
Disclaimer: The characters depicted within this story do not belong to us, but are the property of Pet Fly, UPN, Paramount and The SciFi Channel. No money has been made from the writing of this story.
Note from the Authors: In our Sentinel universe, the events depicted in "The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg" did not occur. Therefore, any "canonical" references that may be found in this story are related to episodes up to and including "Most Wanted."
Dedication: This series is dedicated to friendship, for only through caring for others can we truly find a sense of peace and belonging.
Pilgrimage, Part II: Ascent into Light
Part Eleven of "The Progressions" Series
by Beth Manz and Shiloh
Jim Ellison finished thumbing through the in-flight magazine then pushed it back into the pocket of the seat in front of him. He exhaled a long, rather petulant sigh. He was tired and bored, he was hungry, and worst of all--he was horribly cramped within the limited space allotted to coach-fare flyers. He swept the cabin of the plane with a disinterested glance, wished absently that he were somewhere else, then turned his attention to the man seated at his right.
One look at his sleeping partner and Jim's rather insignificant problems fell away. Any discomforts or inconveniences he was experiencing were, after all, on Blair's behalf and therefore more than worth it.
Sandburg was tucked neatly between Jim and the airplane window. The young man sat curled in Jim's direction, his head resting on a small pillow, his mouth slightly open. To the casual observer he appeared serene, at peace. But Jim knew the horrible truth--it had been just a week ago to the day that Blair had identified the men who had murdered three Rainier students and had almost killed Blair as well.
Ellison frowned as he thought back to the incident and the harrowing days following. The detective had hoped that, after identifying the men in a series of police lineups, some of Blair's equilibrium and exuberance for life would return. But that hadn't been the case. If anything, the young man had become increasingly withdrawn and morose.
Jim was certain that Blair's problems were centered in more than just the death of the three students. It was as though the young man were having a crisis of faith.... Something had happened on the side of that mountain during the two days and nights Sandburg had lain helpless in the rain and cold. Something so traumatic that Blair was unable--or unwilling--to deal with it. He'd been shutting down emotionally, dying piece by piece before Jim's eyes.
So it had been Jim's idea to get out of Cascade--to let Eli work out the details at the university and Simon at the station. He needed to get his guide away for a while, needed to put them both in a place where they could be alone and rely only on one another without distraction. And it was Jim's hope that during their "down time," Blair would open up to him, would finally let him help him in some way.
Sandburg shifted slightly and a soft sigh escaped his lips. The small movement caused a few strands of hair to fall across his cheek, and Jim reached over and carefully tucked the wayward locks behind Blair's ear. He studied his friend. His skin was too pale, the half moon-shaped circles beneath his eyes were too dark, and there were fine lines of worry and exhaustion etched in his forehead. But worst of all, just beneath the skin there remained tiny red splotches around the young man's eyes and mouth--a silent reminder of the duct tape that had rendered Blair blind and speechless during his ordeal on the mountain.
A fresh wave of anger coursed through the detective at the thought of what his partner had endured. But he pushed it aside, determined to make the best of this trip. Absently, he picked at a stray thread in the blue and gray patterned upholstery material of the seat in front of him as his thoughts turned to the week ahead--a week during which Jim hoped to again broach the subject of the wolf....
He hadn't told Sandburg yet that he'd spoken to Eli the week before, that the chancellor was putting together some documentation on shamanism. He'd been hesitant to bring up the subject of his conversation with Dr. Stoddard because he knew Blair's reaction would be one of anger, denial, a further shutting down. His partner was scared of something--something to do with his animal guide.
Checking on Blair once more, satisfied that he was sleeping soundly enough that Jim's moving wouldn't disturb him, Ellison unbuckled his seat belt and levered his cramped body into an upright position. Apologizing softly to the man in the end seat, he stepped out into the aisle and made his way to the back of the plane where the rest rooms were located.
Even before Blair opened his eyes, he knew Jim was no longer beside him. Blinking slowly, he opened tired eyes and looked at the vacant seat beside him. He wasn't disturbed by Jim's absence, knew he was probably in one of the rest rooms, yet he found himself wishing for his partner's return.
Turning in his seat, he looked out the window at the unbroken cloud cover over which the plane was flying. The ground, several thousand feet below, wasn't visible through the clouds, but a clear blue sky stretched out above the cover for as far as the eye could see.
Blair stared out at the distant horizon for several long seconds, hoping to stay awake, but it wasn't long before the unmistakable pull of sleep beckoned him back into its folds. He fought the weariness with only half-hearted resolve. Sleep had evaded him most nights since he'd come home from the hospital, so he welcomed the respite, gave himself up to it.
His eyes had just slipped closed when he felt a slight brushing movement against his lower left arm. He opened his eyes, expecting to find that Jim had returned, but the seat beside him was still empty. Again, he closed his eyes...and again there was a slight brushing against his arm, like a small insect had landed on his skin. Reflexively, without bothering to open his eyes this time, Blair shook his arm. But the movement was suddenly curtailed by the sensation of his forearm being caught in a painfully tight grasp. His eyes flew open and he looked down at the hand that was now clutching his arm, then up into the face of....
"Incacha!"
It can't be! Blair blinked several times, shook his head slightly to clear away the vision. But Incacha didn't disappear. The Chopec warrior sat beside him, silently enigmatic. Sandburg stared into Incacha's intense brown eyes for a few seconds, then tore his gaze away and quickly looked around to see if anyone else on the plane had noticed the man in tribal dress who had taken Jim's seat. But his fellow passengers were reading, sleeping, or chatting quietly among themselves. No one seemed to have noticed anything unusual. Not even the man in the aisle seat looked over.
Again, Blair blinked, expecting Incacha to disappear when he focused back on Jim's seat. But the Chopec warrior remained, his hand still firmly encircling Blair's lower arm. A hard fist of fear gripped the young man's stomach. Jim's former shaman had never appeared to him before, and though he had at times envied Jim's "visitations" from Incacha and the spirit world, now that the dead Chopec was seated next to him in the airplane, he regretted ever having felt envious.
"Incacha," Blair spoke the name more softly this time, but despite his lowered tone, he could still hear panic in his own voice. "What are you doing here?"
The Chopec's gaze bore into Blair. "You have lost your way, young shaman," he answered cryptically. "You must find it for yourself...and for your sentinel."
"What? I don't understand...."
"You must find your way...." Releasing his arm, Incacha reached up and placed his hand against Blair's forehead. Slowly, the Chopec warrior ran his fingers down across Blair's eyes, forcing them gently closed....
Blair jerked upright in his seat, his eyes snapping open. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. His breath came in sharp, quick gasps. He looked to his left.
"Chief?" Jim asked him, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong? You all right?"
"Jim...." The detective sat in the seat Incacha had occupied only moments before. A bemused look replaced Jim's earlier expression of concern.
"Yeah, it's me," Jim chuckled. "You were expecting someone else?"
Blair shook his head, reached out and touched lightly at Jim's arm, happy to feel warm, solid skin beneath his fingers. All was as it should be. "You were gone...."
Again, Jim chuckled. "Yeah, I had to use the men's room. That okay with you?"
Blair stared at his partner in bewilderment. In his mind, Incacha's presence was still all too real. He half expected to blink his eyes and again find the shaman sitting next to him, dressed in full ceremonial garb and spouting obscure directives about finding one's way.... "Hmmm?" Blair intoned at last, realizing belatedly that Jim had asked him a question. "Oh, oh, yeah. Of course it's okay...."
"Blair," Jim continued, sitting up straighter and leaning close to his guide. The sentinel's voice was worried now, and he kept his tone low as he studied Blair. "You're white as a sheet. What's going on? Are you feeling all right?"
Blair grimaced and leaned forward to look around Jim, to study the passengers seated near the two men. "I don't know, man," he whispered to Jim as he settled himself back against his seat. "I just had the strangest...dream. It was unbelievably real."
"You want to talk about it?"
Blair bit at his lip, unsure of whether he wanted to share this particular dream with his partner, knowing it would only invite questions. But Jim was studying him, his gaze intent, determined, and Blair seriously doubted Jim would allow him to easily drop the subject now. The sentinel had been over-protective ever since Blair had come home from the hospital. At the loft, it was possible to evade the older man, retreat to his room if Jim's questions or solicitous attitude threatened to come too close to what was bothering him. But here...well, there wasn't really any place he could go to escape Jim...or his concern. "It was about Incacha," he answered after several long seconds.
"Incacha?"
"Yeah, man, and it was more real than any dream I've ever had before." Blair could hear his own voice increasing in pace and volume. He took a moment to calm himself; the last thing he needed was to draw unwanted attention from nearby passengers. He leaned in close to Jim and whispered fiercely, "He was sitting right there where you are now. He grabbed my arm just like he did that day in the loft. It was freaky."
As he talked, Blair rubbed absently at the spot where Incacha had held him in his dream. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing until he caught Jim's gaze traveling downward to his arm. Then--suddenly--Jim sat up even straighter and his eyes went wide with surprise.
"What are those marks?" Ellison demanded.
"What? What marks?"
"Let me see your arm!" Jim reached over and pulled Blair's left arm toward him. Carefully pushing up the loose shirtsleeve, he ran his fingers gently across the skin above Blair's wrist. Blair followed his friend's gaze, watched in horror as Jim traced a series of small bruises that discolored his arm--bruises that could have only been made by the strong fingers of a man's hand.
Jim looked over at Sandburg and fought against the urge to try to question his partner again. Blair sat with his face turned toward the window, effectively shutting the sentinel out. Jim clenched his jaw and forced back a frustrated groan. Once Sandburg had seen the marks on his arm, his already pale skin had turned even more pallid and he had refused to answer any of Jim's questions. All Jim knew was what little the kid had told him before he'd discovered the bruises--he'd had a dream about Incacha and the shaman had grabbed him.
Jim's eyes wandered down to Blair's arm again, to the sleeve that had been meticulously pulled down and positioned to hide the darkening bruises. No dream Jim had ever experienced or heard of had ever left physical marks on the dreamer. This was much more than a dream. But exactly what was it? Something was going on--something regarding Sandburg and that strange spirit world Jim had encountered on occasion since his sentinel senses had come back on-line. And he wouldn't rest until he knew just exactly what that something was....
Jim's worry was instantly forgotten as a violent shudder coursed through the length of the large aircraft. Passengers gasped at the unexpected tremor, then began conversing softly with one another, speculating on what could have caused the disturbance. The plane continued to vibrate, though not as roughly, and Jim extended his hearing to take in the noise of the engines.
"Jim?" Blair questioned from beside him. "What's wrong? It's just a little turbulence, right? We're not--"
Jim held up his hand to halt Blair's words and concentrated more fully on the engines, listening until he could pick out the distinctive sounds of each one--could distinguish one from the other. After a few seconds, he sat back in his seat and leaned toward Blair. "That was no turbulence, Chief," he explained softly.
"What was it?"
Jim reached over and lay his hand softly against Blair's arm. "I don't want anyone else getting upset, so I want you to try and stay calm when I say this, but...we've lost an engine."
"What?" Blair hissed out. "Oh, man!"
"Calm, Chief," Jim reminded him, patting lightly at his arm. "Stay calm."
"So, how bad is it when a plane loses an engine, Jim? I mean, we have three others, right?"
"That's right." Jim cocked his head and Blair fell silent, more than used to the characteristic posture that indicated that Jim was listening to something only he could hear....
"What is it?" Blair asked after several seconds. "What do you hear?"
"The pilot is asking for a vector to the nearest runway." He looked over at Blair, gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "They're looking for a place to land, Chief. Looks like we may be setting down sooner than expected."
"Oh, man." Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his glasses and put them on. Then he leaned forward and pulled the emergency landing information card from the seat back and began scanning it. "I can't believe this," he grumbled. "We're going down. I just know we're going down."
Jim watched his guide, wishing he could offer words of encouragement. But he'd heard what the pilot and navigator had been discussing in the cockpit. The problem was far worse than just the loss of an engine. The captain had said something about an electrical malfunction.... Bottom line--they were going down.
Blair glanced up from the card he was reading and visually checked the aisles. "Where are the emergency exits?" he asked Jim as he glanced around the interior of the cabin.
Before Jim could answer, there was a slight crackling sound, then the pilot's voice came across the intercom system: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Wilder. I'm not going to lie to you. We're in some trouble here and we need to land as soon as possible. It's a certainty that that our landing will be a rough one. However, in spite of our circumstances, I need everyone to remain calm and to listen to the directions of your flight crew. We've spotted a place where we believe we can take the plane down, and rescue and medical personnel are on their way.
"Once down, we'll need to evacuate the plane. Ladies and gentlemen, I can't emphasize enough how important it is that you remain calm and allow our crew to do their jobs. We're trained for these circumstances and I assure you that if you'll follow the crew's instructions, this landing can be effected with a minimal amount of danger or injury. Thank you."
With that the intercom crackled again, then went dead. The unnatural quiet that followed was nearly palpable in the cramped cabin. Passengers sat in stunned silence then one by one began talking, asking questions, sharing concerns, demanding more information.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" the lead attendant's voice cut through the confusion. "I need all of you to make sure your trays are up and locked and that your seats are in an upright position. Once that's done, I need you to put away anything you might have out--magazines, books, laptop computers. Also, please remove eyeglasses and any jewelry you're wearing."
Jim watched as Blair stuffed the information card into the seat back before pulling his backpack out from under the seat. Settling it in his lap, he withdrew the two earrings from his left ear and dropped them into a zippered pouch on the side of the bag. "I'm sure they're just taking the necessary precautions," he muttered as he untied the cord at his neck and dropped the amulet he always wore into the pouch along with the earrings.
"I'm sure you're right, Chief," Jim assured him, unable to miss the slight trembling in the younger man's hands.
"Yeah, I know I'm right." He held out a hand to Jim. "I need your watch."
"What?"
"Your watch," Sandburg repeated, nodding his head toward Jim's left wrist. "I'll put it in my pack with my stuff."
"Oh, right," Jim said distractedly. Quickly, he unfastened the watchband. As he passed the timepiece to his partner, the plane lurched again.
Blair clutched his pack as it threatened to topple from atop his legs. "I wish it would stop doing that," he muttered through clenched teeth, his features etched in strain.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the attendant announced from the front of the cabin, unable to disguise the slight trembling in her voice. "We need to move a bit faster." Her worried gaze skimmed over the passengers. "Please make sure your seat belts are secured firmly across your laps, then lean forward, lock your arms around your knees, and place your face against your legs."
There were murmurs of disbelief and even anger throughout the cabin as the passengers obeyed the instructions of the attendant. But Jim tuned them out and concentrated only on his partner.
Blair was zipping his pack closed, preparing to slip it back under his seat when Jim realized the kid had forgotten to take off his glasses. Just as Blair leaned down with the pack, ready to stuff it back into place, Jim placed a gentle hand against his partner's shoulder. "Your glasses," he whispered close to his ear.
Blair looked up at him, his eyes wide behind the wire rims. "What?" he asked, obviously not understanding what he was being told.
"You need to take off your glasses."
Hands shaking, Blair reached up and pulled the eyeglasses from his face. "Thanks, man," he muttered as he shoved them into their case, shaking his head in disbelief. "I...I forgot I put them on."
"It's okay, buddy."
Jim made sure Blair was in the proper crash position before leaning forward himself. Glancing sideways at his partner, he offered an apologetic smile. "All I wanted to do was take you on a quiet, relaxing vacation."
Blair stared at him, then slowly some of the fear left his eyes and he even managed a small grin. "Quiet? Relaxing? Us?"
Jim laughed at the undeniable truth beneath Blair's teasing words. Then--not caring that he was probably breaking several FAA rules--he reached over, slipped his right arm across Blair's back and shoulders, and pulled his friend close.
Blair leaned into him. "Oh, man, Jim," he whispered intensely, "I can't believe we're actually going to crash!"
"I know." It didn't take sentinel hearing to pick up on the fear in Sandburg's voice. But his friend wasn't panicking and Jim felt a surge of pride toward him.
Shutting out the increasing sounds of engine roar and the agitated voices of the other passengers, Jim focused his hearing on the one beacon that never failed to calm him--Blair's heartbeat. He picked up on it easily; it was elevated, of course, but still served to calm the sentinel, to keep him in control. He closed his eyes and listened to that heartbeat--hoped this wasn't going to be the last few minutes the two men would have together--hoped to hear that heartbeat for years and years to come....
"This is going to kill Naomi," Blair said softly, drawing Jim's attention away from his own morbid thoughts.
"Shhhhh. Don't talk like that," Ellison assured him. "We're going to be fine."
Blair shook his head and huffed out another small laugh. "Think you could send a little of that optimism my way?"
Jim's answer was lost in a sudden roar of engines. The plane lurched violently then dropped. Around him, screams permeated the air, but the only sound he cared about was the small gasp that escaped Blair's lips. He tightened his hold on his friend and pulled him closer.
"Jim," Blair whispered once the aircraft had evened out again. "I feel like there's so much I need to say to you...."
"No," Jim breathed, knowing where this was going. He squeezed Blair's shoulders tightly. "You don't have to say anything, Chief."
"But there are things I want you to know...."
"Anything you could tell me, I already know." Jim raised his body away from his legs a bit and tapped at his heart with his fingers. "In here." He smiled at his partner.
Blair looked into his eyes, then returned Jim's smile and leaned closer. "Thanks, man. I feel the same way."
"I know you do."
"Jim?"
"Yeah?"
"Whatever happens.... Do you think that...that we'll be together?"
Jim looked steadily into Blair's eyes. "I'm sure of it."
He felt Blair relax slightly beneath his arm. "Then I'm not so scared anymore."
"Me either," Jim agreed, giving him another squeeze.
Again, the plane lurched and dropped for what seemed to be an eternity before it evened out. Both men knew there wouldn't be many more drops like that before they reached the ground.
"Well, man, looks like this is it."
Jim extended his left hand over to Blair. "Here. Give me your hand, Chief."
Without hesitation, Blair slipped his hand into Jim's and held on tight.
Jim curled his fingers around Blair's. "Just hang onto me, buddy. We're going to be all right."
He shifted in his seat, moving to cover Blair with as much of his body as he could given the confines of the seat and the belt across his lap. He rested his cheek against Blair's head and squeezed more tightly to the hand he held within his own. Then he braced himself for the inevitable.
"Jim? Come on, Jim. Wake up."
The familiar voice pulled at him, drawing him away from the dark void in which he was lost, leading him back to awareness.
"Just open your eyes, man. Open your eyes and let me know you're okay."
The voice came again and this time the edge of worry and fear in it sent a chill through him. What's happened? Struggling to do as he was asked, he dragged his eyes open, blinking against the harsh light that threatened to blind him.
A shadow fell across him as a figure moved to block the light.
"That's it, Jim. You're almost there."
And as Jim blinked his eyes, focusing on the man above him, recognition flooded through him. "Blair?"
"Yeah, man, it's me. I've been trying to wake you up for about ten minutes now. You scared me to death." Gripping his arm, he helped the sentinel into an upright position. "Just take it slow," he coaxed.
Jim nodded, still having a hard time piecing together what exactly had happened. He glanced around the small clearing they were in, at the lush greenery of the forest that pressed in all around them, but had no idea how they had gotten here. As he rose slowly to his feet, Blair still keeping a tight grip on his arm, his mind suddenly flashed back to the last thing he remembered. A plane. We were on a plane...crashing...
"Are you all right?" Jim blurted out, his gaze darting to his partner, moving over him, searching for injury.
"I'm fine," Blair said. "We're both fine. Well, I think we are, at least."
Jim's brow creased in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?" But even as the words left him, he realized he couldn't see any other survivors from the accident. "Where is everyone? The other passengers? The crew?"
"Um.... That's not all that's missing, Jim."
And as Jim did a slow turn, he realized.... "There's no plane. No wreckage."
"You noticed that too, huh?" Blair ran a shaky hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. "It's like we were plucked off that plane and just left here," he finished softly.
Jim nodded, sweeping his gaze over the area again. Extending his vision, he searched once more for any sign of wreckage or victims from the crash. He then cocked his head to the side and listened, but no unusual sounds reached him. He used his sense of smell next, expecting to encounter the odor of burning fuselage or gasoline. Again, he found nothing.
"Where are we, man?" Blair muttered.
"I'm not sure but...there's something about this place...." Something...familiar.
Sudden understanding flashed through the sentinel. Instantly he recognized the place, knew exactly where they were.
He looked down at his partner. Blair stood before him, his wide eyes studying the landscape around them. Jim could see the minute shaking in his hands, the worry on his face.
"Blair," he said finally, taking a step closer to the younger man. "I know where we are. I've been here before in the last few years--twice before. But I was alone then."
"I don't know what you mean."
"You encouraged me to come here. To accept who I am."
Sandburg's eyes grew suddenly larger. "Oh, no," he said, taking a step back from Jim. "You're wrong. I can't be here with you. I can't!"
"I'm not wrong, Chief." Jim reached out and gripped Blair's upper arms, holding tightly, preventing further retreat. "I know this place--the way it sounds, the way it smells, the way it feels. This is where I came when I went on my spiritual walks as a sentinel. Where I had to decide whether I wanted to be a sentinel or not."
Blair was shaking his head adamantly, his body rigid. "I shouldn't be here. I---"
The words died in his throat as a deep growl reached them. Both men jerked toward the sound. There--just a few feet from where they now stood--sat the panther Jim had become so familiar with since the return of his sentinel abilities. His gaze moved appreciatively over the strong animal with its slick black coat and intelligent eyes.
But as his gaze locked on the animal that lay at the panther's feet, Jim's heart lurched in his chest. It was the wolf--the wolf he'd seen in his visions before. The wolf that represented Sandburg's spirit guide. The normally virile animal lay on its side, its breathing harsh and labored, the half-closed eyes staring out at nothing. And as Jim watched, the panther leaned down and nuzzled gently at the wolf's neck. A low whine emitted from the sick animal, but it did not stir further.
Blair took a tentative step toward the fallen wolf. "What's wrong with it?"
"He is dying."
Jim spun toward the familiar voice. Incacha stood just beyond the trees, wearing the tribal dress and paint of the Chopec tribe. The shaman stepped out of the underbrush and walked slowly toward Jim.
"Hello, Enquiri. You look well, my old friend."
Jim smiled in greeting. "You left me in good hands." But as he reached out to place a hand on Blair's shoulder, he realized his guide was no longer beside him. In those few moments when Jim had turned away, Blair had moved to kneel beside the wolf. The younger man was leaning over the animal, his hands running through the thick fur. Why didn't I hear him move? Why wasn't I aware of it?
He shook away the disturbing thoughts and gave his full attention to the scene before him. The panther sat beside Blair, its protective gaze locked on the figure of man and beast. And in that moment, Jim knew his guide had never been better protected. Yet the assurance of Blair's safety was coupled with a strong urge to take Blair away from this place, back to the loft where everything was safe, familiar.
"He is dying," Incacha said again, but as Jim turned to look at the shaman, he realized the Chopec's gaze was locked on Blair, not the wolf.
"No," Jim argued against what Incacha was implying, his tone adamant. "Blair's fine. He's not---"
"He has denied a part of who he is." Incacha's gaze shifted up to Jim. "Just as you denied it in the past."
Shame washed through Jim. "I thought I was protecting him."
"You can protect him, Enquiri, but you cannot decide for him." He stepped closer to Jim. "Your doubts have become his. Now that part of him--the part he denies--is dying...just as the wolf is dying."
"How can I stop it?"
Jim turned. Blair stood beside him again, his determined gaze locked on Incacha. If the anthropologist harbored any fear or surprise at seeing the dead Chopec again, it wasn't evident in his tone or his demeanor.
"You have lost your way, young shaman," Incacha answered Blair's question. "Both you and your sentinel suffer because of it. You must find your way again. You must decide."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Blair demanded, his hands held out beseechingly. "Find my way to what? Decide what?"
Incacha smiled at the younger man, seemingly undisturbed by his outburst. "You must find your way. You must decide...."
And in less time than it took Jim to blink his eyes, Incacha and the spirit animals were gone.
"Great! This is just great!" Blair paced in front of Jim, gesturing wildly. "'You must find your way,'" he mimicked Incacha. "'You must decide.'" He shook his head. "You know, that's just about as helpful as his passing on the way of the shaman to me before he died. Thanks for nothing!" he shouted.
"You're angry, Blair."
Sandburg spun toward Jim. "You're damn right I'm angry! And don't tell me to calm down, because I think I have a right to be angry about this."
"No, you don't understand," Jim said, shaking his head, a bewildered expression lining his features. "When you get angry, your heart beats harder, faster. It's a noticeable difference, Chief, at least to me. It always hits me like a brick wall. But this time...right now...." His worried gaze locked on Blair. "This time, I can't hear it at all."
Blair closed the small gap between them as the strain in Jim's voice became obvious to him. "It's okay, man. It's probably just this place." Reaching out, he placed a gentle hand on his partner's arm. "It's messing with your senses, that's all. You just---"
"No!" Jim blurted out, taking a step away from him. "I can hear water running in a stream a half mile west of here. I can hear a bird building its nest a quarter mile to the east. But I can't hear your heart beating and you're standing right in front of me!"
"Relax, man," Blair soothed, moving to close the distance between them again. "My heart's beating just fine. I can guarantee that."
"Then why can't I hear it?" Jim demanded.
Reaching down and grasping Jim's hand, Blair brought it upward and placed it against his chest, palm flat over his heart. "Can you feel that?"
Jim closed his eyes and a deep breath escaped him. "Yes," he whispered, the lines in his forehead lessening, his body visibly relaxing. He opened his eyes and looked down at Sandburg. "I can feel it, Chief."
"See? I told you it was beating." Blair grinned up at Jim. "Next time maybe you'll trust me on that."
"It still doesn't explain why I can't hear it," Jim said, making no move to withdraw his hand from his guide's chest.
"Yeah, well, I'm sure it has something to do with this whole 'finding my way' thing." He let out a frustrated breath, realizing he wasn't really sure about anything right now.
Jim nodded, finally moving his hand, shifting it away from Blair's chest and up to his shoulder. "So, what do you want to do about that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Come on, Chief, I think it's pretty obvious that whatever we're going to do next has to be your call. So...what's it going to be?"
Blair glanced around the clearing they were in. "I don't think I have much choice here. I guess...I guess I have to 'find my way.'" He turned to face a range of low mountains visible in the west. "That direction," he said finally, turning to look up at Jim again. "We need to go in that direction."
Jim glanced over his guide's shoulder, narrowing his eyes slightly, and Blair knew he was searching ahead, extending his vision as far as his sentinel abilities would allow. "What's that way?" he asked after several moments, focusing his attention on his guide again.
"I don't know," Blair answered honestly. "But whatever it is I'm supposed to find, it's in that direction."
Jim nodded. "Okay, Chief. Lead the way."
They had been walking for hours, Blair in front, Jim two steps behind. The sentinel couldn't see any distinguishable trail through the deep forest, wasn't sure if they were traveling in the right direction or not, didn't know for sure if there even was a direction in which they needed to be going. But it was obvious his guide did. Blair moved with a purpose and confidence that couldn't be denied.
As Jim shoved a branch aside, he caught sight of the panther. The regal animal was moving stealthily through the trees just to the right of Jim and Blair. The sentinel had seen the animal more than once throughout the day, always out of the corner of his eye or just as it was disappearing behind a tree or beneath a bush. It shadowed the two men with ease, its pace matching their own.
But he had yet to see the wolf.
He had heard it though--several times. The low, plaintive howl had echoed all around them, and each time it sounded, Blair's gait would slow slightly, his steps becoming uncertain. He recovered rapidly though, and his stride always took on its former confidence without too much of a delay. But the affect that the sound--that the wolf itself--had on his guide was unmistakable.
And Jim knew his unease was not just because of their current situation. It ran much deeper....
"Blair, are you ready to tell me what really happened on that mountainside?" he blurted out before he could change his mind.
Blair froze mid-step, his back stiffening. He recovered smoothly, glancing coolly, briefly back at Jim before starting forward again. "What do you mean?" he asked, a forced casualness underlying the words.
"Come on, Chief," Jim persisted. "I know something happened out there, something I can only guess has to do with the wolf."
Blair stopped again, but didn't look back at Jim this time. He simply stood silently before him, his gaze locked forward.
The sentinel reached out and placed a hand on his guide's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I think the time for secrets between us has passed, don't you?"
Keeping his back to Jim, Blair dropped his chin to his chest. His hand came up to rub at his eyes. "I wasn't alone on that mountainside," he admitted finally. "The wolf...." But his words trailed off as he shook his head.
"What, Chief? What about the wolf?"
Slowly, Blair turned and looked up at Jim. His eyes were dark with uncertainty. "Jim, I'm not sure, but I think the wolf the Kellers heard was there with me during most of my time on that mountain, keeping me warm. I think...I think he's the reason I'm still alive."
"That would explain a lot, Chief."
"Yeah." Blair nodded, looking beyond Jim for a long moment. "But there's a big part of me that wants to believe that that wolf was just an ordinary wolf." He returned his gaze to Jim, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. "But I know it wasn't. The wolf that was with me on the mountain is the same one we both saw at the fountain. The same one that's here with us now. I can feel it, Jim, deep inside."
Jim's brow creased as he looked down at Blair, because beneath the uncertainly, he sensed a sadness in his guide. "Why does that scare you so much?" He lifted one hand away from Blair's shoulder and reached up to gently cup the side of his partner's face. He stared down into Sandburg's confused eyes. "I'm glad you weren't alone on that mountainside, Chief. I'm glad that if I couldn't be there for you, that your spirit guide was."
"Yeah," he breathed. "But Jim...sometimes...sometimes I think I just dreamed the whole thing or that this memory I have is just wishful thinking."
"Wishful thinking?" Jim dropped his hand away from Blair's face. "I don't understand."
"Sometimes I think I'm just trying to give myself some importance in the sentinel universe that I don't really have."
The words were spoken so softly that Jim wouldn't have been able to hear them had he only had normal hearing. But he did hear them, and the words stunned him. He blinked several times, unable to believe that Blair was doubting his role in the sentinel legacy. After all we've been through... "You can't believe that," Jim breathed out at last. "That you have to fabricate your importance to me? To what I am?"
Blair shrugged one shoulder, his gaze cast downward.
"Blair, why do you think we're here?" Jim pressed. "Not for me. We're here for you."
Blair nodded as he lifted his head, bit at his lower lip as it trembled slightly. "Yeah. Maybe so." He straightened his shoulders and looked up at Jim, a glint of anger in his eyes. "But if I'm so important, why was I left on that mountainside for so many days? And if the wolf was really my spirit guide, then why didn't it find you?"
Jim frowned. "I don't understand--"
"At the fountain," Blair cut in, his voice overriding Jim's, "when Alex came after me, the wolf warned you that I needed your help and you were there for me. But this time...." His voice trailed off as a single tear escaped his eye and trailed down his cheek. "You never came, Jim."
"Blair," Jim forced out past the sudden lump in his throat. "I'm sorry. I wish I'd known. I wish I'd been there for you."
"It's okay. I don't blame you, really I don't. I just...I want to understand. I need to know why--if the wolf could help me--why didn't he?"
"But he did help you, Blair. You said it yourself--he kept you alive."
"Maybe so. But it still doesn't make any sense to me. If it warned you once when I was dying, then it should have warned you again." Blair shook his head, wiping at the moisture on his cheek with the back of his hand. "I'm sorry. That sounded...selfish. That's not how I meant it." He looked up at Jim, his eyes wide and imploring. "It's not the fact that I might have died that bothers me as much as the fact that the wolf didn't appear to you. It's like I've lost a connection with you that I never even realized I had." His eyes misted over but he stubbornly blinked the moisture away. "You should have known, Jim. Something kept the wolf from coming to you and I don't know what that something is. And it's making me doubt everything. Everything."
Jim gaped at Blair, unable to believe what he was hearing. He searched for words that would reassure his friend, but nothing came. Instead, he reached out and drew Blair close to him. Wrapping both arms around his now-trembling guide, he whispered, "I don't know what to tell you. All I can hope is that by the time we're finished in this place, you'll have the answers you're looking for." He tightened his arms around Blair. "But Chief," he continued softly, "I need you to know one thing--if the wolf had come to me, I would have come looking for you. I wouldn't have stopped looking until I'd found you. You know that, don't you?"
Blair nodded his head against Jim's shoulder. "I never doubted that, Jim."
Darkness covered the landscape and provided a backdrop for a million glorious pinpricks of light. Jim and Blair lay side by side on the soft bed of pine boughs they had fashioned earlier and looked up at the brilliant stars spread out across the night sky.
"This is incredible. You never see stars like this in the city, man," Blair observed softly.
Jim knew Blair wasn't really expecting or needing an answering comment, so he remained silent and allowed the view of the sky and the soft night sounds of the forest to further relax him. His mind turned over the events of the first "day" of their journey. Time had passed for the two men as it would have during any other day, but Jim had no way of knowing how much time had really passed for them in "reality"--in that corporeal world in which they lived as detective and anthropologist. They'd made steady progress in the direction Blair had chosen and while they had talked from time to time following their discussion of the wolf, most of the remainder of the day had been spent in companionable silence.
"Jim?" Blair's voice, soft as it was, was clear in the night air.
"What is it, Chief?"
"Did I ever tell you that there have been times when I've been sort of...jealous...that you were the only one who had visions? That I've sometimes felt.... I don't know...left out, I guess."
"No, you never told me that." Ellison turned on his side and curled up facing Blair. His partner lay stretched out on his back, his face turned toward the night sky. "So, how about now, Chief?" he teased warmly. "You still feeling jealous?"
Blair's answering chuckle was a welcome balm to Jim's spirit. It seemed like it had been forever since he'd heard Blair laugh. "Um, no, Jim, I'm not."
Jim laughed. "Well, at least Incacha sent us someplace where it's dry and warm."
"That's true," Blair agreed. He turned his head and smiled over at Jim. "But you'd think he could have at least had the foresight to provide us with a couple of decent pillows."
Jim smiled at Blair's caustic remark, but his smile quickly faded as the sound of the wolf reached them. The cry was plaintive, melancholy, and it caused the hairs on Jim's arms and the back of his neck to stand on end. Beside him, Blair shuddered.
"I hate that sound," the young man whispered out.
"I know," Jim soothed as he reached over and touched gently at Blair's arm for a brief moment.
"Jim, what if this isn't really some sort of quest?" Blair asked suddenly, causing Jim to shift his attention away from the condition of the dying wolf and focus on the situation into which he and Blair had been placed. "I mean, what if that plane crashed and we're just...dead? Do you think that's possible?"
Jim gave some thought to Blair's valid question, then shook his head against his arm. "I don't know for sure, but I don't think we're dead. This place is too similar to my previous visions for me to believe that."
"How long do you think we'll be here, then?"
"I think we'll be here until you find your way or make your decision, like Incacha said."
"Great," Blair muttered. "Talk about being in your basic state of 'limbo.'"
"Chief," Jim said softly, studying his partner in the darkness, "why is this so difficult for you? Of the two of us, you've always been the one who's been totally open to the spiritual side of things, especially this sentinel legacy. Why are you finding it so difficult to deal with this journey?"
Blair exhaled a deep sigh then turned over onto his side, facing Jim. "I'm afraid because I think I know what Incacha wants from me."
"You mean you know what decision he wants you to make?"
Blair nodded his head. "Remember how you said you had a vision like this when you had to decide to accept your sentinel abilities? Well, I think I'm being tested to see if I'll accept my role as shaman."
"But Incacha already passed on that role--"
"He may have passed it on to me, but that doesn't mean I've accepted it. To be very honest with you, the idea of my being a shaman--your shaman--well, it scares the hell out of me."
"But why?" Jim argued, needing to understand. "Why is it so hard for you to accept this facet of yourself? Of that role in our relationship? I thought you were happy with me...with what we have together."
Blair reached over and lay his hand against Jim's arm. "I am happy. Happier than I've ever been. But being your guide and being your shaman...those are two very different things, man."
"So, what are you saying?" Jim asked, injecting a bit of light-hearted banter into his tone. "Are you afraid that if you accept your role as shaman you're going to have to go live on a mountain top and spout words of wisdom to us common folk?"
"Actually, that's part of the problem, Jim," Blair answered softly, ignoring Jim's gentle teasing. "I don't have any idea of what it means to be a shaman. What will I have to do? Will it change me? And if it does, will I like those changes?" He sighed deeply. "I guess the question I have is, 'What does becoming a shaman entail exactly'?"
"Maybe there's only one way to find out."
Blair huffed out a small snort of humorless laughter. "Only one problem with that--what if I take that step and find I'm not qualified or that I'm not happy with the results? Then what?"
Jim shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't know anything about being a sentinel, about what accepting the spiritual side of it meant. But you encouraged me to embrace who I was, every part of it. And I have to say it's worked out great."
Blair chuckled at that. "Yeah? Well, it was easier for me to say 'go for it, man,' when it was you."
Jim smiled briefly, but as his guide's words settled over him, he couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't more to it than that. Blair was innately and single-mindedly curious about everything.... Everything except this.
"Your doubts have become his."
As Incacha's words replayed through his mind, Jim thought back on the times they'd come face to face with the spiritual aspect of their relationship. Each time, Jim had denied it.
How can I change that now?
Before he could even come close to finding an answer, Blair shifted onto his back again. The younger man stared up at the stars for several long moments, then turned and looked over at Jim.
"Are you able to hear my heartbeat yet?" he asked softly.
Jim knew the answer even before he extended his hearing to listen for the familiar sound, but he focused in on his partner just the same. Deep disappointment--a renewed sense of loss--settled over him. "No," he whispered reluctantly, and his voice held all the sadness he was feeling. "I don't understand this at all. Everything is on-line, Chief, including my hearing. So, why can't I hear your heartbeat?" The sentinel scrubbed a hand across his face. "I can't help but feel like your heartbeat has been taken from me."
"Well, maybe we can fix that."
"What? How?"
Blair reached over to him. "Give me your hand."
Jim extended his hand and Blair curled his fingers around it. Gently, he guided Jim's hand over and placed his open palm against his chest. "There. Can you feel it?"
A steady sensation of thrumming beat beneath the sentinel's fingertips and for the first time since they had entered this strange world of spirit guides and vision quests, Jim felt truly at peace. "Yes," he answered softly. "I can feel it."
"Good," Blair whispered. He covered Jim's hand with his own. "See? Nothing's been taken from you."
Jim smiled as Blair yawned. "Why don't you try and get some sleep, Chief," he suggested.
"I'll try." Blair was silent for a few seconds, then he grinned over at Jim. "Hey, you think I'll wake up in my bed at the loft?"
Ellison laughed. "I wouldn't count on it, buddy."
Blair blinked his eyes open but remained still. The morning sun felt warm against his skin and he was in no hurry to move. He had slept well--deeply, dreamlessly--something he hadn't done in some time.
Groaning slightly, he sat up, his body stiff from the long hours spent on the ground. Beside him, Jim didn't stir. Normally the sentinel would awaken with his guide, instantly alerted by the noise. But as Blair watched Jim, the older man's head tucked against his arm, his body curled in on itself, he continued to sleep, totally oblivious to Blair's movements.
He's just tired, Blair told himself as he got slowly to his feet, trying and failing to suppress a large yawn. Stretching his arms over his head, he realized that more than anything he was hungry. He and Jim hadn't eaten yesterday at all, hadn't even thought about food. But now, this morning, a good breakfast was all that occupied his thoughts.
He glanced down at Jim again. His partner lay in the same position, his breathing soft and even. Should he wake him so the two of them could find food together or should he just try and find something himself? Before he could decide, a quick movement caught his eye. He turned to his left and saw the panther sitting just within the tree line, the animal watching him impassively with large, golden eyes.
Blair cocked his head to one side and studied the beast. "I'm hungry," he said finally, not really expecting a reaction. But as soon as he had spoken the words, the sleek animal stood and began moving back through the trees. After only a few steps, it turned and looked back at Blair, as if it were waiting.
Sandburg got the message--he was to follow.
After taking one last look at Jim's sleeping form, he strode to the trees and followed the panther. Minutes later he found himself at the edge of a fast-moving stream...and he knew exactly what he needed to do. Pulling his Swiss army knife from the pocket of his jeans, he hunted around until he found a slender but sturdy tree limb and whittled one end down to a point. Then, taking off his shoes, he waded into the cold, clear water. As he began to fish, he realized the panther was no longer in sight.
"Thanks," he muttered to the elusive animal before turning his attention to the task at hand. Holding the homemade fishing spear at a downward angle, he stood still, waited for the fish to swim by, and then stabbed at them.
"I could carry that fish-sticking thing you brought."
Blair tensed as the conversation he'd had with Jim before leaving with the three students on that fateful trip came back to him.
"That's not a 'fish-sticking thing', Jim. It's a Cree Indian fishing spear. There's supposed to be a great stream near the reservation and I thought maybe I could show the guys how to catch trout in one of the more traditional methods."
"I'm assuming that won't be your only source of food the entire weekend. Or should I say lack of food."
"I've used it before, Jim. I know what I'm doing."
"Sure you do."
Blair made another stab at a fish but missed it completely, only managing to get the sharp limb stuck in the muddy bottom of the stream. Pulling it out, he shook his head and told himself to just concentrate on what he was doing...not to think about that day, about those boys.
But it was already too late for that....
"A real shaman!"
The memory of Pete's awe-filled voice suddenly rang through his mind.
"I've read about them, about the things they're supposed to be able to do... Do you think they really have special powers or is that just a big joke?"
And as the conversation with the three boys replayed itself in Blair's mind, his hand began to shake.
"Pete just wants to see if the guy can give him a love potion so he can get a few dates."
"Hey, sounds like a good idea to me! Maybe I'll change my subject, too!"
Blair closed his eyes as the sound of the boys' laughter echoed within him, laughter that was soon to be silenced by three men with guns.
"Close your eyes, Professor."
Blair's gaze darted to the boys kneeling beside him along the lonely stretch of road, his wrists straining against the tape binding his arms behind his back, keeping him helpless.
What's going to happen to them? To all of us?
But now he knew the answer. In a brief span of time, their lives had been forever lost and his own sense of peace and security had been shattered.
Why did they have to die? Why did I live? And what do I do now? What does Incacha want? What do I want?
A low whine drew his attention. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at the wolf. It lay on the shore, its head resting between its two front paws, its half-open eyes locked on Blair. It was the first time he'd seen the animal since the meeting with Incacha the day before and he couldn't be sure, but Blair thought the animal seemed to be in worse shape today. As if sensing his thoughts, the wolf shivered violently and let out a soft whimper.
The pain in the sound seemed to match the pain that gripped Blair's heart and to echo the grief he'd been unable to release since waking in the hospital. "I'm sorry," he choked out, uncertain exactly who he was apologizing to--the wolf who was ill because of his indecision, the boys who had died while in his care, or his sentinel who was trapped in this world with him.
Seconds later the panther emerged from the covering of the trees and loped over to the wolf. The slick black beast nuzzled the fur around the ears of the sick beast, urging it to its feet. Together, the two animals disappeared into the forest and Blair was once again alone.
Wiping tears from his cheeks that he hadn't even realized he'd shed, Blair turned a determined gaze back to the water all around him. He needed to concentrate on what he could do, not dwell on what couldn't be changed. It took him only minutes to catch three large trout--more than enough food for both himself and Jim.
Fish in hand, Blair headed back to where he'd left his sleeping partner. But as he stepped out of the trees, he was greeted by the last thing he'd expected to see--Jim was on his knees, his body curled forward, his hands pressed over his ears, his face screwed up in pain.
"Jim!" Blair shouted, dropping the fish and rushing to his partner's side. "Jim, what's wrong?" But as he pounded across the hard ground, the sentinel cringed with every move he made, every word he spoke. And suddenly Blair knew what was wrong--Jim's hearing was out of control. Instantly, he dropped his pitch, his tone, his volume, and slowed his steps.
Moving quietly to his partner's side, he lay a gentle hand on his back. The reaction was instantaneous...and totally unexpected. Jim lunged forward, away from the touch, his eyes widening as if in sudden pain. Collapsing on his side, he lay still, his eyes squeezed closed again, his hands still pressed to his ears.
Blair stepped back, raising his hands away from his partner, afraid for a moment to even breathe.
It's not just his hearing...it's his sense of touch, too.
And as the realization of what was happening to Jim sunk in, Blair knew he had to act quickly. His friend was in agony, his body overwhelmed by both sound and feel.
Slowly, carefully, Blair crouched down beside Jim. He reached toward him but stopped, his hand hovering just inches above his partner's trembling shoulder. Leaning down, his lips just above Jim's still-covered ears, he said, "Just breathe," so softly he couldn't even hear the words himself.
The sentinel cringed, his body shuddering in obvious pain, his hands pressing harder against the sides of his head.
"Breathe and find the dials."
Jim shuddered again, but the trembling seemed less pronounced.
"That's it," Blair coaxed, raising his voice just slightly, testing the sentinel's progress. When Jim simply lay still, Blair knew he was regaining control. Tentatively, he reached out and lay a hand against Jim's back. Relief washed through him when Jim didn't pull away or cringe. "You're doing great, man. Just keep breathing." He moved his hand in slow circles over his friend's back, trying to help him relax further.
Within moments, Jim's eyes opened, his hands fell away from his ears, and he blinked up at Blair, who still crouched over him.
"Is that better?" Blair asked.
"Yeah," Jim managed. "Yeah, it's better."
Blair smiled down at him and, gripping his arm, helped him into a sitting position. Jim made a move to get to his feet, but Blair restrained him with gentle hands. "Just take it easy, man. Your body's all stressed right now. You need to just sit here for a while, relax, and let things calm down."
Jim ran a hand over his face and through his hair. "That is definitely not the best way to wake up in the morning." He looked at Blair again. "Thanks."
He shrugged one shoulder. "Just doing my job."
Jim nodded, but the lines of worry around his eyes didn't disappear. Instead, they increased as Jim frowned, his head cocking to the side. "Sandburg?"
Blair moved closer, apprehension tightening his stomach. Something's wrong... "You okay, man? Is your hearing going off-line again? Just grab the dials--"
"No, it's not that," Jim cut in, his voice strained. "My hearing's not out of control. It's normal."
"That's good, Jim. That's what we want."
"No, Blair, it's normal...as in not heightened." Reaching down, Jim grabbed up a handful of dirt and sifted it between his fingers. "And my sense of touch," he said, scooping up another handful, repeating the process. "It's gone, too. I can't feel the different granules in this sand. I can't--" His gaze darted up to Blair. Panic danced behind the blue depths and before Blair knew what was happening, Jim reached out and placed his hand flat against his chest, over his heart. "I can't feel it." His hand moved slightly to the left, searching. "I can't feel it. Sandburg, yesterday I couldn't hear your heart beat and now I can't feel it, either."
"Jim, just calm down," Blair urged. "It's beating."
"Then why can't feel it?" Jim demanded, his tone urgent.
"Because of this place," Blair said, gesturing around him. He was surprised by Jim's reaction. He knew his partner occasionally listened to his heartbeat, used it to gauge his mood, check his health, but he didn't believe there was anything about the sound that was actually necessary to the sentinel. "This place is just messing with your senses. You'll be fine once we get out of here." He lifted Jim's hand from where it still rested against his chest and squeezed it tightly. "Trust me, man. Everything is going to be fine."
Jim nodded, but the haunted uncertainty didn't leave his eyes.
"I caught us some fish," Blair said, hoping to change the subject to something less disturbing. He glanced back at the trout he'd dropped when he first entered the camp. "Why don't we check out your sense of taste, huh?"
Jim sat cross-legged in front of the small fire Sandburg had built and watched his partner pull the cooked fish from the flame. Cocking his head ever so slightly, not wanting his guide to notice the gesture, he tried desperately to hear Blair's heartbeat. But just like every other time he had tried, it just was not there.
He'd told Sandburg once that after years of living and working with him, he could now distinguish the sound of his heartbeat from all others. But he'd never told his partner just how much he listened to that sound. Or how deeply he had come to rely on it to help calm him or reassure him.
If that was now lost to him....
"Here you go, Jim."
He looked up, drawn away from his dark thoughts by the sound of his guide's voice. Blair was holding out a large portion of his morning catch, the tempting filet still wrapped in the large leaves he had used to cook it in. "Smells good, Chief," he said as he accepted the food.
"Hope it is," Blair muttered, settling down with his own portion of the fish.
Jim stared at his meal, his stomach rumbling with need. He hadn't realized just how hungry he was until this moment. "I still can't believe you caught these trout with a spear-thingie, Chief."
"I keep trying to tell you, man--traditional methods aren't to be scoffed at."
"You just may be right about that." Jim pulled off a large portion of the fish and stuffed it into his mouth. "Because this tastes great." Sandburg had gathered up a variety of herbs he'd found in the surrounding area to flavor the fish and as Jim chewed, he used his unaffected taste buds to enjoy every last one of them.
"This really is incredible," he enthused around another mouthful. But as he smiled over at his partner, he realized Blair wasn't eating. Instead, the young man sat staring into the fire, his gaze distant, troubled. It was an expression Jim had seen much too often in the last two weeks. He's thinking about those kids again. And as Jim eased another piece of fish into his mouth, he realized why. Blair had been planning to teach those kids to fish using a Cree spear--a spear much like the one he'd used today--once they'd reached the Indian reservation. But that had never happened.
"Blair," he began, uncertain if this was really the best time to bring the subject up, but unable to sit by and watch his silent pain any longer, "at some point you're going to have to put what happened to those boys behind you. You have to move on with your life."
"I know," Blair whispered, his gaze never leaving the fire.
"You may know it, but you're not doing it."
Blair exhaled a deep, rattling breath. "I keep seeing them, Jim. Seeing them the way they were that day."
Jim's brow creased in confusion. "Seeing the men who attacked you?"
"No," he breathed. "Seeing those three boys." Reaching up, Blair touched the skin around his eyes as if the marks left by the duct tape were still there. "I told you they put the tape on me first." His gaze darted briefly to Jim before returning to the flames. But even that small glimpse into his partner's pain-filled eyes was enough to tear at Jim's heart.
"Before they put the tape on me," he continued, his voice low, nearly inaudible in the stillness of the morning, "I looked at the students one last time. They had made us kneel along the edge of the road, side by side. Andrew was next to me, then Stanley beside him and then Peter at the far end. When I looked at them...they were so afraid." Once again, his gaze darted to Jim. "I think they knew," he said, guilt now adding itself to the pain in his eyes. "I think they knew they were going to die. I could see it on their faces--the fear, the disbelief. And Peter...he was crying, very softly, trying not to, but he was crying and ...and I keep wondering...did they choose to kill him first because of that? Because, somehow it annoyed them?"
Jim stared into the fire, visualizing the scene his partner had just described. To Jim, all he would ever know of that moment was what Blair could tell him, but to his partner the scene was a painful, vivid memory that the young man would carry forever. "Blair, you can't dwell on that moment," he offered.
"I'll always think about that last moment, Jim. That last glimpse I had of those three boys. I just...I can't get away from it."
Jim stared at his partner, at the lost and hopeless expression that had been lurking just behind his eyes since he had first regained consciousness in the hospital. He had to find a way of reaching him.
"Blair," he began softly, "if Stan or Andrew or Peter had lived and you had died, what would you want for them?"
Blair shook his head, rubbing at tired eyes. "I know where you're going with this, man."
"Then answer my question. What would you want for them?"
"I wouldn't want them to dwell on my death," he said simply.
"What else?" Jim pressed.
Blair's eyes narrowed slightly and Jim knew he was actually considering the question, not just trying to come up with something he thought Jim would want to hear. "I would want them to have a good life," he said after a time. "To know that I didn't blame them for what happened, that I was just glad they survived."
"And you think they'd want any less for you?" Jim asked when his guide fell silent again.
Blair shifted his gaze to Jim, seemed to almost study the older man. "I think what they wanted was to live," he said finally. But despite the morose words, the pain darkening his eyes seemed to have diminished a bit.
"Eli told me that he wishes he'd never asked you to take that trip with those boys. He wishes he'd gone himself."
Blair shook his head, his mouth pulling into a deep frown. "How could he say that? Jim, if Dr. Stoddard had been on that trip, he would be dead right now."
Jim reached out and grabbed Blair's chin with his fingers, holding tightly. "He said it because he would give anything to take away this pain and guilt that you're feeling...including taking your place on that trip."
Blair closed his eyes. "I wish now I'd talked to Professor Stoddard before we left," he admitted softly.
Jim dropped his hand away but kept his gaze locked on his partner. When Blair opened his eyes again and looked up at him, Jim shrugged. "Why didn't you?"
"Because I just feel so...ashamed." Blair ran a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. "He put me in charge of those kids. He sent me off with them and...and they didn't come home again. I let him down in the worst possible way."
"What happened was not your fault. You know he doesn't blame you, that he's just worried about you. So why avoid him?"
Blair was silent for a long time, so long that Jim was beginning to think that he wasn't going to answer at all.... "Dr. Stoddard told you that he thinks of me as a son," Blair finally said, his voice rough. "Well, he's the closest thing I've ever had to a father." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Naomi, for whatever reason, chose not to tell me who my father was. And it never really bothered me, not that much. I never really felt like I was missing out on anything.
"But when I got to Rainier.... I don't know, Jim...." His voice trailed off as he let out a long, frustrated breath. "I was sixteen and for the first time in my life, I was scared. I was at least two years younger than any of the other students and I didn't know anyone. Naomi had volunteered to live near the university the first few years I was in school, but I told her she didn't have to. I'd picked Rainier. She hadn't. For her to live in Cascade for a couple of years...I just didn't think that would be fair to her."
"You were sixteen," Jim stated incredulously. "Even if it was just for two years, you could have asked her to stay. That wouldn't have made you selfish, Chief, it would have made you human."
Blair looked up at him again. "Jim, we were never anywhere for more than six months. You think my mom could have lived in Cascade for two years?" He shook his head and shrugged one shoulder. "Besides, I kind of knew that it was time for us to follow our own paths, separate from one another. I was going to be somewhere for several years getting my degree and she was going to go back on the road."
"So, she just left you there."
"I told her that's what I wanted. I was fine, Jim. Honestly, I was. There was so much going on at school, so much to see and learn that that's what I concentrated on. Not the fact that I was alone." He dropped his gaze to the ground again, his fingers tracing slow circles in the dirt. "But I'll tell you, man, when I met Dr. Stoddard everything changed." A tender smile pulled at his lips as he continued. "I always loved anthropology, thought it was exciting, and I'd read all kinds of books on it when I was a kid. But there was never anyone I could share that passion with until Dr. Stoddard.
"I could talk to him for hours and he never seemed to get sick of listening to me." He looked up at Jim and smiled shyly. "A lot of other people did...including my mom. But all of a sudden I had someone who welcomed my conversation. Can you imagine that? Someone who didn't get sick of listening to me talk."
Jim returned the smile but remained silent, allowing his partner to tell his story without interruption.
"He changed my life in so many ways," Blair continued, smiling more broadly now. "Sometimes I'd spend weekends at his house and more than once we took trips together, just the two of us. He showed me things out in the field that I could have never learned in a book or a classroom. But more than anything, we talked. Not always about anthropology either. Just about whatever was on our minds. I loved those talks, man," he finished softly.
As Blair's words sunk in, Jim was surprised to find out just how important, how influential, Eli Stoddard had been in his partner's life. And in that moment, as he stared at the young man beside him, he realized for the first time how much Blair had given up for him when he'd turned down Eli's invitation to join him in Borneo.
"I'm glad he's back in Cascade, Blair," Jim said when the silence between them stretched out too long.
Blair nodded. "Yeah. So am I."
"Then talk to him," Jim prodded.
"What am I supposed to say?" Blair whispered fiercely. "I mean, I've let all this time pass, I've ignored his calls...." His voice trailed off as he shook his head. "I've ruined everything."
"Blair, you haven't ruined anything," Jim assured him. "Eli wants to hear from you, that's all he wants. To talk to you and know you're okay."
Blair nodded, biting at his trembling lower lip.
Reaching out, Jim gripped his shoulder, squeezing tightly. "So will you call him? When we get out of this place, once we're back home? Will you call him?"
"Yeah," Blair breathed. "Yeah, I will." He looked up at Jim, his eyes tinged with the first bit of hope the sentinel had seen in weeks. "Thanks, man."
Jim smiled warmly at him. "For what? Getting you to realize something you already knew deep inside?"
Blair returned the grin. "Exactly."
Jim trailed slightly behind Blair, letting his guide lead the way. He didn't think Sandburg was aware of just how determined he appeared as they traveled, but Jim couldn't help but notice. There wasn't so much as the slightest hesitation in his partner's stride, never any doubt in his change of direction. They simply hiked along, Blair stopping only briefly from time to time to look around, then they would head in a slightly different direction.
And Jim never questioned the changes; he just kept up.
He continued to glimpse the panther from time to time, the lithe animal moving with them, pacing them. He was amazed at the ease with which he now viewed his spirit guide. For the first time, he realized that he'd truly come to think of the animal as a part of himself. But as he turned his attention back to his partner, he couldn't help but wonder if Blair would ever accept the wolf the same way.
How can I change that?
"Blair," he began, knowing he could no longer keep his concern to himself, "have you given any more thought to why you can't accept the spiritual side of yourself?"
Blair's step didn't even slow. "We already talked about this, Jim. Remember?"
"Yes. And I know you're scared. But I've seen you scared before, Chief. And you've never let that stop you. I've never met anyone in my life more curious than you. You dig and dig to get to the bottom of everything...except this."
Blair continued to walk, but his back had become tight, rigid, and his hands had curled into fists at his sides.
"In fact," Jim continued, "whenever you've needed the answers to things before, you've dragged half of Rainier's library home in order to conduct research. Why haven't you done that with this shaman stuff?"
"Jim..." There was a warning tone in Blair's voice. But Jim ignored it and plunged on.
"You told me you were afraid of what you might have to do, or become, if you accepted the role of shaman. That you were afraid of the unknown. But why is it still unknown to you, Blair? You could have easily had the answers by now if you'd really wanted them."
Blair stopped so suddenly Jim nearly plowed right into him. "Jim, I don't--"
"Incacha said he passed on the way of the shaman to you," Ellison pressed on, his voice overriding Blair's. "He wanted you to watch over my spirit guide and you've never looked into it at all. I think I deserve to know why."
Finally, Blair turned to face him, his eyes searching Jim's. Looking for....
What! Jim wanted to scream. What won't you tell me!
"Come on, Sandburg. Fear has never stopped you before. There's more to this. I can see it on your face, so just say it."
"Fine," Blair grated out. "You really want to know?" He expelled a harsh breath. "Do you remember when the Chopec left?" he asked, his tone suddenly bitter. "After Incacha died?"
"Yes," Jim said simply.
"They told you that you were no longer their sentinel but the sentinel of the Great City. I laughed and suggested to you that that made me the shaman of the Great City." Blair's expression took on an angry, determined edge. "You should have seen the look on your face when I said that, Jim. Believe me, I got the message."
"Message? What message?"
"It was clear you didn't want to talk about what had happened with Incacha. You just wanted to forget all about it. So we did. And as time passed, I thought it would just fall behind us and be forgotten. And it was...until we shared that vision at the fountain." He shook his head. "I honestly thought that when you came to see me at the hospital, after everything that had happened, we'd finally talk about Incacha, about the spiritual side of our relationship. But...you didn't."
Jim could hear the hurt in Blair's voice, could see it in his eyes and posture. He wished he could go back and change what had happened, what he had done...and hadn't done. "Blair--"
"You said then that you weren't ready to take that trip with me. But I think what you meant was that you'd never be ready. And I knew why."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I wasn't Incacha."
"What?" Jim blurted out, stunned by his guide's words. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"I know what he meant to you, Jim. How much he helped you during those days in Peru. And I knew you felt I couldn't be what he was to you. That I could never be as good a shaman...whatever that entailed...as Incacha had been."
"How can you say that?"
"Jim, please understand--I'm not talking about being your partner or friend or even your guide. I know where I stand in all those areas and I don't doubt what we have between us. But right now I'm talking about this"--he indicated the world around them--"the spiritual side, the keeper of your animal guide, your shaman. You had Incacha for that and when you lost him, you didn't want me. You didn't believe I could do it."
Blair shrugged half-heartedly. "It's okay, man. I used to wonder myself if Incacha hadn't made a big mistake in choosing me. But after what happened with the wolf on that mountainside, I have to say that we were probably both right. Incacha may have been a wise man, but he sure made a lousy choice that day in the loft." And with that, Blair turned and began walking again.
Jim started after him. "Blair, wait. When Incacha grabbed you--"
"Jim." Blair stopped and, with his back to the sentinel, held up one hand, cutting off his words. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I don't know why Incacha has even put me here"--again he indicated the forest surrounding the two men. "He can talk all he wants about how I've lost my way, but I think he's wrong. I don't think the role of shaman was ever meant for me."
Blair could feel Jim just behind him, keeping step, watching him. They hadn't talked since Jim had pushed him into admitting the truth about his continuing doubts regarding this journey and his place in this spiritual world of the sentinel universe.
He had never voiced his doubts before because he knew it would hurt his partner. But more than that, he knew Jim would have no choice but to deny what Blair was feeling. To try to convince him that he was wrong. And Blair didn't want that. Because there was nothing Jim could say that would erase what he felt deep inside.
I don't belong here. I never did.
He pushed through the underbrush, stepped into a clearing...and stopped dead in his tracks. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the deep ravine just ahead.
A hand touched the center of his back. "You okay, Chief?"
"Not really." He looked up and back at Jim, who stood just behind him, then gestured toward the ravine. "I can't cross that, man."
Jim stepped around his guide and took in the scene before him. A deep crevasse in the earth stretched out as far as the eye could see. Stepping up to the edge, Jim looked down. The canyon was deep, and at the bottom a river wound laconically around boulders and fallen logs.
"There's no way we can get down the side, Chief," Jim announced from the cliff edge. "It's too steep."
"Then what are we going to do?"
Jim clenched his jaw as he considered their limited options. He turned to his left and narrowed his eyes as a structure of some sort caught his eye. "There's a bridge down there," he said, pointing to their left. "We can cross using that."
Blair followed Jim's gaze and found himself staring at the flimsiest looking rope bridge he'd ever seen in his life. "You must be joking." He moved toward the bridge, keeping safely away from the edge of the ravine but needing to get a better look. Jim followed just behind him, staying close. Blair stopped at the entrance of the bridge and waited for Jim to step up beside him. "Absolutely, no way," he announced. "Look at this thing! The rope is frayed and half the planks along the bottom are missing. There is no way we're using this."
Jim shrugged and placed a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Well, Sandburg, you're the one choosing the direction here. If you say we don't have to cross, then we don't cross."
The shoulder beneath Jim's hand slumped ever so slightly. "Well, now, that's the whole problem, Jim." Blair's gaze shifted to the other side of the gorge. "We do have to cross." He looked up at his partner. "Wherever we're going, whatever it is I have to do--it's on the other side of this ravine."
Jim grimaced then conjured up an encouraging smile. "Okay, then. Guess we cross." He clapped him on the back. "Don't worry, Chief. I'll get you to the other side." He smiled down at his guide. "You just stay behind me and hold on."
"Hold on," Blair repeated sarcastically, nodding his head. "Any other words of wisdom you'd like to impart?"
"Yeah," Jim added, waggling his eyebrows. "Don't look down."
"Funny, man. Hey, can't I just hold on and close my eyes?"
Jim laughed. "Sandburg, I don't think either one of us could get across this thing with our eyes closed."
Blair stared at the gaps between the boards again. And as he watched, the wind kicked up and the rickety bridge began to sway gently back and forth. His stomach twisted with nausea as he watched. "Oh, man."
Jim turned to him, his expression serious now. "You going to be able to do this, Chief?"
"Yeah, yeah, I can do this," Sandburg answered with more conviction than he felt. "Just lead the way." But even as Blair said the words, Jim's expression...changed. A deep frown pulled at the corners of the sentinel's mouth and his brow wrinkled in obvious concern.
"Jim? What's wrong?"
"Um, I think we might have a problem here," Jim whispered. "Chief? I can't see."
"What do you mean you can't see? You mean you've lost your heightened sense of sight?" Blair huffed out an annoyed breath. "Well, I suppose we shouldn't be too surprised," he rambled, thinking aloud. "After all, you've lost your heightened sense of touch and hearing, so--"
"Sandburg," Jim interrupted. "I'm not talking about my heightened senses here." He raised a hand and waved it before his own eyes. "I'm blind."
"Blind? As in totally blind?" Sudden anger pulsed through Blair. "Okay, that's it. I'm tired of this." He turned in a slow circle, his gaze sweeping the landscape all around them. "Do you hear me!" he shouted. "I'm tired of this! If this test is supposed to be for my benefit, then quit messing with Jim!"
"Sandburg--"
"No, Jim," he said, cutting him off before he could speak. "If I'm supposed to be the one who's tested, then why are you the one being hurt?"
"I'm not being hurt."
"You're blind!" Blair exploded. "You call that not being hurt?"
"Okay, listen...I think I know what's happening here." Jim reached out, groping for Blair.
"Here, man." Blair grabbed his hands and placed them on his shoulders. "I'm right here. And I'm listening. Let's hear this theory you have."
"I think I was blinded because I was going to take the lead."
"But why would that make a difference?"
Jim squeezed at the shoulders he now held. "Blair," he began softly, "think about it. This is your journey. I think that if we're going to get across that ravine, then you have to be the one to lead us over."
Blair raised his eyebrows, then shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of dismissal. "Well, then, we're not crossing it."
"You were ready to go a minute ago."
"Yeah, when you were leading. Now you can't even see." His gaze shifted to the bridge. It continued to sway gently in the wind. "You said it yourself." He looked back up at his partner. "Neither one of us could cross with our eyes closed. I'm not about to risk you that way. We'll just wait for your sight to come back."
"I don't think it's going to return, Chief. Not until we've crossed to the other side."
"Then I'll find a way around it. I'll---"
"There is no other way. Come on, Blair. You can do this," Jim said, his voice firm. "You can get us both across. I trust you."
Blair looked up into Jim's unseeing eyes, wanting to believe what he was hearing. But in his heart, he still carried the doubt he'd felt ever since Jim's initial rejection of the gift Incacha had passed on to him. I can't lead you in this way, Jim. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. He closed his eyes and fought against a fierce rush of emotions...because deep down he knew it would be his doubt and fear that would now keep them from crossing that bridge and completing this journey.
"I'm sorry," he choked out at last. "I just can't do this, Jim." He tried to move away from Jim but the hands on his shoulders tightened, becoming almost painful.
"Blair, when Incacha grabbed you--"
"Jim, don't--"
"Just hear me out this time," Jim insisted, not releasing the tight grip he had on his guide, forcing him to stay and listen. "When he grabbed you, I could see the fear, the uncertainty on your face. I knew I couldn't help you with whatever it was he was passing on to you. I'd been in this world before. I knew it existed, that this mystical side was real. And I knew it was powerful.
"So Blair, it wasn't that I didn't think you could handle what Incacha was passing on to you. I was just afraid for you. I knew when I made the decision to be a sentinel that there would be no going back. Once I accepted my role, that was it for me. My life was locked in one direction and although I didn't regret it, I never wanted that for you. I wanted you to have a choice, Blair. I never wanted you locked into something you couldn't change. I...I wanted you to be able to walk away...if you ever wanted to."
Blair blinked up at Jim in astonishment as the sentinel fell silent again. "You think I could walk away from you--that I would walk away from you--now, ever?"
"Not as my friend, no. But right now we're linked by our friendship more than anything else. This spiritual bond--I don't really know what that means for us. But I know that if the decision you have to make is anything like mine--once it's made, it's made."
Blair looked across to the other side of the ravine, thought about what Jim had just told him. "Well, I guess there's only one way to find out...."
"Chief...."
"No, Jim. I don't know what's in store, either." He reached up and lay his hand against Jim's chest. "But I'm ready to find out."
"You're sure?"
Blair laughed. "Would I be crossing a bridge made out of what amounts to a roll of dental floss and a box of toothpicks if I weren't?"
Jim chuckled and released Blair's shoulders. "Okay. I guess we know what we have to do, then."
"Right," Blair answered, surveying the bridge again. "All right, Jim, I'm going to have to go first here. You ready?"
"I always follow your lead, Chief," Jim said with an encouraging smile. "Let's do this."
Grabbing the sentinel by the arm, Blair led him forward. "Okay, you saw the broken planks and the gaps. You think you can remember where all the tough spots are?"
"No problem."
"Good. We're going to take this one step at a time. I'm going to tell you every time we come to a spot with a missing plank. All I need you to do is widen your step. I'll help guide you, but you have to keep in mind the size of those things."
"I can do that, Chief."
"Good," Blair said again. He secured one of Jim's hands on his shoulder and the other on the bridge. "You just hold onto the railing and onto me. We'll take it real easy here."
They moved onto the bridge, Blair taking it slowly. He kept his gaze forward, glancing down only briefly before taking each step, checking the planks at his feet, directing Jim over each broken or missing board. He made a concentrated effort to ignore the deep ravine and the river below, to focus only on the planks and the gaps at his feet.
Thankfully, the wind had died down and the bridge was relatively steady as they made their way across. But just as they reached the midway point, a gust of wind blasted over them. The bridge began to sway back and forth, the ropes creaking and moaning under the strain. Blair froze.
Breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, he stood perfectly still. The hand on his shoulder tightened.
"Sandburg?" Jim's voice came from behind him, confused, worried. "Sandburg? What's happening?"
Blair couldn't force any words past the sudden constriction in his throat.
"Sandburg, talk to me! What's wrong?"
Blair squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow his fast beating heart, to force himself to continue forward, knowing he had no choice in the matter. As he hesitated, something brushed against his legs. His eyes snapped open and he looked down. The wolf sat a few feet in front of him, staring up. It was the first time he'd seen the beast today. Blair was struck immediately by the change that had come over the animal--it appeared stronger, healthier. It was obviously far from a full recovery, but a brightness shone from the eyes that had not been present in previous sightings and the lean body seemed more erect, stronger.
Blair and the wolf stared at one another for a long moment. The animal's gaze was curious, thoughtful...worried. Blair pulled his gaze up to the other side of the ravine. There, waiting for them, sat the panther.
"Sandburg--"
"I'm okay, Jim," Blair assured his friend. "Just needed a minute to get my equilibrium back." The wolf trotted quickly, easily to the other side of the bridge as if showing Blair exactly how simple it truly was. "I can do this," Blair muttered, starting forward again. Slowly, Jim moving along behind him, he navigated the remainder of the bridge.
As they stepped back onto solid ground, Blair exhaled a breath of relief. He moved away from the edge of the ravine and sat down wearily, pulling Jim down alongside him. "I don't ever want to do that again, man."
Jim patted his shoulder. "You did great, Chief."
"Yeah, but I still don't ever want to do it again." He looked over at Jim. "So? Can you see me now?"
Jim shook his head. "Not yet."
Blair reached over and squeezed his arm. "Don't worry, man. It'll come back." He glanced around them. "For now, let's just see how much farther we can go today. It's starting to get dark and I want to find us a good place for the night. Plus, I still need to catch us some dinner."
Jim stood to his feet and extended a hand. "Lead on."
Jim listened as Blair moved around their small camp, tracking him with his hearing. Sandburg was busy setting up a place for them to sleep for the night. Jim could feel the heat of the fire that still burned nearby, the fire his guide had used to cook the fish he'd caught for them earlier in the evening. Jim still couldn't see, but even without his sight he felt...satisfied.
Since crossing the bridge, Blair seemed more confident than he had during this entire journey. And Jim couldn't help but be pleased by it.
"You know what I'm not going to miss about this place?" Blair asked suddenly.
"What's that?"
Blair sat down across from Jim, their knees touching slightly. "The fish, man."
Jim chuckled. "The protein is good for you, Sandburg."
"Well, you know, as much as I might gripe about junk food, what I could really go for right now is a nice, greasy pizza."
"Don't even say it," Jim groaned.
"Pizza," Blair continued, ignoring Jim's protest. "With mushrooms and green peppers."
"And pepperoni," Jim added. "Pepperoni and ham."
"And pineapple."
"Pineapple? Sandburg, you are the only person who could take a perfectly good fantasy about junk food and ruin it."
"Pineapple is not ruining it. You said ham and I once had a ham and pineapple pizza and it was good. It's Hawaiian style."
Jim laughed, shaking his head. "You're a real man of the world, aren't you, Chief?"
"Yeah, that's me. Though I can just imagine the look on my students' faces if I should ever decide to tell them about this particular journey!"
The two men fell into congenial silence. Jim listened to the breeze as it moved through the trees around them, sighed with contentment as the cool evening air brushed over his skin. Even without his heightened senses, he could appreciate the beauty of this place, could sense its mystery.
Somewhere nearby, the wolf howled. "I think he sounds better," Jim commented absently.
"Definitely better," Blair agreed. "You think that's some sort of sign?"
"In this place? Who knows?"
"Jim," Blair paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to share his next thought. Then, "Do you think if anyone else had been with you when Incacha died, that he would have passed the way of the shaman on to them instead?"
"No, I don't," Jim answered without hesitation. "I think whatever Incacha passed on to you was meant for you. If Simon or Joel or someone else had been with me, I don't believe it would have happened at all."
"Yeah, I guess," Blair muttered.
Jim leaned forward and gripped his guide's knee. "Blair, do you remember what I told Hannah that day I found you in her house--when she had that knife to your throat?"
"Yes," he said simply.
"What did I tell her, Chief?"
"Jim---"
"I want to hear you say it."
Blair let out a weary breath. "You told her I was a part of you," he whispered. "That if she destroyed me, she'd destroy you as well."
"Did you think I was lying when I said that?"
"I think you were trying to save my life," Blair muttered.
"So, you didn't believe me?"
"It's not that, Jim. It's just that...in extreme situations, we say extreme things. You said what you had to so she wouldn't cut my throat."
"Blair, I said those words because they're true. You are a part of me. Incacha knew that, sensed it before I could myself. I was too afraid of it. You told me that once--that I base my decisions and actions on fear, and you were right. But I'm not afraid of what this means anymore, Blair." He released Sandburg's knee and sat back. "I'm glad we're taking this journey together."
He heard Blair exhale a small laugh of pleasure. "Me too, man. Me too."
The two men fell silent again. Blair shifted slightly until his knees were no longer touching Jim's. And as the seconds drifted into minutes, tension wound its way through the blinded sentinel.
"Blair? Could you keep talking to me?"
"About what?"
"Anything. It's just...I can't see you and I still can't detect your heartbeat and when you're quiet.... I gotta tell you, Chief, that's a little unnerving for me right now."
"My being quiet is unnerving for you?" Blair laughed lightly. "I'm going to remind you later that you said that."
Jim smiled at his friend's teasing. But as the silence once again reached out and embraced him, he shivered. Before he even realized he was doing it, Jim strained to hear Blair's heartbeat. Nothing.
What if he never heard it again? What if, based on the decision Blair made in this place, that sound was lost to him forever?
"You okay, man?" Blair asked. "You just got real tense."
"Blair," Jim began softly, "I don't think I've ever told you exactly how much I rely on the sound of your heart. It's kind of like a beacon for me. I always know where you are based on that sound, and a lot of the time I even know what your mood is depending on how it's beating. And now that I don't have that...when it's really quiet, like it was just now, I worry that you've been taken away from me."
"I'm right here, man." Blair took Jim's hand in his and held tightly. "And I'm not going anywhere without you."
Blair awoke the next morning to find that Jim had moved away from him some time during the night. Opening his eyes and glancing to his left, he saw the sentinel a few inches away. Jim's body was curled into a tight, uncomfortable-looking ball, but it wasn't Jim's position that bothered Blair--it was the trembling he noticed across the broad back and shoulders and the tremulous inhalation of each breath that Jim drew into his lungs.
"Jim?" He moved quickly to the sentinel, concern tightening his stomach. "Hey man." He placed a hand on Jim's arm before leaning over so he could get a glimpse of his friend's face. Jim's eyes were squeezed shut, his forehead lined with pain. "You okay?"
His only answer was a small groan.
"C'mon, Jim. Tell me what's wrong."
"I don't know what's wrong," Ellison answered after a few seconds. "I feel awful."
"All right, let me check you out." Blair urged Jim onto his back then knelt over him and felt his forehead. It was warm--too warm. "Open your eyes, buddy." When Jim obeyed, Blair asked, "How's your vision? Can you see me?"
There was a short pause as Jim stared upward in Blair's direction, then distress shadowed the strong features. "No," he whispered out. "I can't."
Blair patted at his shoulder, hoping to reassure his friend. "That's all right. We know the loss of vision has to do with this test, so we can handle it. Right?"
"Right," Jim answered in agreement, but the tone of his voice was laced with obvious frustration.
"Okay, now, tell me how you're feeling."
Jim reached up and rubbed at his eyes. "Miserable."
"Miserable doesn't tell me anything, Jim. I need to know specifically what's going on with you."
"My muscles ache, I get dizzy if I try to sit up, and I feel like I have no energy at all."
"Sounds like the flu," he quipped.
Jim dropped his hand away from his face and shot Blair a caustic look. "I don't think there's any such thing as the flu in the spirit world, Sandburg."
"Yeah, I didn't think so, either" Blair mulled, ignoring Jim's peevishness. "So, that means it's a part of the test."
"A part I could do without," Jim grumbled. "But I think you're probably right," he agreed after a few seconds, acceptance warming his voice. Slowly, reaching out blindly for Blair's assistance, the sentinel pushed himself up to a sitting position. His hand sought and found Blair's arm and he squeezed lightly. "Listen, Chief, I don't think I can travel in this condition. You need to go on without me."
"What?" Blair spat out. "Oh, no! Absolutely no way, man! We are in this together or not at all."
Jim shook his head. "You're not listening to me. I can't make it. I'll only slow you down. This is your journey." He patted affectionately at Blair's arm. "You can do this alone."
Blair exhaled a long, audible sigh as he tried to decide what he should do. He just didn't feel right leaving Jim behind. It was his belief that Incacha had placed them together in this strange world for a reason....
Still undecided, Blair's gaze traveled upward to a small rise above them. The panther and wolf sat side by side on the knoll, watching the two men in the clearing. When Blair's gaze met that of the wolf, the animal stood and moved forward a few feet. It appeared to be much stronger this morning; it was panting, wagging its tail, and its eyes were brighter and clearer than they had been the day before. As Blair continued to watch, the wolf turned and walked away several feet, stopped, then looked back at Blair. When Sandburg didn't move, it again turned and moved in Blair's direction, its body language radiating energy and impatience, as though it was waiting for the two men to get started. Beside the wolf, the panther stared down impassively at Blair, its tail twitching behind it. It sniffed the air for a long moment, then opened its mouth and growled loudly.
His decision made, Blair stood and reached down for Jim. "C'mon, buddy," he encouraged as he took Jim's hand and guided the sentinel's arm up around his neck. Bracing himself, he pulled Jim to his feet, waited until the larger man had gained his balance, then slipped his arm around Jim's waist. "Our traveling companions seem to be anxious for us to get started."
"Sandburg--"
"We can do this, Jim."
Jim swayed against him and the taller man grasped Blair's shoulder more tightly in order to steady himself. "This is not a good idea," he stated evenly.
"We have to do this. I don't think we have a choice." Sandburg placed his palm flat against Jim's midsection, leaned into him and spoke insistently: "Listen to me--all you have to worry about is putting one foot in front of the other. I'll do the rest. You with me?"
Jim frowned down at him for a long moment, then an indulgent smile softened his features. "Yeah, I'm with you, Chief."
Together, the two men started up the slight incline toward the rise where the animal guides were waiting. As Blair glanced up at the wolf, the animal wagged its tail, turned, and disappeared across the top of the small hill. The panther sat somberly, gazing with seeming disinterest at the struggling men. Then it stood slowly, stretched, and nonchalantly followed the wolf, its long tail swishing lazily behind it.
"Cats," Blair muttered to himself as the imperturbable animal disappeared from view. "No matter what you do, they're never impressed."
"What?"
"Nothing. I just think your animal guide has an attitude."
Blair's thoughts turned longingly back to the small incline that had been the starting point of their journey this morning. He hadn't realized at the time that the gently rising path up to the knoll would be the easiest part of their travels. Beyond the rise the terrain had wound steadily upward over increasingly steep hills and the forest floor had become rocky and difficult to navigate.
The traveling had been especially tedious and frustrating for Jim. Blind, sick, completely dependent upon Sandburg, he had set his jaw and remained silent as Blair led him around or across obstacles in their path or urged him up another incline. But the sentinel hadn't complained, had only taken a few moments to rest when necessary and then had encouraged Blair on with a pat on the shoulder or a succinct, "Let's go, Chief."
Now, three hours away from the clearing where they had spent the night, both men were physically exhausted.
"I hear water," Blair said, the idea of a cool drink sending a surge of excitement through him. He turned in a slow circle until he could decide which direction the sound was coming from. "This way, man."
He led Jim to the edge of the small stream, where they knelt down side by side. Before drinking, Blair splashed some of the cold, clear water across his perspiring face and up over his arms. He chuckled to himself as he noticed Jim doing the same thing. "Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Tastes even better," Jim amended after swallowing a handful of the clear, cold liquid.
The two men drank until they were satisfied, then Blair stood. Reaching down, he took Jim's hand and helped him to his feet. "Let's rest a bit, okay? There's a log over here where we can sit down."
Both men dropped down on the moss-covered log and exhaled simultaneous sighs of thankful relief. There were several minutes of quiet as they caught their breaths and rested their weary muscles.
Finally, Blair broke the silence. "How are you feeling?"
The sentinel shook his head. "A bit better. I'm not as dizzy. I just wish I'd get my sight back."
"I know you do," Blair agreed softly. "Me, too." And as he continued to look at Jim, he realized that in spite of being ill, tired and blind, the sentinel sat erect, at full alert. Blair smiled. Always watching, always protecting. "Jim?" he asked at length, "what did you have to do when you finally made your decision to accept your sentinel abilities?"
The question brought a smile to Jim's lips and a twinkle of mischief danced in the unseeing eyes. He looked in Blair's direction. "Well, I was led to a cliff--"
"You were led to a what?" Blair cut-in, his voice edged with panic.
Jim couldn't help but laugh at Sandburg's reaction. "That's right. There was a cliff and I knew I had no choice but to go forward if I wanted to accept my abilities."
"Great!" Blair groused, pushing his hands through his tangled hair. "That's just great. A cliff, and me with my fear of heights. Like that bridge yesterday wasn't test enough!" He gestured wildly, though he knew Jim couldn't see it. "What are these spirit people, anyway," he asked, lowering his voice and looking around for any signs of Incacha, "a bunch of sadists?"
Again, Jim laughed. But as Blair watched, the grin slowly faded and the sentinel became serious. "Your test might be different, Sandburg," he told him softly. "But what if it isn't? Are you telling me that if your test involves facing a cliff, you won't be able to make your decision?"
Blair caught the undercurrent of worry in the comment. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all, man." He was silent for a moment, then he said with conviction, "It'll be hard. But even if it is a cliff, I feel I'm ready to make my decision."
A soft, hopeful smile lit Jim's features. Blair's voice conveyed peace, acceptance. "You're ready to take-on your role as shaman? Are you sure?"
"Yes, Jim. I'm sure...."
And with those words, the forest surrounding the two men suddenly changed. No longer were they seated near the small stream. Instead, they stood in a clearing that edged another deep ravine. Instinctively, Blair backed away from the ledge, drawing Jim with him.
"What happened, Chief? We aren't at the stream anymore. Where are we?"
Blair tore his gaze away from the cliff's sharp drop-off and looked up at Jim. His partner's unseeing eyes darted from side to side, his body was rigid, tense.
"We're at a cliff," Blair explained, struggling to keep his voice from wavering, the sudden change in scenery, the cliff before him putting him off his game. Movement to his left caught his eye and he turned. A vaguely uneasy feeling washed through him. "I think this is the end of our journey," he said, tightening the hold he had on Jim's arm. "Incacha's here...and he has the wolf and the panther with him."
"Young one," the Chopec greeted Blair as he stepped out of the forest and walked up to the two men, "you have completed your journey. It is now time to make your decision."
Blair's brow creased in confusion. "I don't understand--"
"You will," the warrior interrupted. "But first, are you ready to accept your destiny?"
Blair looked over at the cliff, up at Jim, then back at Incacha. Drawing in a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, he nodded. "I am."
"Very well. It is time."
Incacha moved to the cliff and motioned for Blair to join him. The young man dropped his hand from Jim's arm and reluctantly went to stand beside the Chopec warrior. He closed his eyes, swallowed deeply, then opened his eyes again and stared over the edge of the ravine into the mist below. "I have to go forward, don't I?"
"Only if you choose to accept what you are, young one," Incacha replied simply.
Again, Blair took a deep breath. "All right," he said, turning to face Incacha, "if that's what it takes." He shifted his gaze away from the Chopec, back to the spot where he had left Jim standing. "Jim...."
But the sentinel was nowhere to be seen. A wave of apprehension wound through Blair as he scanned the tree line looking for his partner. His gaze cut across the small clearing to where the two animal spirits had been sitting side by side. Only the wolf remained.
"I don't understand." He jerked toward Incacha, his pulse pounding in his ears. "Where's Jim?"
Incacha shook his head. "Your sentinel cannot help you, young one. You must make your decision alone."
Jim reached up and placed his hands across his ears in a dazed attempt to shut out the cacophony that assaulted him. Slowly, eyes closed, he allowed awareness to overtake him. Harried voices calling for tests, stat; concerned voices asking about the condition of family members; the steady beeping of medical equipment; the soft squish of rubber soles against vinyl...
His eyes snapped open and he squinted against the painfully bright light. Blinking past the unpleasantness, he surveyed his surroundings. He was no longer in the jungle--that much was apparent. Instead, he was lying on an examination table in a small, curtained cubicle--a fact that registered in his confused mind several seconds before he realized that he was no longer blind.
"Mr. Ellison?" A middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform leaned over him, looked into his eyes with professional scrutiny, then studied the monitors mounted at the head of the table. "We've been worried about you. How are you feeling?"
"Confused," Jim murmured absently, rubbing at his temple as he continued to look around, trying to get a glimpse past the nurse and the thin curtain that appeared to be separating him from adjacent exam cubicles.
"That's to be expected," the woman informed him matter-of-factly. She finished studying the monitors above Jim's head and smiled down at her patient. "You've been unconscious for several hours. Do you remember being in an accident? Your plane going down?"
That's right, they were on a plane... And it was going to crash... But then...then...
"What happened?"
"The plane managed to land, but it broke apart. There were some...fatalities. You were fortunate. You--"
"Blair!" Jim broke in sharply, suddenly remembering that he hadn't been alone on that flight. "What happened to Blair?" He tried to sit up, to see around the nurse, but a deceptively strong hand blocked his progress and forced his shoulders back against the table.
"Just take it easy, Mr. Ellison," the woman instructed firmly.
"Where's Blair Sandburg?"
"Who?"
"Blair Sandburg!" Jim demanded. He swallowed against the panic that churned in his stomach. "He was sitting in the seat next to me, by the window! Where is he?"
The nurse shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ellison. He's probably in one of our other exam units--"
"Find out!" Jim barked, shooting the nurse an icy look. "I need to know!"
"You need to calm down!" the woman fired back in a no-nonsense tone. She leaned over Jim and glared down at him. "I know you're concerned, but becoming agitated won't help."
Jim squeezed his eyes closed and breathed in and out through his nose. Opening his eyes after several long moments, he looked up at the nurse. "I need to find Blair Sandburg. I have to know if...if he's hurt...if he's alive...."
Jim grimaced inwardly at the last portion of his statement. He hated having to state the fact that there was a possibility that his friend may not have survived, hated the way the words sounded as they slipped past his lips. He'd left Blair in a clearing with Incacha, at the edge of a cliff. He hadn't been able to see his guide or the Chopec warrior, but he'd heard their conversation, knew Blair was in Incacha's care....
But that had been in the spirit world. This...this was reality. Their reality--his and Blair's. He survived. I know he survived! I was with him. Even as the words flashed through his mind, another thought pressed in on him. But what if it was all just a dream? What if I dreamed the entire journey though the spirit world and Blair is...
His mind refused to form itself around the unfathomable prospect. He gazed up at the nurse again, saw the firm determination that remained in her eyes.
"Am I free to go?" he asked, not missing the surprised look that crossed her features in response to his question.
"I think not," she replied adamantly. "A doctor will want to see you. You've been unconscious...."
"....for several hours. So you said. But is there anything else wrong with me?"
"Not that we can tell...."
"Fine," Jim said succinctly, then pushed aside her restraining hand and sat up. He expected dizziness, a bit of nausea, but he felt surprisingly alert and well.
"Mr. Ellison!" the nurse protested as Jim slipped off the table and retrieved his coat from the lone chair in the cubicle. "You really should be taking it easy--"
"Who can I talk to about the status of incoming crash victims?"
She stared at him for a moment, looked as if she was going to call security or insist he lie back down, then she pursed her lips and gestured toward a door at the far end of the partitioned room. "The Red Cross and our local Search and Rescue have set up a central command center at the nurse's station out in the ER. They're working with our staff...."
The rest of her instructions were lost on Jim as he brushed past her and made his way to the door at the other end of the room. He stepped out into what appeared to be a main corridor...and into mass confusion. The place was in total chaos. People lined the corridor and occupied every available chair and sofa. Men and women in white lab coats or green surgical scrubs hustled around and between small groups of people on their way to attend to patients. Jim stood still for a moment and took in the scene, easily able to identify rescue personnel, hospital employees, reporters and crash survivors.
Setting his jaw, he made his way in the direction of the nurses' station at the far end of the corridor. Pushing past several people gathered around the circular station, he stepped up to the counter and stared down at an obviously frenzied rescue worker who sat amidst the equally frenzied nursing staff. "I'm Detective James Ellison," he announced briskly, "and I'm looking for my partner, Blair Sandburg. He was on the plane with me--"
"You'll have to wait your turn, sir," the rescue worker intoned impatiently, handing a form to a man standing to Jim's right then placing his hand on the receiver of an insistently ringing phone. "If your partner is here, we'll find him for you. But it's going to take me a bit of time--"
"I don't have time!" Jim exploded, bringing his palm down against the counter. "Small guy, long curly hair, dressed in jeans and a tan suede jacket. Have you seen him or not?"
Jim's only answer was an angry scowl. The rescue worker lifted the receiver of the ringing phone to his ear and spoke into it, effectively putting Jim and his insistent request on hold.
"Great," the detective fumed, turning away from the counter and scanning the corridor for a glimpse of his friend among the throng of people gathered in the ER. It was obvious to him that the rescue worker was only doing his job to the best of his ability--that Jim would be placed on a list and waited on as soon as possible. But he didn't have time to wait.
He closed his eyes and considered trying to locate his partner amidst the chaos. His hearing and other senses seemed to be back on line--surely he could tune out all of the noise and find that familiar heartbeat. That is, if I can hear it now...
What if I can hear it, but Blair isn't here...or worse, what if he's...
Jim opened his eyes and scanned the mass of people. If Blair was here, he'd find him one way or another. But how?
"Excuse me. Detective?"
He looked around to find a tall, slender woman in a nurse's uniform looking at him.
"I heard you asking about your partner?"
"Yes," Jim exhaled, "do you know where he is?"
"I worked with the attending physician who examined a man matching the description you just gave to the rescue team member. I can take you to him if you'd like...."
"You have done well."
Blair turned to face the Chopec shaman. "Done well? What have I done?"
"You have guided your sentinel to the end of your journey," Incacha stated simply.
"I don't understand." Blair shook his head in confusion. "That was the test?"
The warrior nodded.
Blair huffed out a small, derisive laugh. "I don't get it. I haven't done anything on this journey that I don't do every day as Jim's partner and friend...."
Blair's words cut off as he caught the pleased look on Incacha's face. The Chopec smiled and said, "You have guided your sentinel, supported him when he was weak, comforted him when he was afraid, encouraged him when he was weary, shared with him your strength and optimism."
"That's the role of guide."
"And it is also the role of shaman."
Blair squinted his eyes, frowned.
"You look surprised."
"I was expecting some instructions about special ceremonies I'm supposed to perform or something like that."
The Chopec smiled again. "Shamans serve many purposes, my young friend. You are already fulfilling your destiny as shaman to the Sentinel of the Great City. All that remains is for you to accept who you are."
Blair dropped his gaze to the ground and nudged absently at a tuft of grass with the tip of his shoe. Was he ready? Was Jim ready? The last question answered itself--Jim had made it clear during their journey together that he was willing to accept Blair's role in his life as shaman as well as guide, partner and friend....
"When Enquiri feared your destiny as shaman, he lost his way." The statement startled Blair back into the present. He watched as the Chopec's dark eyes shifted to the cliff edge, then back to Blair again. "But it was not until you, young shaman, began to deny your own destiny that you lost your way as well, putting both yourself and your sentinel in danger."
"In danger?"
"Your rejection of your animal spirit made it impossible for him to make himself known to your sentinel when you were in need. Had you died on that mountain, Enquiri would have had to continue on alone, vulnerable without his guide."
And as Incacha words and the meaning behind them settled over Blair, his heart grew heavy with grief. He'd rejected his spirit guide and as a result, it had been unable to go to the sentinel, had been unable to warn him that his guide was in need. And Jim had almost been left alone as a result.
Following the realization of the danger he'd brought upon himself and his sentinel came another darker one: If only I'd accepted this sooner, then maybe the journey that started on the side of that mountain wouldn't have been necessary. Maybe Stan would still be alive. Maybe Jim would have found us in time.
"The boy would not have lived," Incacha intoned sympathetically, as if reading Blair's thoughts.
He looked up. "You don't know that."
"I do. Enquiri would have never found you in time to save that boy. His death was not your fault, as the death of all those boys was not your fault. It was destined to happen, young one, whether you had been there or not. However, your place on the journey was necessary. It was to show you how you had limited the power of your animal spirit in your life. How you had lost your way. But even that rejection could not keep your spirit guide from you in your time of need.
Blair thought about the warmth offered to him on that mountainside. I didn't believe in him, had denied his existence for months, yet he still kept me alive. Gratitude swept over him--gratitude toward the mysterious animal who had shown more loyalty than he had received.
"What about this journey?" Blair asked finally, needing to understand it all. He opened his arms and gestured around him. "Why did I take this journey?"
"Your journey to this decision place was only to remind you that you are the source of your sentinel's strength, both physically and spiritually, and that you have the power already within you to be all that your sentinel needs."
Blair narrowed his eyes as he considered Incacha's words. "You're saying I don't have to do anything different if I accept my role as shaman?"
"I'm saying that you are what you are, young one. When I passed the way of the shaman on to you, it was a sign of my blessing, nothing more. I gave you nothing that you did not already possess." Again, Incacha smiled. "All that remains is for you to accept who you truly are."
Jim stared down at his partner in relief--Blair was alive. Unconscious, but alive.
"You say he's been like this for how long?" he asked the nurse who had shown him to Blair's room.
"Since he was found at the crash site, over six hours ago."
"And the doctor can find nothing wrong with him?"
"Other than the fact that he remains unconscious, no. We've run a battery of tests, including a series of brain scans, but everything looks normal. We have no idea why your friend won't wake up."
"Thank you," Jim said. "Any problem with me sitting with him?"
The smile he received was warm and genuine. "Of course not. Maybe he'll know you're here and that will help him decide to join all of us again."
Jim raised his eyebrows at the nurse's surprisingly non-traditional advice, but she simply smiled then turned and exited the cubicle, leaving the two men alone.
Jim seated himself on the bed next to Blair and studied his partner. He picked up Blair's limp hand and placed it between both of his own. Eyes closed, features serene and relaxed, Blair appeared only to be sleeping...but Jim knew the real reason his partner hadn't yet regained consciousness. Jim had been at the cliff but had been returned to a state of wakefulness before Blair had had an opportunity to make his final decision regarding the acceptance of his role of shaman. But Blair was still there, in that spirit world--still with Incacha at the edge of that cliff. Jim was sure of it now, sure it had all been real. And he was sure that Blair was in the process of making his decision....
"Come on, Chief," he urged quietly, "you can do this." He squeezed lightly at the hand he held. "Please, Blair. I need you."
Blair eyed the cliff, then moved slowly toward it. "I'm ready."
Incacha was silent for a brief moment, then he tilted his head to one side and said, "You have not asked me what the consequences will be if you are unable--or unwilling--to take this step of acceptance."
Blair turned to look down at the swirling mist shrouding the depths of the ravine. "No need to ask," he said softly. "There's only one decision I can make, only one decision I want to make." He hesitated, then looked over at Incacha again. "What if I don't have all the answers, though? How do I know I'm guiding Jim in the right direction?"
Incacha smiled, moved forward, and touched his fingertips to the young man's chest, over his heart. "Look in here, young shaman. Your love for your sentinel will show you the way."
And with those words, the Chopec was gone.
Blair blinked in surprise at the sudden disappearance. He glanced around, half-hoping to find the Chopec watching from a distance, but the warrior was nowhere to be seen. His gaze traveled across the clearing to where the wolf sat watching him with wide, soulful eyes. "What are you looking at?"
In response to Blair's voice, the healthy wolf panted, wagged its tail, then whined.
Blair rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say. You're not one about to jump off the edge of a cliff."
The wolf wagged its tail again, then tilted its head back and howled robustly, the sound echoing loudly off the surrounding mountains.
Sandburg chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, yeah, I'm going...."
Blair turned and edged himself closer to the cliff edge. Without looking down, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath...and stepped out into nothingness.
Blair's eyes flew open. He gasped and looked frantically around him. He didn't know exactly what he had expected to find--but a gleaming white wall lined with unrecognizable medical equipment wouldn't have been high on his list. What happened to the jungle?
"Easy, easy," a familiar voice soothed. He felt strong, warm fingers curl around his right hand and he turned his head to find Jim standing over him. "You're in the hospital, but you're okay," his partner assured him.
"Jim...." He smiled in response to his partner's warm grin. "So, we're alive?"
The sentinel's smile broadened, causing the skin at his eyes to crease into deep laugh lines. "It would appear so."
As Blair stared up into the detective's eyes, another thought occurred to him. "Can you see me?" he asked almost hesitantly, fearing the answer he might receive to his question.
"Yes, I can see you."
A small chuckle of satisfaction escaped Blair as the good news made its way into his heart. "How about your other senses?"
"On-line," Jim answered simply. "One hundred percent."
Blair sighed in relief. "That's good news."
Jim smiled down at him, was silent for a long moment, then his eyes softened and he became serious. "So...you jumped, huh?"
Blair laughed. "Yeah, man, I did. Can you believe it? It's got to be the scariest thing I've ever done in my life. But then, you know that...after all, you had to do the same thing." Sandburg took a quick breath. "I'm telling you, man, putting my foot out and just stepping into thin air...." His eyes widened and he grinned broadly. "Whoa!"
Clearing his throat, Jim looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then back down at his guide. "Um, Chief...did I ever tell you that--technically--I never really did jump off the cliff?"
"What do you mean, technically you didn't jump?" His wide eyes narrowed as he stared up at the sentinel. "Either you jumped or you didn't. Which is it?"
"I was going to jump, Sandburg, honest I was," Jim explained quickly, giving Blair a beseeching look. "In my heart, I had accepted being a sentinel and all that the decision entailed. But just before I stepped off the cliff...well, I was...transported."
"Transported? Transported! As in, 'Beam me up, Scotty,' transported?"
Jim chuckled. "No, not like that. All of a sudden I was back in the...real...world. And all my senses were on-line." Ellison shrugged. "I think the important thing was that I made the decision to accept my abilities. It wasn't necessary to jump."
Blair gaped up at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Jim, I just jumped off a cliff and you're telling me I didn't have to? That I could have just accepted my role as shaman in my heart and it would have been enough? Is that what you're telling me?"
"Shhhh, shhhh," Jim soothed, reaching up with his free hand to pat lightly at Blair's shoulder. An amused smile played at the sentinel's mouth. "You shouldn't get upset, Chief. It really isn't good for you."
Blair squeezed his eyes closed and breathed in and out through his nose. "I am letting this go, I am letting this go," he whispered out his mother's favorite mantra. Jim's soft laughter caused him to open his eyes again and when he caught the look of warmth and happiness on Jim's face he couldn't help but return his friend's smile. "I'm gonna get you for this, man," he threatened benignly, earning himself another bright smile from his partner.
Blair relaxed and allowed his thoughts to turn to the journey the two men had just completed. Every moment, every detail was etched vividly in his mind, and he knew the journey had been just as real as what he was experiencing at this present moment.
After a few quiet moments, he smiled up at his sentinel. "We passed the test, man."
Jim nodded his head and squeezed tightly at Blair's hand. "You passed the test," he amended proudly.
Sandburg swallowed as Incacha's words came back to him: I gave you nothing that you did not already possess. "I understand it now," he told Jim. "Being your shaman is really no different than being your guide. Incacha told me that I'm already fulfilling my destiny...."
Again, the fingers covering his hand tightened. "I know you are." As Jim continued to gaze down at him, the proud smile turned to sadness, then to a worried frown. "Blair," the sentinel began, "I'm sorry. You would have never had to have gone through this test if I would have just accepted your role instead of trying to ignore it."
Gently, Blair withdrew his hand from Jim's and reached up to touch lightly at his friend's face. "No, Jim. I don't feel that way. I'm glad we shared this journey. It...it made me sure of who I am."
"No more doubts?"
"No more doubts." Blair dropped his hand from Jim's face and stared up intently at his friend, partner and sentinel. "So, you ready to take that trip with me now?"
Jim laughed and reaching down, brushed back the hair that had fallen across Blair's forehead. "Anywhere you feel we need to go, Chief. I'll be right beside you."
Blair closed his eyes again. He was warm, content and he knew it would be only moments before he slipped into an exhausted slumber. He opened his eyes to find Jim staring down at him with surprised awe, a pleased smile on his face. "Jim? What is it?"
Jim reached out and placed his palm on Blair's chest, across his heart. "I just realized," the sentinel whispered, grinning from ear to ear, "I can hear your heartbeat."
Blair stood outside the university office of his friend and mentor, Eli Stoddard, and stared forlornly at the burnished mahogany door in front of him. He ran his hands nervously up and down the front of his blue jeans then took a couple of deep, calming breaths.
You've known him for years, Sandburg, he chided himself. This shouldn't be this difficult...
But it was difficult. As well as he knew Dr. Stoddard, Blair still didn't know exactly what to expect once he stepped inside. It had been weeks since he'd spoken to his mentor--long, difficult weeks in which he'd ignored the professor's phone calls and avoided him at all costs. In his heart Blair believed the professor understood and would forgive him, yet...the young man was shamed by his lack of what Naomi would call "the most basic of common courtesies."
Drawing in another deep breath, Blair reached out, tapped lightly at the door, and pushed it open. He stepped in quietly and allowed the door to close softly behind him. The chancellor sat behind his desk, reading glasses perched on his nose, eyes wide at the sight of Blair standing at his door.
"Blair," the older man breathed out, removing his glasses and rising. Fondness colored his dark eyes and genuine pleasure curled his lips into a warm, welcoming smile.
And in that moment, Blair realized just how much he had missed this man. "Dr. Stoddard," he began, then stopped. Words failed him. How could he adequately apologize for what he had done? Uncertainly, he stepped forward. "I... I..."
He dropped his gaze to the plush gray carpeting for a moment and when he looked up again, he found that Eli had crossed the room and now stood before him.
"It's good to see you, Blair," the professor said, offering him a soft smile. "Jim called yesterday to let me know the two of you were home. I've been hoping you'd come by to see me."
Blair forced himself to meet Eli's tender gaze. He shrugged apologetically and felt his eyes mist with tears as he studied his mentor. "I should have come long before this, Dr. Stoddard...." Again, words failed him, and he held out his hands in an imploring gesture. "I...I don't know what to say...."
Blair's statement elicited a small chuckle from the professor. "Well, now, I'd have to say that's a first, my boy," he teased tenderly. Then, stepping closer to Blair, he extended his arms. With a grateful sigh, Blair closed the gap between himself and the man who had been the closest thing to a father he had ever known. He allowed himself to be engulfed in Eli's warm embrace and returned the hug with equal warmth and gratitude. He took comfort in the feel of the strong arms around him, in the lingering aroma of pipe tobacco that clung to the professor's hair and the wool jacket he was wearing.
"I have been so worried about you, Blair," Eli spoke close to his ear. "First the death of those boys and then that plane crash.... You know how to give an old man a few additional gray hairs, don't you?"
Blair laughed softly into Dr. Stoddard's shoulder, gave his mentor a final, lingering squeeze, then slowly moved back so he could look into the professor's face. Eli kept his hands on Blair's shoulders and gave him a heartening smile.
"I...I came to apologize to you," Blair began, "for not answering your calls. For not coming to see you."
Eli shook his head. "I understand why you couldn't see me. You know that, don't you?"
Blair nodded.
"The guilt over the death of those boys was never yours to carry, Blair. But I understand how you would carry it all the same. Just as I did."
"I know.... And that's what makes it even worse that I didn't come to see you. I knew you were having a hard time dealing with what happened, too--"
"The important thing," Eli cut in, squeezing Blair's shoulders, "is that you're here now."
Blair sighed softly. "Thank you, Professor."
Eli smiled and dropping his hands from Blair, gestured toward one of the leather chairs that sat in front of his desk. "Please. Sit. We have much to discuss, do we not?"
Blair chuckled lightly. "More than you know." He moved to the chair near the bookshelves and lowered himself into it. Eli followed him and took a seat in the chair next to his.
"So, my young shaman," Eli began with a twinkle in his eye as he leaned over to pat lightly at Blair's hand, "where shall we begin?"
Blair smiled as he thought of the incredible journey he and Jim had just taken together--the spiritual pilgrimage that had banished Blair's fears and verified his purpose in Jim's life as guide and as shaman. "Well," Blair answered after a few seconds, leaning forward and fixing Eli with a mischievous grin, "I have quite a story to tell you. Do you have a little time?"
Eli smiled broadly and nodded his head. "For you, my dear boy," he said affectionately, squeezing tightly at the hand beneath his, "I have all the time in the world."
The End

