not just dial down the pain like I usually do?” He was hobbling forward with only a light hold on my shoulder, but I wasn't 100% sure of my fix it, so I pulled his arm around my neck again and grabbed him around the waist.

“If you'd just turned down the pain dial the whole leg would have gone numb, you wouldn't have been able to move the leg or walk.” I panted as he picked up speed.

He was watching my face with that same trusting gaze that kind of made me warm inside and slightly self-conscious. “Good thinking Professor.” His smile grew big as he saw me blush. Then he stiffened, his eyes swinging uphill, an undisguised growl erupting from him.

We were within a dozen feet of the HumVee. Two more minutes and we would have been out of there. But we both stood frozen.

Abel stood by the open driver's door, a cold hard expression on his face. But my eyes were drawn away from him to Jake. All I could see was his head, drooping out the door off the drivers seat. By the severity of the angle that it joined his shoulder's, there was no doubt that his neck had been harshly snapped. He was certainly dead.

For a second I felt nauseous. Though I had hated the callous pilot, I would never have left him unconscious, if I had known the giant had survived. Whether earlier he had zoned on the pain or merely been playing dead, Abel had avenged his wounding, without mercy.

The huge man stood there, leaning slightly against the doorframe. Blood was oozing sluggishly from his shoulder as he twirled the vehicle keys from one of the fingers of his left hand, while aiming Jake's rifle nonchalantly, directly at Jim.

Just beyond him even I could clearly see several men tramping rapidly down the hill toward us, most of them clutching rifles or semi automatic weapons.

Dark gray eyes moved from me to Jim, then back again.

“Ged in dah car liddle one.” He cocked his head toward the open vehicle door.

I just tightened my hold on Jim and shook my head.

“Nowh Seer. Kincaid, ee kel you ivf you don com wid me. You wan im to leev Ellizon? You tell im to com wid me.” He turned to Jim, obviously thinking he had the final say. And I was surprised to notice a faint echo of the Sentinel instinct to protect the guide. He was itchy wanting to get me out of there, not just to claim me, but for my safety. I worried that Jim's own protectiveness might have him try to force me to go. If this had been a couple of weeks ago, it was pretty likely he would have, pragmatically seeing one alive was better then both of us dead.

Instead he just looked hard at me, the pallor of his progressive blood lose making the blue of his eyes even more intense. He was waiting for me to decide, but his eyes begged me to choose life.

“No Abel.” I answered firmly though my gaze never left Jim's face. “It won't work. Even if you took me, I could never be your 'Seer'. If Jim died I'd be dead soon after. Can't you tell? You said it yourself, my scent is different, some instinct must tell you, we're linked, bonded somehow. He's mine, I'm his. Period. If Jim dies, so will I.”

I saw the awe bloom in Jim's eyes. So he hadn't realized that the dependence was both ways. Even before my vision with Incacha, he had accepted that if anything happened to me, his senses would spiral him into chaos and claim first his sanity, then his life. But he had assumed that if he died, without the enhanced senses to bombard me, I would grieve but live on.

The realization that his death would claim me soon after, settled like a weight on him. I felt him quiver slightly and I don't think it had much to do with the blood saturating the make shift dressing and the top of his pants. He tightened his hand on my shoulder in a grip that was almost painful. Then he took a deep breath, sighed it out softly, communicating a sadness mixed with acceptance.

Abel was looking at me again, and I saw his nostrils flare as he sampled my scent again. And the acknowledgement of what I had said was there in those flinty gray eyes a moment later, with the rifle still aimed casually at Jim. And though Jim was tense, he held his position. He had already learned to his detriment just what a hair triggered Jake's rifle had.

Meanwhile I saw several emotions pass over the Abel's face. His need was raw and obvious, and a part of me twisted at the hunger I saw. Anger, need, frustration, disappointment, aggression all flickered and were replaced. Finally the parade of expressions ended, I knew he had made some decision, but I couldn't tell what the intense gaze he turned on me meant.

I saw the rifle's point shift down slightly, was he was taking aim or lowering it? I felt Jim tense and I did also. If he was going to shot us we had nothing to lose in an attack, but if he wasn't, a wrong move would maybe cause him to shot by reflex.

PING
SNAP

CRACK
CHOOM
CRACK CRACK CRACK

Jim's shoulder rammed into me, slamming me into the side of the HumVee to then fall into the semi shelter of the vehicle. Bullets hissed and impacted all around the portion of the car not hidden by the boulder that we had smacked into earlier.

Jim had his arms round my head and was wrapped about me like a cocoon, for what seemed like hours but was in fact only a couple of seconds. Then the automatic fire ceased as suddenly as it had started.

DAMN! I tried to dial down the pain in my leg again even as I dialed up my hearing and pulled back from crouching protectively over Blair. Uphill I caught the sound of harsh breathing of several men, the crunch of feet running through crusted snow.

“Harper! You idiot. You can't hit anything at this range with an automatic. All you're doing is shooting up our ride out of here.” Kincaid's voice, ragged and angry. “Just keep moving, that's not Billie and Jake, so it must be the cop and the kid. Somehow they're alive, and got the drop on our men. We have got to get there fast, take them out and then get the hell out of here.”

“Come on Chief.” I reached down a hand, and then stopped as I saw that Blair's gaze was frozen just beyond me. His eyes were wide and he had gone both pale and green at once. Shit! Abel! I'd heard the shots a fraction of a second before the untrained Sentinel probably had. So as I'd been pushing Blair out of the line of fire I'd noticed the immense body jolt hard, then again. At the same time I'd heard two soft slapping thuds.

Turning, I followed Blair's gaze to the unmoving form in the snow. This time Abel was not playing dead. One of the bullets had entered his back, but the other had taken him in the throat.

He laid there, his huge form unmoving, a darkening circle of pink going red gathering around his upper body. He had fallen on his stomach, but his head had turned at the last second. Now his sightless dead gray eyes gazed unblinkingly at my Guide, as if even in death he coveted him.

And Blair was rigid, staring, his expression blank. But his eyes… god, how I wished I could take that look away. He'd seen too much of death since joining me, and each time a little bit of him was amputated. This was a man who existed to celebrate life and even the death of an enemy devastated him.

I wanted to sooth the anguish I saw there. But before I could make a move my enhanced hearing caught the sound of an automatic bolt being pulled and the air filled again with blurs of lead. They were closer now and most of the bullets slammed into the snow and rocks inches from where we crouched.

One of the bullets struck the mid sized boulder just behind me and ricocheted up to trace a narrow, hot path across my cheek. Sandburg's gaze snapped up to my face, eyes going wide. Whatever grief he'd felt about Abel's death vanished, replaced with a protective fury that shocked me slightly. Hissing with pain I had just brought my hand up to touch the sore, bloody trail when I was grabbed by the shoulder and hauled to my feet. My previously immobilized Guide was pulling and dragging me toward the door to the HumVee.

Having been distracted I'd lost control of the pain and struggled to find the dial even as I was shoved unceremoniously through the drivers door and pushed across the bench seat to the passenger side. A heartbeat later Blair was behind the wheel ramming the keys into the ignition without even pulling the door shut.

“Comeoncomeoncomeon.” The mantra was whispered through clenched lips as the engine murmured and complained of the cold before finally catching and roaring to life.

Even as he slammed the shift handle into reverse another batch of bullets sprayed through the pock-holed windshield as we ducked down below dash level. His foot hit the gas pedal and the big all terrain vehicle almost surged off the rocky mound by the boulder and picked up speed back over the same rough ground it had traveled such a short time ago.

But where Billie and Jake had advanced at a reasonable rate, Blair seemed oblivious to the severe terrain we now traversed at what seemed like fifty… backward!

The wild journey continued for what was only a few seconds but seemed longer as I was thrown, bounced, tossed, slammed, and slid all over by the bucking bronco ride that no shock absorbers invented could minimize. All the while Sandburg's eyes were glued to the door rear view mirror, his hands white knuckled on the wheel.

About the third time my head impacted with the roof with near concussive force, a groan escaped my lips. Between my leg and a whole plethora of new bruises I was really starting to hurt. Blair heard me and seemed to rein in his all consuming priority to get us away at top speed. He tapped the brake just enough to slow us to a much more moderate pace.

His eyes going to the hillside, he could see we were back out of range of Kincaid's weapons. We were alive and we had a vehicle, and there wasn't a prayer that Kincaid could catch up with us. Blair seemed to visibly shrink as the adrenaline rush deserted his sickness weakened body.

Braking to a crawling pace he turned anxious eyes to my face then my leg, where the bandage had slipped a little with all the activity. My whole pants leg was now darkened by the creeping spread of bloodstain. I saw him start to apply the brake even more and realized he intended to stop to re-bandage my wound.

“I'm alright Chief.” I reassured him in as strong a voice as I could marshal. “I'll re-do the dressing, you just keep driving.” I knew I wasn't doing great between the pain and blood lose, but both were still manageable and I could hold out until we got to help. But I didn't need him worrying about me.

Sandburg's eyes came back up to my face, concentrating, searching for something. I felt a strange tugging sensation sort of at the back of my head and then he snorted and shook his head. “You are leagues away from being fine Jim.” He growled in a tone I was getting more and more used to lately. “You've lost control of the pain dial and you feel like shit.” He moved his foot back on to the gas. “I know you don't want to worry me man. But no more 'obfuscation' okay? I can't help you if you hide stuff from me.”

He started to turn the wheel slightly, slowing our backward progress. “Just let me get this bus turned around so I can see where I'm going and I'll talk you back through the dial reset. Okay?” The tone would have done me proud, sort of a cross between Simon and me that said, 'it had better be okay because you have absolutely no say in the matter.' He exuded a fierce competence that I had gotten glimpses of in rough situations before, but now he seemed to have incorporated it more completely into his normal self. Not really completely sure what else to say or do, I just nodded agreement.

The HumVee had turned only a little when I heard a slightly different crack of a shot. The front turn signal light splintered and sprayed colored plastic across the snow. Sandburg hit the gas and the vehicle jumped backward. Hauling hard on the wheel he began to turn us nose downhill and stamped the gas pedal urgently.

The HumVee, despite its size, responded quickly and began heaving over the rocky ground away from our persistent pursuers.

“What does it take for those morons to give it up?” Blair hissed with aggravation as he struggled with the steering wheel that bucked in his hands each time he hit a rock or hole.

“They can't stop.” I said as I reinforced the bandage on my leg with some cloth from my own tee shirt. “We've got the only working vehicle on this mountain now. They don't want to try and walk out of here, they have to stop us.”

“Great!” He snapped. “Have you got any good news?”

I smiled at the intense face. “Yes actually. I eavesdropped on Kincaid. The police showed up at Billie and Jake's. Three guess's who sent them.”

Blair's face lit like a light bulb. He never could hold on to 'pissed off' for long. “Simon!”

I nodded. Then held on tight as simultaneously I heard the crack of a shot, a loud band and the big vehicle lurched hard. Sandburg struggled for control as he hit the brakes.

Swinging open the door Blair stepped out onto the running board leaning around to look at the vehicles rear. “I think they got a tire Jim.”

“Never mind Sandburg.” I advised sharply. “This thing can still make better time then they can on foot. When we get farther away we'll stop and change the tire. Right now though, let's just put as much distance between us as possible.”

Nodding in agreement he began to climb back into the drivers seat. Another shot cracked out and Sandburg jolted forward, grunting. Then he scrambled the rest of the way in, cranked the shift into gear and hit the gas harder than you should when you have one blown tire on questionable terrain.

The HumVee's rear sheared back and forth but maintained it's forward course at a respectable rate and in the rear view mirror I saw Kincaid's group start running after us again.

But all of that barely penetrated my consciousness, as suddenly my whole world was my sense of smell as the cab filled with the odor of blood. Fresh blood. Sandburg blood!

Pushing across the seat I was pawing at him even as he was swatting weakly at me with his right hand, his left still wrapped like steel on the wheel. Grabbing the hand I growled in a no nonsense snarl. “Where are you hit Sandburg?”

“Leave it Jim. It's just a flesh wound. It can wait until we're farther away too.” But I ignored him, snarling I pushed him forward until his chest was almost on the steering wheel and he was forced to practically wrap his arms around it. Running my hand down first the near, then the far side of his back, I froze when I encountered wet, warmth at his waist almost on his left hip.

I tried to move behind him to see the wound but there just wasn't enough room between him and the seat back.

“Stop this thing Sandburg.” I commanded angrily. Furious that he was still trying to prevent me getting a good look at his injury.

“Jim, we're still to close. Take it easy. It went right through my love handle, nothing but fat.” His voice was steady and a little surprised. “It doesn't even hurt that bad.”

“Damn Sandburg! You didn't have any fat before; you sure don't have any left after a week of near starvation. And it may not hurt because you're going into shock. Now stop this damn bus and let me see it!”

I slid my injured leg over his and tried to hit the brakes even as he was still trying to apply the gas. But before the contest could be settled chance took over as the front right tire ran up a large, snow-hidden rock and the left tire happened to drop into an inconveniently placed hole. Physics and gravity did the rest and despite its wide wheel base the HumVee flipped onto its side.

It was lucky I had already been half wrapped around Blair, because if I'd been sitting on the far side of the seat when it had shot up I would have fallen down on him like a rock, doing neither of us a lot of good. But instead I just was thrown across him, slamming him into the driver's door and half crushing him into the snow and broken glass of the shattered window. My leg was now throbbing and wasn't able to focus my senses enough to scan him for injuries, or anyway any NEW injuries.

“Shit! Owwww. Ji im! Geez, I wasn't hurting enough man. Get off me. Damn, you're going on a diet when we get home. How the hell much do you WEIGHT!” The stream of expletives and squirming that erupted beneath me was oddly reassuring.

Grabbing the steering wheel for leverage I managed to heave myself up off my partner enough for him to pull out slightly so that his back was against the roof and his butt on the drivers door. I then slid my feet to either side of his sitting form so that I was standing up with my back along the bench seat. Or at least I was standing on one leg, the other having returned to useless limpness, refusing to bare my weight at all.

Both of us were filled with immediate urgency, Blair extended a hand which I used to haul him to his feet beside me. As I tried to turn him so I could see his back and check his wound he swatted at me irritably and snapped, “Not now Jim. How far away?” He kept his voice low though, since his mouth was now crammed only inches from my ear.

I shook my head in frustration. “Can't get a lock Chief. My hearings all over the place. I'm getting sounds coming from both uphill and downhill, some kind of feedback or something. It's like there are men all around us. But none really close. Come on.” Even as I said it I tried to use my good leg to kick out the windshield that was a sheet of broken bits. But you can't kick with the only leg holding you up. But Blair realized my intent and put his heavy boots to good use. As soon as the barrier fell away Blair climbed over the steering wheel and out. The he leaned in and helped me balance as I maneuvered around the steering wheel and dash to finally step free.

The HumVee had flipped with it's bottom downhill and it's top up. So as soon as we stepped from the cab we could see Garrett Kincaid and four of his men clambering towards us, guns at the ready. Blair grabbed my arm and pulled it across his shoulder, balancing me to hobble with him around the front of the vehicle headed downhill.

Even as he placed the HumVee between Kincaid, and us his voice dropped into the nearly hypnotic Guide tone. “We have to get your leg desensitized again Jim. You remember the drill? Close your eyes and find the dials. Trust me I'll watch were we're going. See the right one? The one for pain. Filter the layers of sensation, that's it… just the pain from the wound. Found it? Good, good. Now bring it down, bit by bit. The pains leaving, oozing away, fading more and more and more, until the leg is fine and the wound is just a numb tingly area like your mouth after a shot of Novocain.”

Trying to focus on the dials while running, or in my case hobbling, for your life, shouldn't have been possible. But so great was the power of Sandburg's voice when it took on that tone I could ignore the hazards around me easier than ignore it. Weird. So I followed that mesmerizing sound everywhere it lead me and within a very short time opened my eyes in pleased relief.

“Okay?” Blair still had my arm around his neck, incase… but I was bearing my own weight on the leg again.

“Yeah Chief. Fine. Thanks again.”

He smiled that smile that I think is reserved just for me. That 'for you anything' smile that reminded me of what I'd seen in his eyes in the cave when he'd been feverish and let me see his inner soul.

Before I could say anything else a line of bullets plowed into a rock about ten yards behind us. One of Kincaid's crew had out distanced his fellows and was coming around the HumVee, his automatic waving around as he ran and fired simultaneously.

We took off for the nearby trees, me wishing the whole way I had a weapon, any weapon. This guy was the worst shot in the Northern Hemisphere, but with the number of rounds he was spraying around one of them was bound to catch us eventually.

As if reading my mind as soon as we got to the tree line and had a couple of sturdy trees to stand behind, Blair screeched to a stop suddenly. Bending he grabbed the first good sized rock he could find, hauled back and let go a base burning fast ball. The gun man had been concentrating so much on running that he didn't even notice that his prey had came to a stop and turned on him. Blair's pitch was straight, powerful and right on target. The man never even really saw the stone that took him in the head and dropped him in his stride to lay face first in the snow.

I had wasted no time, realizing what my partner had in mind as soon as I saw him grab the rock I had turned and started running back toward our pursuer. I had seen Blair's accuracy at throwing and I trusted him to take down the gunman. I reached the unconscious man just after he had flopped forward, grabbing the automatic from his now limp hand and patting his pockets looking for more clips.

Damn… no other ammo. And judging from the barrage he'd been laying down there couldn't be many rounds left in the current clip in the gun.

Shaking my head in aggravation, I trotted back to Sandburg who was leaning against a tree. When he raised his eyebrows in inquiry I knew what he was asking.

“No spare clips. What kind of amateur doesn't carry spare clips?” I remarked with just a trace of exasperation.

“Jim, nobody ever accused Kincaid and his group of being overqualified. Just mean.” There was the faintest trace of both amusement and conciliatory feeling in his tone. But I wasn't noticing anymore. I had spotted the wound in his side.

“Hell Sandburg! Flesh wound my ass!” The waist and pocket area of his pants were now a matching dark stain to my own pants leg. I reached over too fast for him to intercept and pulled up jacket and under layers of clothing to reveal an ugly hole in his side that was drooling red unimpeded, and showing no sign of slowing. I was pulling bandage strips from my already torn tee shirt even as I shoved him up against the tree to hold him still.

“Jim we haven't got time for this right now.” Blair's voice was strong and insistent, belaying the pallor and returning clamminess of his skin. He was getting shocky and didn't even realize it.

“Shut it Sandburg.” I snarled with barely contained rage. The smell of his blood was ripping through me and setting off every primal imperative I had. I didn't even question this feeling of fury. My Guide was bleeding and that was just intolerable.

As I worked a strip of cloth around his middle and pulled it tight over a thick pad I'd placed over the wound, I found all my senses tuned to a level I'd never managed before except when I was having spikes. But now they were firmly under my command and feeding me a steady stream of information.

I heard several sounds from a dozen directions, but as I tended my partner and friend I relegated them to the background. Suddenly one of the sounds broke through as I caught a safety being snapped off.

I snatched the automatic rifle from where I had leaned it, switched the gun from automatic to single shot with my thumb and fired. The man who had come quietly around the front of the HumVee, yards behind us had thought he was unnoticed and had an easy kill. He'd taken his time bringing up his weapon, flipping the safety and taking aim at the broad exposed back of what he thought was an oblivious, occupied cop.

The gunman died even as he focused on the burning blue eyes that seemed to be superimposed on the image of a snarling black jaguar's face.

“Come on Jim. We have to get moving. Maybe Kincaid will settle for just up- righting the truck, changing the tire and getting out of here with his skin. You're armed now, so he might rethink chasing us. But just in case, we don't want to hang around!” Blair was almost bouncing in place, and despite the pallor, the blood, the thinness and wane, drawn appearance, right now to me he was the most glorious thing in my world.

“No Chief. It's over.” I stated quietly as I walked toward him. His eyes grew large in his face. “Jim! Do not tell me you're giving up man. We can make it. Hell we have a head start and a gun. You've made out with less. We'll make it. Don't worry about me, I'll keep up, I promise.” He was almost pleading at the end as I realized he had misunderstood me. Sometimes I forget he can't hear what I can.

“Easy Blair, I mean we don't have to run anymore.” I said reassuringly as I walked up to stand just in front of him. Cocking my head slightly I zeroed in on the sounds I'd been following for a couple of minutes as my hand went up to brush his face with my knuckles, gentle as I could manage. His eyes moved from the group of gun totting maniac's moving cautiously around the front of the HumVee, turning to my face. For a fleeting second his expression showed fear and confusion, but that quickly morphed to one of absolute trust. I smiled as I stroked his cheek and murmured a reassuring, “The cavalry has arrived.”

As if summoned by my words the trees just below us fairly boiled with men rushing out of them. The new group swarmed to intercept Kincaid and his few remaining men, surrounding them almost as quick as they realized that they had gone from being the hunters to the prey.

Despite the heavy coats and furry hats I recognized the strips down the leggings of a good number of our rescuers. Mounties. Well that proved we were in Canada all right. But I was more interested in the small tight group of five who had brought up the rear of the charge and veered in our direction as soon as clear of the trees.

They tromped through the snow with their weapons rigidly at the ready, but ignored the hoopla around Kincaid and moved toward Sandburg and I with the hard intent expressions of people who would not be stopped.

Simon, Joel, Rafe, Brown and Connor.

“About time you got here.” I called as they came within range, the smile on my face robbing the words of any harshness.

Next to me Blair's smile, if possible, was even more brilliant. “Hey guys! Boy, are we glad to see you!”

Simon, with his longer legs, covered the ground first and came to stand in front of us with a look that did little to hide his relief and happiness. Even as he tried to cover with the classic 'I'm the Captain' facade I could see that he hadn't slept well and had pushed himself hard lately.

Megan and Rafe bounded up next, looking like they had been racing each other. They pulled up beside Simon and their smiles were triumphant. “Told you they'd be okay didn't I?” Rafe said cheerily. Megan just nodded happily, her eyes seeming to drink us in.

Brown and Joel jogged up next and joined the group, Brown beaming like he'd won the lottery and Joel looking like a parent whose child had just been returned to him.

Blair, still beaming, chirped out a happy, “How did you get here? We're in Canada aren't we?”

Simon, as always the main spokesperson, growled a little as he answered. “We have the permission of the Canadian government to come along, strictly as observers.”

“Must have been an interesting conversation Simon.” I smirked tilting my head pointedly at each of their very conspicuous weapons. “I can't help but notice each of the 'observers' is armed. I guess the Canadian governments definition of observer comes from the same dictionary as Sandburg's.”

Blair snickered but then ducked slightly behind me as Simon turned to glare at us both.

For a second they all just stood there, looking us up and down. All of them, like Simon, looked like they'd been harried and hard used recently. I could only imagine how many hours they had put in looking for Sandburg and I. How many sleepless nights tracking every clue, following every lead? And then when the trail had led across the border into Canada, what must it have taken to move another government to pursue the hunt as well as allow them to participate.

It was Joel who moved first, grabbing Blair up into a bear hug that had his eyes bulging and his face wrinkling into a pained grimace. He held the groan as his wound was squeezed, and honestly managed to beam a smile at him as the big man pulled back to hold the anthropologist by the shoulders. Unconsciously I'd moved toward them when I'd sensed the pain spike as he was embraced, but Blair somehow felt my intention and glanced my way, stopping me with a look.

But I needn't have worried. Joel had felt the bandage and wetness on my partner's side, and his eyes now turned serious as he took in Blair's pallor and strained face. “You've been shot!” He blurted the obvious and looked at me again, noticing the pressure dressing on my leg. “Hell Simon, they've both been shot!”

Simon rolled his eyes slightly and I knew he'd already noticed that little fact himself, but he with good humor didn't say so.

“They've got vehicles just a mile or so South of here, with a full medical compliment.” He told me as he moved forward to take my arm as I bobbled slightly. All the sudden I just felt like I had passed some limit I hadn't noticed.

Blair was beside me instantly, his own weariness forgotten. “I'm fine, helps here now,” he crooned so softly no one but me could have heard. “It's safe to let go, let the Sentinel relax.” The words leached away my strength so fast I slid against him and we both ended up sitting on the ground.

“Get some transport up here NOW!” Simon's none to subtle bellow could probably be heard back in Cascade.

Within a minute we were swarmed by unfamiliar men in uniforms who seemed to miraculously materialize blankets, water, energy bars and medical supplies from backpacks some of them carried. Not much later the roar of engines preceded a small parade of snow tractors and all terrain vehicles. One of the larger boxy machines pulled up within a couple of dozen feet of where Blair and I were bundled at the base of a tree with five cop pit bulls standing guard.

The back doors swung open to display an impressively set up mobile ambulance cum mini emergency room. Though we had slogged probably fifty miles up and down the damn mountain the Mounties wouldn't let Blair or I walk the few yards to the medical squad. Blair rolled his eyes as a stretcher was placed by each of us and we were lifted and carried the short distance.

The team who carried us wouldn't even let Simon or any of our friend's help, which earned them a little taste of Megan's tongue. But if glares could kill the one guy who called her 'Miss' and asked her to not get underfoot should have dropped on the spot. “That's Inspector to you Mate.” She responded icily, “and you can take your foot and put it where…” Simon jumped in to calm her down before she triggered an international incident.

The stretchers were placed side by side on elevated gurney's in the squad and a team of what was either doctors or very advanced Medics began pulling and cutting our clothes off of us. Simon tried to climb in also but one of the medical men headed him off and informed him there just wasn't room while they worked.

Simon harrumphed sourly and then caught my eye, “I'll be right behind them Ellison. You just do what they say and keep Sandburg out of trouble.” He was glaring at the doctors as big doors closed and heat poured in to the small space, much to a half naked Blair's relief.

An I.V. was put in first my arm, then another in Blair's, as he pointedly looked away from the needle being slid into his arm. “Jim. With all the guys here, who do you think is watchin' the store?” He turned to me for distraction, but didn't even pause. “I mean, did they just close down Major Crimes to come look for us?” I looked at him and smiled at his babbling as the engine started up and we began to move downhill. At first I followed the soothing steady monologue Sandburg was emitting on his concern for Cascade in the absence of it's entire 'protector' group, and the probability who ever was standing in for the gang was probably mooching all of his special tea in the break room. But then my hearing caught and began to follow a conversation just beyond the closed doors.

Megan was talking to Simon, “Sir, mind if I ask you a question?”

“Sure Inspector, fire away.” Simon responded to the respectful tone and knew she wasn't kidding around.

“When you first knew Kincaid escaped and had probably been who grabbed Sandy and Jim, you were frantic Sir. No offense. But you really expected the worst.”

“Yeah Connor, I did. I thought Kincaid would focus on Jim. He might of just killed Blair right off, or even let him go if he'd only been taken as bait. He only thinks of the kid as an inconvenient accessory to Jim's work.”

“Yeah, I thought of that. But later, when the evidence seemed to show that the bast' …um sorry Sir, that Kincaid had apparently kept Sandy, and kicked them both out of a plane together, I don't know…it just seemed like you weren't as worried? Why? If you don't mind my asking.” She faltered for a second, trying to pin down her confusion. “I mean, I would have thought you would have been more worried, Jim being trained for survival and all, but having to also look after an untrained civilian.” She shook her head. “I know Jim's your friend, and Sandy thinks you only tolerate him because of Jim's Sentinel stuff. You seemed, I don't know… glad that Sandy was with Jim, even though you must have felt he would lessen Ellison's chances.”

Simon's voice became rough with emotion. “Sandburg will never know just how much I admire him Connor, and if you ever tell him, well… remember just who signs your paycheck. But the answer to your question is yes, I was worried until I was pretty sure that Sandburg was with Jim. But once I knew they were together I knew they'd both make it.”

“But why? Sandy just isn't trained for this sort of stuff.” Megan's voice was still confused.

“It isn't so much what Sandburg and Ellison can an can't do. It's what the are, together, that makes the difference.”

“You've lost me Captain.”

“If Jim was dumped on this mountain without Sandburg, and Kincaid had come hunting, what do you think he would have done?”

“Knowing Ellison, he would have tried to get to Kincaid and take him down.” Megan said confidently.

“Exactly! Ellison can be counted on to take insane risks if he feels the job needs doing.”

“Sandy isn't exactly above being a little insane with his safety too?”

“Yes, with his own safety Sandburg has pretty much no survival instinct.”

“Like I said Sir. You've lost me. If they both take insane risks, why did having them together somehow make you confident they'd be okay?”

“Because come hell or high water, the one constant in those two men's universe is the paramount importance of the other. Jim would never leave Sandburg unprotected and alone by risking himself, at least not as much. And Sandburg would never allow Jim to be killed or let him do something that could get him killed. As long as the kid is with him he will make sure Jim does the smart thing whether he wants to or not.”

“You make it sound like Sandy is the one in charge?” Megan sounded shocked.

“Not in charge necessarily, but in a way he's always been guiding Jim. He is very subtle, I doubt he knows he's doing it on a conscious level, but if you look close you'll see, most of the time it looks like Sandburg is deferring to Ellison, but when it's really important Ellison invariably looks to the kid for answers. They are just like the old saw about the whole…”

“Excuse me?” Now there was a world of confusion in Megan's tone.

“The 'whole', you know… the equation, 'the whole, being greater than the sum of its parts.' The two parts, Ellison and Sandburg, both of them bring a lot to their partnership. Blair is smarter than I think even we realize, intuitive, creative, definitely weird, and loyal to a fault, especially to Jim. I would bet on him in almost any non-aggressive situation. Jim is a natural athlete and trained to be the best at what he does. He is aggressive, precise to the point of down right anal, and protective to a fault, of his people, his city and especially of Blair. Apart, each of them is unique and special.” His voice took on an oddly awed quality. “But they are so much more when they are together.”

“Greater then the sum of their parts.” Megan intoned, understanding at last.

“Exactly.” Simon confirmed. “Come on Connor. I told Jim we'd be right behind them… and I mean to be just that.

We had drawn far enough away that I was having to strain to hear, so I reeled my hearing back in and focused back on my partner who had fallen quiet. His was watching me and seemed to sense as soon as my attention was back in the here and now.

“Where were you man?” He whispered as the two doctors were at the front of the unit, preparing what looked like big syringes with equally big needles. Oh Sandburg was going to love that I thought to myself before answering him. He was bad about taking pills, but show him a needle and he all but jumped out of his skin.

“Just listening.” I said nonchalantly, wondering when he'd notice what the medical men were up to.

“To who?”

“Simon.”

“What was he talking about that you found so interesting?”

“Us.”

“You and me, Us?

“What other way could us be us, except you and me?” That ought to distract him for a few seconds.

“Never mind. What was he saying?”

“It would be rude for me to discuss another person's conversation Chief.”

“Well, it was rude to eavesdrop, but you did that. So give. What did he say about us?”

“Just a bunch of stuff. That we are insane, that you're weird, and I'm anal. That kind of stuff.”

“Ouch, he must be ticked at us for getting into this and him having to come rescue us.”

“Maybe.”

“But I think he was worried a lot to. Did you see how tired he looked, how tired they all looked. Sometimes I forget just how lucky we are; I mean… well those kinds of friends, the kind who'll always come for you when you're in trouble, they're one in million, and we've got a whole bunch. You know?”

I looked over at him, thinking back over the last week. “Yeah Chief. One in a million.”

I sat in the Jeep watching as Sandburg moved slowly away from me, across the too green, too neatly maintained grass. He was looking down and his eyes were tracing back and forth between the plaques and stones that were placed symmetrically along the way. Finally, several hundred feet from me, he moved to stand before a small stone cross that protruded from the emerald carpet slightly apart from the other stones.

I watched him maneuver to kneel next to the tiny monument, taking it slow so as not to pull too much at his healing but still achy wound. I wished I was with him, but he had noticed that my leg was paining me from all the recent use and had insisted I stay with the Jeep. Neither of us was 100% yet. It had only been two weeks since we'd all come down from the mountain. Sandburg and I to the hospital, Kincaid and his group to prison to await extradition.

And brother it had been almost as busy a fortnight as the time preceding it. We'd been kept in the hospital in Quesnel for three days, during which time we'd both driven the staff to distraction. What can I say, neither one of us is a very good patient.

We'd each had a bullet removed in relatively uncomplicated surgeries the first day. Which while we were unconscious was about the only time we were quiet and cooperative. Blair had been first under the knife and had barely been out from under the anesthesia when he started demanding to check the drugs they planned to use on me.

The still ill anthropologist would probably have been an even bigger nuisance if the anesthetic hadn't interacted with the antibiotics they had started him on to fight his residual pneumonia. The resulting nausea and vomiting had slowed him down for all of twenty-four hours and had me nearly beside myself with concern, as he couldn't keep a meal down.

I still remember Simon's shock when he'd seen just how much weight Blair had lost, especially when in the same time I had barely lost ten pounds. I had reminded him that Blair had been burning calories keeping warm, fighting illness, plus this was Sandburg we were talking about, even in his sleep he's a perpetual motion machine.

I meanwhile hadn't done much to endear myself to my doctors either, but luckily Simon had convinced the doctor's to keep us in a room together after I'd left the recovery room dragging I.V. poles and irate nurses, to hobble down to Blair's room after I'd heard him throwing up and coughing in the bathroom. He'd crawled over the bed rail to get there, then become too weak and couldn't get to the call signal.

When the arrangements were made to transfer us to Cascade General I could swear I heard a collective sigh of relief from the whole staff.

The flight home hadn't been soon enough for me. As the plane's wheels touched down there was no denying it felt as if a weight lifted from me that I hadn't even recognized I'd been feeling. Blair had nudged me in the ribs gently calling my attention to the fact that apparently I was making purring noises? His best explanation was that it was the reaction of a Sentinel returning to his territory after a stressful absence. I think having him back in that territory had a good deal to do with it myself.

I'd gotten immediate proof of how well the people at Cascade General knew us when we arrived to find a shared room set up. The nurses who had taken care of one or the other of us way to frequently for my comfort, had Blair's favorite tea's on hand for him as well as the bed linen's that had not been washed in harsh detergent waiting for me.

Blair had been discharged three days later though still on a myriad of drugs, with strict instructions about rest, and nutrition and no bending, lifting or straining. I'd been frustrated as hell when I was unable to convince them to let me go also. I had even considered discharging myself AMA, but Blair had forbidden it, and I had acquiesced.

Predictably Sandburg had returned daily and overseen my physical therapy with a combination of drill sergeant zeal and concerned guilt. I'd seen my Guide's face when the doctor had told me that he couldn't believe I'd been able to run around on the leg after being shot, but that by doing so there had been some damage done.

Sandburg had been stricken to realize that by aiding me to circumvent my natural pain response he'd helped me to compound my injury. Anxious to ease his distress I'd reminded my partner that if he hadn't gotten me up on my feet that I would be dead now and no amount of therapy would reverse that. It had only slightly relieved the dark pain swirling in those once oh so bright eyes.

With Blair being so intense each time he'd come in, I'd worried that he was maybe suffering some late reaction to our trial on the mountain. But then Simon clued me in that Blair had found out that Abel's body had been cremated at the order of a very distant cousin who was the only relative the authorities had been able to locate.

Apparently the fact that the cousin had not cared to make a declaration for the disposition of the ashes had motivated Blair to contact him. Totally disinterested in anything to do with a distant cousin who'd been an embarrassing criminal, the man had been more than happy to give Blair permission to do anything he wished with the remains.

I had felt a momentary flash of anger as Simon reported that Sandburg had been making phone calls and arrangements to go to Saguenay, Abel's home. But that had evaporated as Simon had gone on to report that the arrangements had been for two, and that my sensitive friend had also inquired about the disposition of the other three of Kincaid's men who had died on the mountain. I'd felt guilty about my earlier spark of anger when later that very day Blair had disclosed his plans, his need for closure, and his hope that I didn't mind that he naturally assumed I would accompany him.

I should have realized that the softhearted anthropologist would have carried a certain amount of misplaced guilt about the deaths. Even though they had been out to kill us, he had never been the kind to simply move on and forget those killed, no matter the situation. I should know, I had watched him stand at the graveside of Lash only two weeks after the sicko had tried to kill him. That had been against my loudly voiced protest. But he had insisted that the monster that had almost had him as his last victim, had also been a victim, created by an equally insane parent. Blair seemed to have a bottomless capacity to forgive. And I couldn't very well fault him for it, since it had allowed him to forgive me so many times.

Not that I'd been thrilled with the plans timing. Blair was still too thin, too worn, and the normally energetic T.A. still exhausted in no time at all. But though I really wanted him to rest, I knew that he wouldn't as long as the burden of this assumed responsibility lay on him.

So here we were. The flight had been tiring for both of us. And then there had been the two-hour drive from Saguenay, to the small town that had grown out of the hidden community Abel had not seen in twenty years.

It didn't take much looking to discover the remnants of the Chasseur family, and that the tragedy started two decades ago had been worse then even Abel had realized.

Blair had sat quietly on a wood step while I'd occupied the only other chair on the porch of a tumbled down log cabin on the outskirts of town. Old Mrs. Truriel was one of the very few people who had been around since the time of Abel's grandfather. Though eighty-two she had recounted with amazing detail the end of generations of Sentinel's.

Less then a week after Abel had been driven out little Davy had collapsed, whimpering out Abel's name over and over, and all the efforts of the elder Chassier to rally the boy had been useless. The crazed Sentinel had tried to cajole then bully the distraught youngster. But for three weeks the child had withdrawn further and further into himself, silent, disinterested in anything. Finally, moaning Abel's name the young guide had slipped quietly away from the clutches of a man who had forced him to turn from the one who had filled his heart after the death of his parents.

Even though he knew he had stolen Davy from his rightful companion, the imagined escape of the boy after the death of his own guide drove the old Sentinel the rest of the way into insanity. The once respected lawman simply turned his back on the small, lifeless form and walked away into the woods. His frozen body was found in the high country by neighbor's days later.

Somehow without a Sentinel and Guide to aid and protect them, the small hidden clan began to disperse. Many migrated to the safety of the larger nearby towns. Others chose to journey deeper into the expansive mountains.

Within a few years little of the community remained and what was left was sold off to strangers to build vacation cabins, farmhouses and businesses.

Now only a handful of the original folks, too old or too stubborn, like Mrs. Truriel, remained. She had told her stories of the 'Hunter's' of her clan, who had mystic abilities of sight, hearing, taste, touch, and smell to rival that of the animals of the forest. And the educated newcomer's smiled mockingly and humored the old woman they assumed was going senile. So in time she had stopped speaking of gifted one's, even when urged, recognizing the condescension of the askers.

I had watched her when we'd arrived. Seen the way she looked first at Blair, then me. She had told me that when the wane young man with the ancient blue eyes and long curly hair had arrived asking about Abel, and Davy, she had known immediately what he was, who we were, even without my unconscious hovering behind him. So she had told her stories again, and I'd felt a deep distress for the fledgling 'Seer' ripped from the side of his destined 'Hunter'. And when she spoke of the last days of little Davy I couldn't help it as I reached to clasp my hands on Blair's shoulders, as if reassuring myself that my own 'Seer' was still well, still with me.

And now my Guide knelt at the small grave of a twelve year old that had never had a chance to have what Blair and I shared. I watched as hands that trembled slightly carefully dug a shallow hole and lowered a simple urn into it, and knew that this was right. Sandburg was right. A compassionate Guide, now reunited those who had been separated by a crazed Sentinel. No matter what else, a Sentinel belonged with his Guide, in this life and the next.

Blair's hand reverently smoothed the earth back to cover the last vestiges of a man I had considered an enemy, but now recognized, as Blair had, as another victim. A criminal, not blameless certainly, but damaged by Davy's loss undeniably. Abel had only had his Guide for a few months and look what his lose had done to the man. What might I have become if I survived, but lost Blair, to Lash, or Kincaid, or Alex? I shivered at the thought but knew it would never happen… because I now knew I would never survive.

Standing slowly, Blair just stood for a second, and I saw the minute tremors of exhaustion and strain. He was way to far away to see me move, or have heard me, yet just as I started to ease out of the Jeep to go to him, his eyes swung unerringly toward me, freezing me in place. I felt the increasingly familiar but strange sensation at the back of my head, like my scalp was momentarily too tight. Then a faint tide of sadness, guilt, and most especially love washed over me.

“I'm coming now, stay put Jim.” Though his tone was gentle, Sentinel hearing picked up the command effortlessly. And it was a command. And I obeyed it without rancor.

It came easier now, obeying him, the respect. Not in everything. I still tried frequently to gain some control over him. But something had changed on the mountain. Even Simon had noticed, at least the outward displays of it. He'd driven us to the airport and witnessed Blair making arrangements for a wheelchair for me to use to get to our plane's gate, which was a long way from the check in. I'd immediately refused the need, after all I was up and using a cane, and the therapy was going well to decrease the pain. There had been no argument, just two sets of blue eyes meeting, then Blair had quietly reminded me that the doctor had said to use the leg as little as possible, and I WAS going to use the wheelchair. And I had.

At the departure gate, when Blair had gone into the men's room, Simon had stared hard at me for a second, and I can still hear his remarks.

“You two… it's different between you, isn't it?” He hadn't even waited for an answer. “I didn't notice at first, or I just put it down to more Sentinel weirdness. Whatever happened, it's not just you though, it's Sandburg too. He's more… confident. No that's not the word, he's always been so damn positive of things. I guess it's more like he's… content. Yeah, content. With himself, his place in the big picture, and with you.”

“I tell ya Jim, after Barnes I thought he'd cut you lose for sure. Cut us all lose. But even though he stayed, you could see it in his eyes. The anticipation. He was just waiting for you to discard him, or distrust him, to tell him you didn't need him. And I wasn't any better, I just stood by watching, sometimes even contributing to it. How often I'd see him almost fade away, when you or I would just ignore his opinion or disregard his contribution, his instincts, hell disregard him.”

“I remember in the early days, the time's I'd pull my hair out when he'd explode in a meeting with one of those hair brained idea's of his. Or he'd suddenly blurt out from nowhere, with all this weird eclectic information that didn't seem to have anything to do with the case.”

“But that had stopped, did you notice? He was less and less willing to put himself out there for us to shot down. Even with the Sentinel stuff, I know I always say I don't want to know… but I couldn't miss some things. He was letting you bull your way through problems with your senses, even if he knew you were wrong, like you'd convinced him that the Sentinel didn't need help. Like he really was only an observer, just a bystander. And I reinforced that every chance I could by reminding him he wasn't a cop, not one of us, not allowed in. An outsider looking in, and he wanted in so bad. We were killing him by inches.”

In all the years we'd been friends, I don't remember Simon ever talking to me this openly or this long before. But now I saw an unresolved guilt in his eyes, he needed this. He was only saying what I'd thought about on the mountain.

“When I first realized Kincaid had you two, I went a little crazy, you could be dead or dying, and there wasn't a thing I could do about it. And I kept thinking about the last few years, about our friendship Jim, and how much better you are, I am… for knowing that goofy, sunshine pumping energizer bunny. I thought of how I treated him sometimes, being as damn suspicious of him as you were. And I realized he's my friend too, I'm not sure when that happened, he kind of snuck in when I wasn't looking.”

“He tends to do that.” I'd murmured smiling. But I doubt my Captain heard because he wasn't finished.

“But since you've been back I've seen a change in you, both of you. I've seen you not only listen, but really 'hear' him. Sometimes you've deferred to his decisions, following him, where before you would have insisted on being in control.”

“And him, despite his cocky façade, I think he was a bit unsure, even scared that he was doing this guiding you stuff all wrong. But now it's like all doubts have evaporated. Hell, he seems to almost anticipate what you need before you even know. He knows who he is again, he's found his purpose. Or maybe he knows that he's needed and belongs. I don't know. But I tell you… thank god.”

Suddenly his dark eyes grew stern and nailed me hard.

“And so help me Jim… you screw it up and reject that special man again and I may shot you myself!”

I'd smiled at the threat, who'd a thunk…even Simon! “Don't worry Simon. I know what I've got and I won't make that mistake ever again.”

He'd nodded firmly, like we'd made some kind of contract. But before he could say any more a certain longhaired anthropologist had come up, still drying his hands. Seeing both of our eyes on him so intently he'd looked down at his pants, then back up at us.

“What? Is my fly open or something?” He challenged in confusion.

“Nothing Sandburg.” Simon growled roughly. “Your damn flight is being called. Let's roll your partner on over there so you can get gone, though I still think you're both insane for not waiting a little longer. Neither one of you can pretend you're nearly healthy enough to go off on a trip like this.”

I had to agree with him on that point. But my Guide needed this, and what he needed I would make sure he got from now on. Simon may have thought that Blair had found his purpose, but I had found mine also. I was a Sentinel. Just like I was a cop. And that wasn't weird, or separate from Jim Ellison. And without my Guide neither the Sentinel nor Jim Ellison would be worth much.

Blair was my Guide, and that meant recognizing he was also my equal. The need to protect him would never stop, in fact that need seemed even more pronounced now than before, but I would have to rein in treating him like a subordinate. Like he had said…I had to let him be my Guide.

I knew everything wasn't resolved yet. Neither of us could change overnight. And there was no way I was going to leave him totally unrestrained. His chronic lack of self preservation made it for sure there were still going to be times the Sentinel had to protect his Guide, even from himself. I knew too that there were going to be some roaring arguments as Blair grew into his abilities, both as Guide and Shaman.

I just wasn't completely comfortable with that little wrinkle yet. And it wasn't only the Shaman stuff either. I'd extracted a promise from him to not try to heal my leg or any other hocus-pocus when I'd realized he felt guilty about the injury. He at least agreed to discuss with me in advance any plans for experimenting with his 'powers'. So I had a little piece of mind on the Shaman front. But that didn't prepare me for the development of Blair's 'Guide' enhancement.

It had never occurred to me that with his own 'acceptance' of his role that he too would come fully into whatever it was that made a Guide a Guide. Now I knew.

Blair had always been sensitive to the needs, feelings and motivations of others. He was the one who invariably reassured victims at crime scenes, putting people at ease as soon as they meet him, comforting the grieving, calming the traumatized. Everyone talked freely to Sandburg, and he always seemed to sense what they were feeling, what they needed.

Well in the hospital I'd quickly caught on that those traits had somehow expanded, to include a semi painful manifestation. He'd tried to play down the growing headaches and explain away the invasive emotions he thought he was imagining. But he'd been scared and confused.

But the reality of the situation and its connection to his being my Guide came not from his reaction to the frightening sensations, but from their sudden cessation.

While supervising my therapy one day he'd felt the insidious invasion of emotions that were not his own. He'd gone from a nuisance headache to nearly crying out in distress in a matter of minutes. Picking up his skyrocketing heart rate had alarmed me to the point of hobbling over to him and instinctively pulling him into a protective hug.

That had been the first time I really noticed feeling the strange yank at the back of my mind as a faint but perceivable rush of feelings of pain and fear had run through me like a flush of heat. Almost the moment I processed the sensation, the tremors vibrating through Blair just stopped. He'd looked up with both surprise and relief on his pale face as the pain vanished in the protection of my presence. Almost immediately the faint echo of emotions I'd been picking up blinked out like a barrier had slammed down and I was treated to a really rare sight… a stunned speechless Sandburg.

Therapy forgotten, we'd spent the afternoon discussing his 'episode'. He had a dozen theories on what the hell was going on, but his best guess was that for whatever reason his natural empathy had been enhanced to the point of near telepathy. That somehow he was accidentally picking up ambient emotions around him. He equated our time on the mountain to my time in Peru, the semi isolation and stress apparently bringing him 'on line' just as I had been. When I'd challenged that this might be some of the mystic Shaman shit, like the nearly fatal little healing trick, he'd pretty much shot that down.

“It feels really different then when that stuff was going on Jim.” He'd insisted. “This feels… natural. Nothing mystic at all. You always' are saying how I seem to 'sense' what people are feeling. Well I think that this is like a natural occurring sense, empathy, but pumped up a bit. I really believe it's a Guide thing, an enhancement of what I normally have, just like your senses are enhancements of normal senses. And I'm going to have to learn to control this just like you have.”

I remembered too well how when my senses first appeared they'd been totally haywire and painful as hell. So I bought in to his explanation that this unpleasant onset was just because he wasn't aware of how to moderate the enhanced sensitivity. But I was tempted to clue him in on the reality that despite what he thought… I still didn't have control. He's my control. But I decided not to spook him when he was all ready a little shaken by this.

Of course Sandburg could turn even something painful into a fascinating discovery. “Maybe ancient Sentinel's and Guides needed to be able to sense each other for survival. This might be an additional natural tracking system for me to find you since I can't see or smell you a mile away.” He didn't notice the look on my face when he'd said 'additional'. What the hell other tracking system did he have?

“Maybe that's why it hurts. Because there are so many more people around now then would have been in the vicinity in primitive times. Sort of polluting the ether when my senses go hunting for you, know what I mean?” He had warmed to the subject quickly. “And that's why it all stopped as soon as you came physically close to me. I didn't have to hunt anymore, so the enhanced sense shut down.”

That had been only the beginning. He'd then clued me in to the 'other' little 'tracking system he'd discovered while we'd been on the mountain. Apparently a sort of psychic tether existed between us that he had found, and used, to get me out of a deep zone. He took great satisfaction in rubbing in that the time I'd gone ballistic and accused him of using his new healing gift, he had in fact been using this weird connection. And he was positive that this link was Sentinel to Guide, not Sentinel to Shaman. Like that made me any more comfortable with it all.

It was almost the last straw when he further admitted that in the last year or so he'd found that he was mildly addicted… to me? Talk about nerve wracking. I'd been shocked when he'd shyly informed me that he had started noticing a while ago that when I'd gone away for conferences or whatever, distracting headaches would begin within a day or two, getting steadily worse until my return.

Though I had to fight to get it out, his confession forced me to quit denying that I was in the same boat. I had noticed a long time ago that when Blair was so busy with his University responsibilities that I didn't see him for days at a time, I found myself edgy and even more aggressive than usual. I had convinced myself that it was just that when he wasn't around I had to do my own paperwork, and handle touchy feely interviews with victims like kids and old ladies myself.

But I knew it was more than that. When he'd gone on a weeklong Anthropology seminar to Oregon I'd found myself with my senses totally out of whack in a matter of two or three days, and my own headaches could have been measured on the Rictor scale.

The fact that I'd once been reduced to dragging his pillow to bed one night so his scent could let me dial down my spiking senses enough to get some sleep, should have been a clue, if I had been willing to see what it implied. Even admitting it to him during these intense discussions had been tough, hell; I'd rather have pulled my own fingernails out. I just didn't do needy well. But I had made a promise to not lie about these emotional revelations, and so far I was managing… sort of.

I haven't quite reconciled to all of the changes yet. But I guess I've changed more than I thought because I'm thinking about all this stuff and not flat out refusing to believe it, or lashing out and hitting something. But I am no way comfortable with any of it. The fact is most of this stuff seems pretty damn hazardous to Blair, and I would have loved to toss it all out the window. But he wasn't seeing it that way. So I guess I'll just have to watch his butt even more than usual.

“Chief, you said the water was fine.” I murmured softly, remembering too well my fear based response when Blair had made that offer after his return from the dead. Now as he walked slowly away from the sad little gravesite I felt his presence, faint but clear, in my mind. “Hope the invitations still open, cause this time, I'm coming in.”

As he walked up to the side of the vehicle, I looked into deep blue eyes that held unshed tears, and an emotion I couldn't quite figure out. But then through the faint link I felt it, wonder, even awe. He came to a stop just in front of me as I shifted out to come to my feet. When he tilted his face up to look at me, I didn't hesitate to pull him into a firm hug. It felt right, natural,

“Blair?” I couldn't quite fathom his reaction. He'd been sad by the fate of the other Sentinel/Guide pair, but that wasn't what I felt echoing through the link?

“Thank you.” His voice was a whisper of sound as he pressed his face against my chest, but it was charged with intensity.

“For what exactly?” I whispered gently back into his dark curls.

“For surviving, for being you, for finding me.” He tightened his arms around my back, almost possessively.

“Finding you? Got that a little backwards, don't you Chief? I kind of remember it the other way around, 'Dr. McCoy.”

He snickered, “That's McKay, remember. The Gaelic pronunciation.”

I laughed at the memory as he moved back from me and his face became solemn. “I look at them Jim, and I think…how damn lucky I am. I have everything I ever dreamed, and it scares me a little, to think how many ways I could have missed out on meeting you. I would have spent the rest of my life watching from outside, alone…” He was shivering, and I knew it had little to do with the cold.

I pulled him back into a hug, needing not only to comfort him, but myself. The image he had invoked, of my never having met him, had touched a deep cord of panic in me. After a moment he relaxed against me. I felt a mellow warmth thrum softly from him through the link .

“Jim.” He murmured contentedly, “Let's go home.”

“Anything you want Chief.” I affirmed, not letting him go.

“Anything? So… I get to drive!” He said as he squirmed away, a huge smile beaming from his face. He lifted a hand to display the Jeep keys he'd pulled from my pocket.

“Not a chance!” I bellowed, snatching at the dangling treasure. He bounced away easily, but as soon as I moved to start to hobble after him he'd smiled again and simply pitched the keys toward me.

“Think fast big guy.”

I caught them smoothly and sat back on the drivers seat as he moved around to the passenger's side.

He climbed in, leaned back, throwing his booted feet up on the open dashboard.

“Home James, and don't spare the horses.” He mimicked a perfect snooty aristocratic accent.

“You got it Chief!” I responded smartly. Inside me I heard the feral Sentinel yowl happily. I knew that part of me was celebrating that I was bringing my Guide back to my territory. But I knew something else; though Cascade and the loft were definitely my territory, they weren't really my home. I'd been in both for years and never known home.

What made home was beside me, all five foot seven of him.

After all… home is where the heart is.

End

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(Beloved and gentle