
Note: This story originally appeared in The Sentry Post, Vol. 2
DOWN!By Debbie Pack
"Mayday! Mayday! This is Nancy, King, Ida, Three, Four, Six. We are experiencing engine trouble. Can anyone here us? Repeat....Mayday! Mayday! This is Nancy, King, Ida, Three, Four, Six. We are experiencing engine trouble. Can anyone here us?"
The engine of the little plane coughed again, this time with a finality and died. The pilot frantically began once more pushing buttons, twisting dials and begging the aircraft to restart. Finally, he shook his head in regret.
"Get your heads down gentlemen, just as I showed you," he called over his shoulder through the doorway separating the cockpit from the passenger section, "We're going down." He flipped a switch on the radio again, as his eyes began searching the mountains below for any available clearing he could find to try and land the plane. "This is Nancy, King, Ida, Three, Four Six. If anyone can hear us. We have engine trouble and are making an attempt to land. Our locations is approximately 100 miles east of Glidden Field...."
Blair Sandburg listened as Mike Ryan continued with the mayday call, giving the longitude and latitude for the benefit of any Search and Rescue team that, hopefully, was listening. Why, oh why had he thought this would be a good idea. It had to be some powerful deity that he had royally pissed off to come up with a revenge this wicked.
He glanced over at Jim to see how the detective was dealing with their current situation and was amazed to see his partner smile reassurance at him. Blair smiled back nervously and turned away, feeling his face redden. Ten minutes ago he had panicked, hyperventilating until Jim coaxed him back to coherency with calming words of encouragement. It's okay, Chief. Calm down and breathe slow. That's it. Nice and easy.
He forced himself to take another slow, deep breath, holding down the embarrassment he felt. Unfortunately, he shuddered when he exhaled. He was still scared out of his wits but at least he could take a breath now. He felt Jim reach over and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Blair looked back up and saw Jim nod. The look on his face said a thousand time more than words could at this moment. We're in it again, Chief. I know it looks bad and it may wind up being bad but no matter what happens, I'm here. Blair closed his eyes in gratitude. Strangely, he felt better as he prepared himself for the crash landing.
Jim couldn't help but admire his partner. Had it not been for Jim's friend they wouldn't have been on the small plane from Spokane.
The trial he'd been subpoenaed to testify at had ended earlier than expected. Jordan Sinclair had been a major drug dealer in the Pacific Northwest and Jim had apprehended him in Cascade. Sinclair's attorney had managed to get a change of venue for his client but it had only succeeded in stalling the inevitable. Jim's testimony had been completed yesterday and the jury had returned a verdict in record time. Sinclair had been convicted. Jim smiled inwardly. It had felt good to put the man away, no matter where the trial had taken place.
If only their luck had continued to hold out, he thought regretfully.
Last night he and Blair had tried to reschedule their flight back to Cascade, a full three days before they had anticipated. They had been put on standby for an 8:00 a.m. flight. Unfortunately, that had fallen through and the best the reservationist had been able to do was to schedule them for standby on the afternoon flight.
With several hours of nothing to do but wait, they had decided to hang around the airport area and grab an early lunch at a nearby restaurant that Blair had seen on their way to the hotel when they had first arrived. But, as they were leaving the air terminal, Jim had been hailed and turned to see an old Army buddy of his waving him down.
They had spent the next twenty minutes catching up on what they were doing in Spokane and what each had been up to since their last meeting. When Jim had mentioned their situation, the buddy, Mike Ryan, had offered them a ride to Cascade on the small plane he was shuttling back within the hour. It was an older plane and definitely not first class but it would be empty except for himself and he would welcome the company. Jim had hesitated knowing the small plane would only intensify Sandburg's fear of heights. He knew larger planes were a trial for the grad student at the best of times, but as long as his partner didn't look out the windows while in flight he usually managed to control his fear. Small planes on the other hand, were a different matter. He had been ready to refuse when Blair had spoken up and agreed to the offered flight home. Jim had turned to him in surprise, his eyes asking if Sandburg was sure he wanted to try. Blair had nodded with the confidence that he could handle the flight and Jim accepted the ride for them.
They had run into a storm half way back and had routed north to skirt the turbulence. Jim had maintained a close monitor on his partner's heart rate and breathing. Despite Blair's reassurances that he could handle the flight, the younger man had been pale and unnaturally silent since leaving the airport in Spokane.
Jim turned his attention back to the view outside his window. He had recognized Glacier Peak in the distance the first time the little plane's engine had coughed. In his mind's eye he formed a map of the area. Glacier Peak was in excess of 10,000 feet. Not as high as Rainier but definitely less accessible from the ground. He shook his head, this was not good. They were still east of the Cascade Range and the Snoqualime National Forest. He had prayed the engine trouble was only momentary and would not be repeated. When it coughed a second time and Mike had begun coaxing the engine at a frantic pace, he had flashed a look at Blair. Jim hadn't thought it possible but his partner's face was even more pale than before, and now his eyes were wide and staring. If they survived this and Blair didn't go catatonic on him, it would be a miracle and a half.
They began preparations for the crash landing as Mike had instructed. Jim watched his partner from the corner of his eye. Blair was moving a little slower than normal and his actions were more clumsy. He was almost paralyzed with fear but Jim was please to see he was at least making an effort. In a relatively short amount of time they were as ready as possible.
Jim checked to make sure Blair had remained in the appropriate crashed position, took a quick glance past the wall separating them from the cockpit, through the forward windows, then braced himself for the inevitable as he heard Mike shout over the protesting scream of stress to the small aircraft. "Hold on, Jim! This is it!"
Jim tensed as he felt the first branches of tall pines hit the underside of the plane and a jarring shook him all the way to the base of his spine. Amid the chaos he could vaguely hear an involuntary cry from beside him as Blair was shaken by the same force. He wanted to reach out a hand to the younger man and offer some small measure of comfort and encouragement but another jolt from the plane hitting more trees knocked his head against the side wall of the craft and he plunged into darkness.
Simon looked at his watch once more and softly cursed with impatience. When Jim had called to ask him to pick he and Sandburg up at the smaller Glidden Airpark, he had said they would be in by 11:30 a.m. at the latest. Simon had agreed, glad to have his detective back early. To show his appreciation, he had planned to take Ellison and Sandburg to lunch before his 1:00 meeting with the Commissioner, but it was already 11:55 and still there was no sign of the small plane or Ellison and Sandburg. If they didn't land soon, they would have to wait until dinner. Simon swallowed against a rising knot of fear in his throat, determined to hold on to his impatience. A niggle of worry had worked its way into the back of his mind but he refused to give in to it. If he held on to his impatience, he wouldn't have to give in to fear.
The police captain moved to stand before large plate glass windows that looked out on the landing strip. The smaller airport was not nearly a busy as Cascade International but it seemed to be bustling with activity nonetheless. His eyes scanned the horizon in search of the plane. \*Come on Jim. Where are you? Please be okay.\*
"Excuse me. Sir?"
Simon turned at the hesitant voice. "Yes?" The knot in his throat grew and developed a twin in his stomach.
"Are you waiting for Mike Ryan's plane from Spokane?"
Simon nodded, "Yes. I am," he extended his hand with apprehension. "Captain Simon Banks."
"Captain?" the man inquired.
"Cascade Police, Major Crimes."
The man looked even more tense, "Oh...ah...Captain. Could you come with me?"
Simon's stomach finally twisted with force. What ever this man was wanting to tell him was not going to be good. He just knew it.
The first thing that returned to Jim was a deep sense of exhaustion. Whatever he had been doing to cause it couldn't have been good for the human body. He was vaguely certain of that. It felt odd, not being able to remember where he was or what had caused him to feel so tired.
He cast about in his muddled brain for explanations. He was lying on his back and he could feel his gun pressing into his back where it still rested in the holster at his waistband. There was a heaviness across is legs, something warm. They didn't hurt any more than the rest of his body so he felt reasonably sure they weren't injured. An incredible pounding emanating from his temples and he was certain if he opened his eyes it would only compound the pain. Still, he couldn't remain in the dark forever. He braced himself as he forced open his eyes and blinked his surroundings into focus.
He was lying on the floor, looking out through a gaping hole in the side of....what?...a plane. That's where he was, in a plane. Along with the faint light, memory returned. The trial in Spokane, the quick end to the trial and the unexpected flight home with Mike Ryan. Sandburg's... Oh God! Blair! Jim's heart quickened with concern for his partner, as he forced himself to sit up. Blair had been siting beside him on the plane. His partner had panicked, on the verge of hyperventilation. Only Jim's past experience with Blair's anxiety attacks had enabled him to talk his partner back to a semblance of calm. He looked around the littered interior of the plane.
Where was he now? The seat where Blair had been sitting was empty. A half dozen possibilities crossed his mind, one being that Blair had already gotten himself out of the plane. He didn't think the slighter man wouldn't have been able to maneuver him out of the wreckage while Jim had been in an unconscious state. Possibly, he had left him and had crawled outside in search of help.
Jim stared at the gaping hole that had been sheared into the side of the small plane and felt his heart jump into overdrive. What if Blair had been thrown from the plane before it had come to a stop? His heart beat increased again as he frantically began pulling his legs from the debris with agonizing slowness.
A movement from the warm lump lying across his legs caused him to jump in surprise. A moan greeted his ears as he realized what the mysterious bundle was and began pulling rubbish from atop Blair's body.
"Hang on, Chief. Don't move," he ordered, pulling the last of the rubble off his partner and running sentinel sensitive fingers across Blair's back and neck. He sighed in relief as he found no indications of a break or fracture. He'd worry about legs, arms and the ever popular rib area as soon as he assured himself the young man was breathing properly.
"Jim?" Blair croaked, hoarsely.
"Yeah, Sandburg, I'm here," he said, continuing his examination.
"What happened Jim?"
Satisfied there was no spinal injury, Jim patted his shoulder and helped him to sit up. "I don't know exactly," he said, "Mike didn't say what was causing the problem.
Blair was beginning to move around more, disentangling himself from Jim's legs as concern for the safety of the pilot pushed the bigger man toward the front of the aircraft. Jim poked his head past the wall separating the passenger section from the cockpit. He swallowed hard, feeling nausea well up at the sight that greeted him.
Ryan had managed to bring the plane down to a lower altitude and leveled it out enough to keep them from slamming into the mountainside, but the pilot had been unable to prevent the tree branches from coming through the cockpit windows. A three-inch diameter branch had embedded itself into the pilot's chest. The man was long past caring that his last minute actions had saved his passengers.
Jim felt a movement beside him and reached out a hand, trying to keep Blair from seeing the body. Too late.
"Oh God!"
There was a flurry of activity as the grad student backed from of the cockpit and scrambled to the outside of the plane.
Jim found him twenty feet away huddled beside a tree, clasping his arms around his stomach in an effort to prevent himself from losing his breakfast.
"You okay?" he asked, leaning over to check the matting of blood he saw in the tangle of curls on the side of Blair's head.
Blair nodded slowly, "I'm sorry about that, man. I just wasn't prepared...you know?" He stopped speaking suddenly as sad eyes looked up at Jim. "He was your friend."
Jim nodded, "Yeah, he was and he didn't deserve to die like that," his voice trailed off, "Nobody deserves to die like that." He kneeled beside Blair, turning him slightly to get a better look at the source of the blood, "Turn around here and let me look at your head." Blair winced, despite surprisingly gentle fingers that probed the bloody area. "You took a pretty good hit here, Chief. Are you feeling dizzy at all?"
"Man, are you kidding? I've been dizzy since we took off from Spokane. This doesn't seem a whole lot different."
Jim smiled at the quip then released Blair's head and moved to face him as he held up a finger in front of his face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Blair looked up and squinted with a frown. Jim saw the visible effort it required for him to focus his eyes. "One," he said finally.
It was Jim's turn to frown. It had taken Blair a moment to answer him. Not a good sign with a head injury but there wasn't much he could do about it here. Their first order of business would be to salvage what supplies they could from the plane and set up a camp until Search and Rescue could locate them. He would clean the wound and keep an eye on Blair. In all probability, his partner had a concussion and would bear watching until he could get proper medical treatment, but at least the injuries between the two of them had not been any worse. It was too bad about Mike's. Even though Jim had not seen him in several years it was still a loss and a shame.
"Jim?" Ellison was brought out of his dark thoughts by Blair's soft voice. "Hey man, were you zoning on me?" he asked in genuine concern.
Jim shook his head, "No. Just taking stock, Chief," he stood up, "Wait here. I'll be right back." He turned and made his way back to the plane before Blair could argue with him and returned within a few minutes with the first aid kit.
Blair sat as patiently as was possible for him while Jim cleaned the gash on his head. "You...ouch...you have any idea what happened to the plane?"
Jim shook his head while he continued with his task, "No. Mike had said something about the engine recently being repaired but...."
Blair pulled away from Jim, his face paling and his eyes demanding, "He did what!?"
A grimace crossed Jim's face. "Did I forget to mention that?" he asked innocently, then attempted to cover the statement with a shrug of his shoulders. "He said it had been repaired."
Blair's eyes widened as he felt his blood pressure escalate, "Evidently, not well enough," he said in disbelief, then sighed in exasperation, "Man, I can't believe you. You let us catch a ride with a guy you haven't seen in God knows how many years on a broken down piece of......"
"Will you calm down, Sandburg. It had been fixed." Jim's tone was edging toward impatience.
"You want to tell that to your friend Ryan?"
The moment he said the words, Blair regretted them. It wasn't Jim's fault the plane had crashed. Hell, it probably wasn't even the pilot's fault. He was just taking his nerves out on Jim and he could see by the look on his partner's face that the words had hurt his friend.
"Hey," he said softy with regret, "Jim. I'm sorry, man. I shouldn't have said that. I was out of line."
Jim nodded his head in acceptance. He knew Blair was still feeling the aftereffects of the close brush with death they had experienced and he knew his partner didn't mean the hurtful words. "It's alright, Chief. We're both a little tense right now."
"Still, man, I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Just let me finish here," he said turning Blair's head back to finish cleaning and dressing his wound.
With the exception of Mike's death, they weren't really in that bad of shape. Both of them had escaped with apparently minor injuries. Jim would keep a close watch on Blair for any sign of problems but otherwise, they had been incredibly fortunate, especially in light of their usual run of luck. Jim shook his head as he continued to work. It seemed to him that his partner had a natural ability for seeking out trouble. Jim often wondered if his friend got into as much trouble before he had partnered with him as he had since. He suspected he did, only a different breed of trouble. Blair just seem to be one of those individuals who attracted misfortune.
Jim put the finishing touch on the bandage then turned the younger man back to face him. "Still dizzy?"
"A little, but not much."
"Okay, you rest here," he said patting the anthropologist's shoulder, "I'll be back in a bit."
"Jim. I can help," Blair said, starting to rise.
The detective pushed him back to the ground, "Not yet, Chief." He looked hard into Blair's eyes with meaning, "I can do this alone. You wait here."
Blair's face paled as he realized what Jim was going to do. He nodded quietly, settling against the tree once more and concentrating his efforts on not listening as his friend removed the pilot's body from the plane.
Jim finished the gruesome task and returned to the spot he had left Sandburg. He felt his heart jump as he rounded the back edge of the plane. The younger man's head was slumped forward on his chest. Jim hurried to his side, cursing himself for not paying closer attention to his partner's heartbeat. He listened carefully for a moment before placing a hand on the slender shoulder. The beat was strong. Jim breathed a little easier and gently shook him awake.
"How you doing, Sandburg? Still dizzy?" Jim's brow creased with concern. Had he let Blair slip into an unconscious state? It had taken him longer than he had expected to dig down enough with the crude shovel he'd made to bury Mike. He had debated on whether or not to bury the body or simply wrapping it in a tarpaulin until help arrived, but in the end he had decided the burial would be best for everyone concerned. There was no telling how long they could be there before rescued and he didn't want any wild animals to be attracted to the smell of blood, but mostly he didn't want Blair to have to deal with seeing the dead body every time he turned around. The kid was shaky enough, Jim didn't want him obsessing over Mike's death. Jim stared harder into his partner's eyes. He had fallen asleep but had seemed to wake fairly easy.
Blair shook his head, "Not so much now," he said pushing himself to his feet, "You done?"
Jim nodded as he helped him stand. "Yeah." He forced Blair to look at him, "If you start to feel dizzy, sick to your stomach or your head starts to hurting, you let me know. Immediately." he finished with emphasis.
"Hey, man. Dizzy's a natural state for me. I'm operating on home ground here."
Ellison gave him a stern glare. "Sandburg," he growled.
Blair gave him an indulgent smile, "Sure thing, Dad."
Jim felt his stomach muscles ease for the first time since regaining consciousness in the plane. If Blair was able to give him a smart-mouthed reply, he felt better about his condition. "Come on," he said, smiling as he gripped the young man's arm and steered him back to the plane, "let's see what we can salvage. It may be a while before Search and Rescue shows up."
After they had managed to salvage everything usable from the passenger area of the plane, both men worked to clear out enough room inside the wreckage to make a fairly comfortable sleeping area. Jim had already checked and found the radio was smashed beyond repair. There was also no hope for the planes engine, but Jim had been reassured there was no danger of an explosion. At least they would have a fairly secure and dry place if they weren't picked up by nightfall.
Jim stood outside the plane and looked at the sky once again. He had kept an eye to the northwest throughout the afternoon as a slightly heavier feeling had crept into the air. There was a front moving in, possibly another storm. It was only a question of time before the temperature began to drop. He knew he shouldn't have been surprised. It was the middle of September and parts of the mountains had already received snow. He glanced at Blair as the anthropologist still rummaged around toward the front of the plane. Jim hoped Search and Rescue arrived soon. Neither he nor Blair were dressed for cold weather.
Jim looked at his watch, amazed it was still functioning. The plane was due to have landed an hour ago. Even if their final mayday calls had gone unheard Search and Rescue would be up by now. It was standard procedure. He was glad he had called Simon to meet them at the smaller airport before leaving Spokane. Even though it would make his captain worry, it was nice to know there would be someone among the team to make the search a little more personal.
He rubbed at his stomach as a growl reminded him that it had been early morning since they had last eaten. When he and Blair had searched the wreckage they had found nothing edible. It looked as if they would get a little hungry before they were found.
Jim stopped and smiled to himself. Then again, maybe not. Blair was always going on about what plants were edible, nutritious or medicinal. He'd get the anthropologist to scout up something edible. A smile made to his face as he anticipated Blair's enthusiasm at that task. He was eternally trying to get Jim to try what he called the more 'natural' foods available. This was a chance for the grad student to show off his knowledge of natural cuisine.
A distant echo drew his attention as he focused his hearing and smiled once more. There was a stream not too far away. Maybe he could add a fish or two to Blair's contribution.
A soft breeze whispered through the upper branches of the pines bringing the first faint traces of a chill. If they weren't found by nightfall, they'd need a fire for warmth. He sighed and turned away to begin gathering wood.
Blair sat back on his heels as he continued to search the inside of the plane for any small items they may have missed that could prove useful to them. It was darker inside now since Jim had used parts of the metal from the craft's wing to cover the gaping hole in the side. At least they would have a warm place for the night if they needed it.
He paused a moment and warily eyed the cockpit from beyond the wall. He had purposely avoided looking into the front of the plane, knowing he would still see the traces of blood that had been left behind. He shook himself. Now was not the time to freak out. He had to deal with their current situation. Sure the plane had crashed, but he and Jim were alive. That had to add up to some good karma from somewhere. Didn't it? He'd already let Jim do most of the heavy work, keeping his head conveniently turned away from the wreckage as Jim had dragged the man out of the plane...\*alone\*... and buried him....\*alone\*..., then had even managed to clean up most of the blood....\*again alone\*. Blair had to start pulling his weight. He couldn't let Jim keep carrying the responsibility for their survival by himself. This was a partnership and that meant shared responsibility. Now was a good time to start. He took a deep breath, pushed aside the lightheadedness that threatened to overcome him and crawled through the doorway to the cockpit.
Blair held down the rising nausea he felt as he searched under both seats and what compartments he could find. His search turned up a few items; a flare gun, maps, a hunting knife and a variety of other items that should be helpful until their rescue. He began backing out of the cockpit with his collection when he spotted what looked like a metal thermos lodged up against the underside of the instrument panel. He stretched forward with anticipation. If it was a thermos and Ryan had filled it before they left, it might still have coffee in it. Maybe he and Jim could enjoy at least one cup of hot coffee.
Even stretching as far as he could, his fingertips barely touched the cylinder. He backed up a little and braced his knee against the seat then pushed himself further forward until he was able to wrap his fingers around the narrowed neck and pull.
The thermos came free and rolled toward him, but instead of the sloshing sound he had hoped for, it rattled. Curiously he snatched it up and removed the lid.
Blair's mouth fell open as he emptied the contents into his hand. With his heart pounding he replaced the contents and scrambled out of the plane to find Jim.
"Jim!" he called excitedly, looking around at the empty clearing. After a moment the cop reappeared, a look of concern on his face. "Jim! Look at this!" Blair said, running to meet him, eyes wide with excitement as he reopened the thermos and tipped it up to display a handful of gems for the detective. "Are these what I think they are?" he asked in wonder.
Jim stared at his partner's outstretched hand for a moment. His thoughts darkened as recognition dawn on him, then nodded. "I'd say that's about ten million dollars worth of diamonds," he said shaking his head.
Blair eyes grew impossibly larger. "Whoa!" he grinned at the thought of holding that amount of money in the palm of his hand then paused, looking at Jim with a frown curiously, "How'd you know the amount?"
Jim sighed, "There was a breakin at a diamond exchange in Chicago a couple of weeks ago. Ten million dollars worth of diamonds disappeared," he motioned for Sandburg to place them back into the thermos, "These are probably them."
"Oh, man.," Blair breathed in amazement, "Ten million dollars. Man, can you imagine how much research can be done on that kind of money?"
Jim smiled at his partner. Trust Blair's first thoughts toward the money to be academic. His thoughts darkened and he frowned, staring at the sight of the plane wreckage as a realization struck home with him.
The presence of the diamonds could only mean one thing. Mike Ryan and his shuttle route were being used to smuggle the stolen diamonds out of the country. The diamonds being in the thermos in the cockpit pointed to Mike as being involved in the theft of the gems. Evidently, his old buddy had changed more than Jim had expected.
Jim frowned as he considered the presence of the diamonds. This changed his and Blair's entire situation. There was no doubt that Ryan's cohorts wouldn't linger in Cascade once they realized the diamonds weren't going to show up. They would immediately begin back tracking and if they arrived here before Search and Rescue..... Jim let the thought trail off. The thieves involved in the diamond heist had already proven themselves to be ruthless. He had no doubt they would eliminate anyone else who stood in their way.
"Jim?" Blair asked, the wistful smile from the imagined research money fading from his face, "What's wrong? What is it?"
"Come on, Chief," he said physically turning Blair and ushering him back toward the plane, "We're getting out of here."
Blair stopped and ducked out from under Jim's hands, "Why? What's wrong?" he asked with a frown.
Jim expelled a patient breath, "If you were expecting a plane to land carrying ten million dollars worth of stolen diamonds and it didn't, what would you do?"
Blair's face paled, "I'd go looking for it."
Jim nodded, "And I don't think you'd want any witnesses left behind."
Realization dawned on Blair, "They've already killed for these haven't they?" He stared at the container with a look of revulsion.
Jim clinched his teeth, his eyes fixed on his partner, recalling the report he had read last week. As much as he would have liked to keep the more gruesome aspects of his job from the younger man, sometimes it was impossible. "Three people," he said, "A security guard at the exchange and two employees who happened to be dedicated enough to pick that night to work late."
Blair stared at the thermos he held then shivered as he handed it to Jim, "I think you'd better hang on to these."
Jim took the container as his partner turned away and returned to the plane. He understood the younger man's feelings.
Simon leaned over a map of central Washington as the man beside him pointed to a section marked with a huge 'X'.
"They've completed the search of this area." Paul Watkins told him, "Now they'll move here."
The area he indicated was the Snoqualime National Forrest. Simon frowned in concentration. "This is where they lost contact?"
Watkins nodded, "Just east of there. The mayday call was picked up briefly by a ham radio operator. He said they reported being approximately a hundred miles east of the field. Factoring in the possibility they may have been able to get a few more miles out of the plane, we figured they should have gone down in this vicinity. Search and Rescue began at the first call point. Now they'll move here."
Simon studied the area on the map where Watkins was pointing. Ever since the air traffic controller had broken the news to him about the loss of contact with the plane, Simon had held on to the hope that Jim and Blair would come strolling into the airport with some simple excuse about the radio in the plane going out. But as time had dragged by and no word of their whereabout came to him, he had been forced to face reality. "What are their chances if they survived the crash?" he asked.
"You tell me. You know them better than I do."
Simon was thoughtful, "Ellison survived a crash in the jungles of Peru for eighteen months. If he's alive, he'll make it out."
"What about Sandburg?"
Simon smiled, "If Ellison survived, there's no way in hell he'd come out without the kid."
That was something Simon was certain of. There was no way on God's green earth that Jim would come out of those mountains without Sandburg, or...he thought...Sandburg's body.
"Captain Banks," Paul Watkins was solemn-faced. "What if your man Ellison didn't survive but his partner did? Would Sandburg be able to take care of himself until help arrived?"
Simon thought it over carefully. He knew they teased Sandburg unmercifully about his seemingly lack of sense of direction but for all their talk Simon knew the kid had more than a little knowledge and experience in wilderness survival. Plus, Blair had a habit, or some had called it a knack, for getting himself out of difficult or dangerous situations. Regardless of what name was put to it, Sandburg was capable of taking care of himself. He had proved that on numerous occasions. "Yes. He could take care of himself."
They were still studying the map when the door to the operations room opened and a middle-aged man in a dark business suit entered. Watkins looked up at the interruption, a touch of annoyance crossing his face. He didn't recognize the man and resented the stranger's entrance without knocking. Simon on the other hand, didn't recognize the man by name but knew from his demeanor what he was. His stomach tightened one more notch.
"Gentlemen," the man said approaching the table separating them and extending his hand in greeting. "District Chief John Thompson. FBI."
Watkins looked hesitantly from Simon to the agent. "What can I do for you?"
"I apologize for the abrupt entrance but we're a little pushed for time."
"Pushed for time on what?" Simon prompted. Watkins took a small step backwards, content to let the police captain and the FBI agent argue over jurisdiction if they needed to. His responsibility was to the downed plane and its pilot.
Thompson pointed to the map still spread before them. "I understand you have Search and Rescue up already."
Simon felt his stomach begin to churn. If the F.B.I. was interested in the plane carrying Jim and Blair, it could only spell trouble for the pair.
"Which way are we going, Jim?" Blair asked a short time later, hefting his backpack to his shoulder.
Ellison looked up from the map he was holding, to the not-to-distant mountain peaks. "If I'm right, that..." he pointed to the south, "should be Glacier Peak."
Blair followed his line of sight, "Okay. What does that mean?"
"It means we have a choice, hotshot. We can either continue west toward Silverton or head back east to the Chelan Lake. It's about the same distance either way."
Blair studied the map from Jim's side, "Not much of a choice, is it?"
Jim shook his head, "Not really," he paused to fold the map down to a smaller size, "but according to the map there should be an old logging road about fifteen miles west of here. If we can hit that, the travel should be fairly easy afterwards."
"Where will it take us?"
Jim ran a finger across the map following the road carefully, "Looks like it will take us by Pugh Mountain. After that we can either stay with the road or cut across country straight into Silverton," he folded the map and stuffed it into his pocket, "What do you say? Are you game to continue west?"
Blair looked toward the west, "Well, if we go west, at least we'll be that much closer to home," he said after careful contemplation.
"Okay. West it is,." Jim looked at Blair's backpack and then to the small shoulder bag they had scrounged from the plane that he carried. They had placed the thermos containing the diamonds in Blair's sturdier backpack. "Are you ready?"
The younger man glanced around their surroundings to the opening of the downed aircraft, then nodded before looking up at his partner with worried eyes, "They're going to know we were here," he stated.
Jim nodded, "Yeah. They will, but we've put down enough false trails leading out of here that it'll take them a while to figure out which way we went. We'll cover our tracks for a good long ways as best we can. It won't stop them but at least it will slow them down, maybe long enough for us to reach help ourselves."
"What about Search and Rescue? It'll throw them off too."
Jim shrugged. "Can't be helped. We'll have a better chance of getting out of this alive if we can slow down or avoid Mike's partners." He surveyed the clearing once more, "We've got a couple more hours of daylight, let's get as far away as we can."
Blair nodded and followed Jim through the trees.
Simon watched with a heavy heart as the thick forest of the Snoqualime National Forest passed beneath the helicopter.
Two hours ago they had been notified that the wreckage of the plane had been located. The FBI agent had quickly arranged for transportation to the sight and had surprised Simon with an invitation for him to come along. Simon had not wasted any time in accepting. In his experience, it was unusual enough for the FBI not to block involvement by local authorities in any case they were investigating, let alone invite them along for the ride. Simon knew he would have found a way to the crash site regardless but was thankful the agent has seen fit to include him.
District Chief John Thompson had turned out to be different from the FBI agents Simon had dealt with in the past. The man was obviously good at his work but he was also capable of accomplishing his assigned tasks without alienating the rest of the civilized world.
Before they had left Glidden Field, the man had made apologies to Paul Watkins for his abrupt manner and during the entire time had treated Simon as an equal, not an outsider. That fact alone was unusual in Simon's experience with the FBI. He smiled to himself. He liked the agent and knew Jim would too.
His smile saddened as he watched the forest become more and more dense. He found himself offering up a small prayer for the safety of his two friends, something, he reflected, he found himself doing often in the last year and a half. He shook his head in wonder. What couldn't Ellison and Sandburg get themselves into? Between serial killers, international hitmen, rogue CIA agents and the miscellaneous military intelligence branches that seemed to have cropped up over their association, it was a wonder either of them were still alive to worry about.
Simon's smile faded as he remember there had been no word of survivors from Search and Rescue.
From the moment they had left the small airfield in Cascade, Simon had felt a lead weight settle over him. What would he do if Jim and/or Blair were dead? He shook his head sadly. It just couldn't be. The idea of those two incredible lives being extinguished before their time was not a possibility. He had to hold on to the belief that they were still alive. He had to. He wished he had asked Taggart or Brown to come along; just in case, but knew as he voiced the thought to himself that it hadn't been a possibility. He had been fortunate to receive the invitation in the first place. There was no way he had been willing to risk the chance of getting to the crash site as soon as possible, but now, he was having second thoughts about not bringing one of his own men with him. If they arrived and found only bodies, he didn't know if he'd be able to handle the grief alone.
From the corner of his eye, Simon caught a glimpse of Thompson's face. The man seemed to be lost in thought but every once in a while, Simon would see him rechecking the map he held in his lap against the landmarks they were passing.
He had told Simon that the pilot, Mike Ryan, was in actuality, an F.B.I. agent and that he had been working undercover to establish himself as a goods smuggler with the small puddle jumper service he provided. Two weeks ago, Ryan had been contacted about transferring stolen diamonds to a contact in Cascade. The Bureau was certain the theft had been part of a scheme by Xavier Whittaker, the top man at Excelsior Diamonds, to embezzle the company and plunge it into financial ruin. However, the man was considered above reproach and had enough influential friends in strategically placed political jobs to have the FBI discouraged in the pursuit of that line of investigation. Nevertheless, the Agency had continued covertly and had been rewarded when Ryan had contacted Thompson to tell him of the transfer of the gems. The tricky part had been that they had to catch Whittaker with the diamonds or there would be no case.
Simon had questioned why Ryan had offered Jim and Blair the ride in his plane from Spokane if the man was supposed to be undercover. Thompson told him that Ryan often took passengers on the runs he made between Spokane and Cascade and the exchange of the diamonds was to have taken place at a hotel in Cascade away from the airport. Nothing would have been out of place for him to have two passengers this trip.
Simon hoped the undercover operation could continue as planned, but more than anything else, he hoped Jim and Blair were alive.
The afternoon became warm despite the earlier cooling breeze Jim had felt. There was another storm coming, but it would be delayed. He frowned at the thought of the two of them being caught out in a fall storm.
The jackets both men wore had been removed as the heat built during the afternoon hours, and Jim deliberately slowed his longer-legged pace to accommodate Blair's shorter stride. Sandburg was holding his own but Jim knew the thinner air in the higher elevation would rapidly take it's toll on both of their strength and they would need to conserve their energy for the rougher terrain ahead.
He had kept his hearing partially tuned to his partner, monitoring his breathing and heart beat, prepared for anything other than the normal exertion. He still wasn't comfortable with the paleness of Blair's face.
They had been traveling several hours by the time Jim noticed fresh blood on the side of his partner's head. He immediately called a halt for them to rest and felt a slight twinge of anger when he discovered that Blair had realized the wound was bleeding again and had simply been wiping the blood away instead of bringing it to Jim's attention.
\*"It's not that big a deal and I didn't want to worry you,"\* he had said in self-defense.
Jim shook his head and stopped himself from making an angry remark about irresponsible college students. He told himself it shouldn't have surprised him. He knew of Blair's habit of downplaying his own injuries or illnesses. It was one of the reasons Jim felt a constant need to keep an ear turned to his partner. If the stubborn kid wouldn't watch out for himself, then Jim felt it was up to him to do it. He owed Blair the protection.
Sometime during the middle of the afternoon, Jim's enhanced hearing picked up the distant sounds of a helicopter. With the amount of cover provided by the trees, it wasn't hard for them to remain hidden as the copter flew overhead.
Jim had been able to determined it was not Search and Rescue from the markings, but had not been able to glimpse any of the individuals within either. If they were Ryan's partners and they found the crash site, Jim knew it wouldn't take long for them to figure out which direction he and Blair had taken, despite the false trails they had left. They would have to remain ahead of the thieves until they could reach the authorities.
Several hours later, Jim picked up the sounds of a second helicopter approaching from the west. Still unwilling to show themselves until they knew who was in the aircraft, they sought shelter in the protection of the dense pine trees.
It wasn't until the helicopter had already passed that Jim was able to focus his enhanced sight on the cockpit of the craft. His heart had skipped a beat as he thought he recognized Simon Banks among those on board. He hadn't been certain it was Simon and they couldn't take the chance it hadn't been, so he had kept the information to himself. Blair was already exhausted. He didn't need false hope to burden him.
Silently, they continued on.
It was well past dark before they stopped their travel for the evening. Jim had been aware of Blair's increasing difficulty in keeping up for the past hour. Since dark had settled on the area, the younger man had stumbled repeatedly until Jim had instructed him to hold on to his belt for guidance. Blair had been reluctant at first, saying it would slow them down too much. However, he had relented as his partner reminded him of the advantage of his being able to see in the dark and scout the safest route for them while all Blair had to worry about was keeping up with him. It had worked like a charm for them until Blair had begun to falter from fatigue. Jim took note of an increase in his partner's respiration. He had attributed it to their quick travel but now that they had stopped and he realized how tired he was, he knew Sandburg must have been ready to drop from the exertion of keeping up with Jim. For a moment Jim was undecided whether to be angry or proud of the anthropologist. He knew Blair would continue until he dropped from exhaustion and then would still try to get up and continue. His friend just didn't know the meaning of quit.
Jim let his Sentinel eyesight scan the area surrounding them as he took a mental calculation of how far they had come. He nodded to himself after a moment. They had made good time during the afternoon hours and he felt it would now be safe for them to stop for the remainder of the night.
As they rested, Jim felt the sweat cooling on his body and realized for the first time just how much the temperature had dropped. The light jackets they wore were not going to provide much warmth for them once the sun went down. They needed to find shelter for the night.
He listened as Blair leaned heavily against a tree. He could hear the exhaustion in every breath the younger man drew. After the fear of the crash, dealing with the death of Mike Ryan and the knowledge that they could in all likelihood be pursued by killers, it was no wonder he was ready to drop.
Jim continued his visual search of the area. Even though he didn't expect to find something as convenient as a cabin this far up in the mountains, he hoped they would be able to locate a cave for the night. He listened once more to Blair's rapid heartbeat. They could take it slow until they found a suitable place.
"Come on, Buddy," he said reaching down for his partner's arm to help him to his feet once again. "Not much further."
Sandburg looked around at their location as he accepted Jim's offered assistance. "What's wrong with here, Jim?" he asked, gaining his balance.
"Too open," Jim explained, "We can't chance a fire and the temperature up here is already dropping. We'll freeze. Come on," he coaxed, "I think I see something over that way that will do."
Simon watched from the window of the helicopter as they made their landing approach a short distance from the crash site. He'd caught a glimpse of the fuselage as the helicopter had made an initial pass over the area and felt his stomach tighten. Once again, he silently prayed for the survival of his friends.
The helicopter had barely settled before he, Thompson and the rest of the federal agents jumped from the aircraft and made their way toward the two men standing at the edge of the clearing.
A man almost as tall at Simon extended his hand in greeting and spoke above the dying roar of the helicopter's engines. "Chief Thompson?" he asked. Thompson nodded as he continued, all business. "Riker. Spokane office," he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "This is Miller. Search and Rescue."
Thompson shook each hand in acknowledgment then turned to introduce Simon. "Captain Simon Banks Cascade PD. It's his people on board with Ryan."
Riker turned slightly toward Simon, acknowledging him with barely a nod. Simon noted the man displayed the same contemptuous attitude he'd experienced from other FBI agents and wondered if Thompson noticed the slight. He pushed the thought aside as Miller extended his hand in greeting. "Captain."
Simon accepted the gesture and nodded as the group walked toward the crash site. His stomach remained in knots, half fearful of what the men had to tell them.
"What have you got?" Thompson continued.
"So far, one body. Buried in a shallow grave a short distance beyond the site. The medic says it looks like a tree branch penetrated the cockpit window on impact. He probably never saw it coming."
Simon saw Thompson glance his way, "Have you I.D.'d him?"
"Yes," Riker nodded and produced a wallet, opening it up for Thompson to see. "It's Ryan."
Thompson checked the identification before handing it back to Riker with a sad shake of his head, "Where is he?"
"This way."
Riker and Miller lead the rest of the men back toward the crash site and the tarp-wrapped body now lying just within the edge of the clearing. Slowly the cover was pulled back to reveal the grey lifeless face.
Thompson nodded confirmation of the identification then continued to the plane, followed by the rest of the men. "Any sign of the two passengers?" he asked.
Simon was surprised by the cold glance Riker shot him. "No sign yet, other than the tracks out of here."
"What about the diamonds?" Another cold look came his way. "They're missing too."
Simon couldn't help but bristle. He did not like the man's attitude.
They paused as they reached the doorway of the plane, Thompson turning back to Riker. "How well did you search the interior?"
"Preliminary only. I expected you'd want your own men to go over it thoroughly."
Thompson nodded, "Daniels. Take another look. Mike said he was carrying the diamonds in a metal thermos up under the instrument panel." He turned to the rest of the agents, "Walters, the rest of you see if you can assist the search team."
The rest of the agents left as Daniels entered the remains of the aircraft. Thompson turned back to the Spokane agent and the Search and Rescue man. "You said something about tracks?"
Simon saw Riker's eyes on him. "We found tracks leading in all directions." The man once again sent Simon an icy glare. "Looks like someone went to a lot of trouble to deliberately lay down false trails away from the site."
Simon was having a hard time holding down his temper. It was clear by his attitude that Riker believed Ellison and Sandburg had made off with the diamonds.
He was preparing to ask the agent what he was implying when Daniels reappeared in the doorway of the plane.
"Sir?" Thompson ignored the rising antagonism for the moment while he turned back to the young agent, "They're not here."
Simon heard the knowing scoff from Riker and fully expected the federal agent to corner him with a barrage of questions regarding the honesty of his detective team.
Thompson merely shook his head. "Are you sure?"
"Yes sir. I double checked the entire area. It's not here. This is all I found." He held up a single gemstone. Thompson took it from him and placed it in an evidence bag from his pocket as Daniels continued with a hesitant look toward Simon. "I...ah...also found blood stains in the passenger section and Ryan's maps are gone."
Simon's face paled at the news. He had no explanation for the missing men or the missing diamonds but he knew from the circumstantial evidence what the FBI men, especially Riker, must be thinking. He had to admit to himself that if he hadn't known Ellison and Sandburg it would probably have been his suspicion as well. But, he did know the two men and his belief in them remained secure.
"I guess that explains where Ellison and Sandburg are," Riker spoke up from Thompson's side.
Simon turned to the man, his eyes flashing anger, "You're out of line mister and out of your mind," he stated, clinching his teeth to keep from shouting.
"I don't think so, Captain. It's pretty obvious what happened here."
"And what would that be, Agent Riker," Thompson asked, watching the man with barely tolerant eyes.
"Obviously, they found the diamonds after the crash and decided to keep them for themselves. They probably figured it would be weeks or months before the plane was discovered and they would be long gone."
The cold contempt coming from the man made Simon's blood boil. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" he said haughtily. "Ten million dollars is a pretty hard temptation to resist."
"Not to Ellison or Sandburg, it isn't. What you're sugges...."
"That's enough gentlemen." Thompson broke in with a reproachful look to Riker. "Captain Banks. I apologize on behalf of the Bureau for Agent Riker's assumption." The federal chief silenced the agent with a gesture before he could respond. "He has no business making accusations without solid proof."
Despite Thompson's attempts, Riker continued. "I'd think their absence would be pretty good proof."
Thompson sent a glare to the man that could have frozen water. "As I said, without 'solid proof'." He held the outspoke agent's eyes for a moment longer before he burned back to Miller. "How far have your people been able to follow the tracks?"
Miller tried to hide a slight smile but wasn't being very successful. The Spokane agent had been a pain in the ass since he had arrived. The man had attempted to prevent Miller's team from performing their duties in searching for victims from the crash and it had taken a heated radio call from Miller to the Federal Chief before the Riker had allowed the Search and Rescue team access to the site."They've trailed for a quarter mile around the entire area. Whoever laid down those tracks is good and knows what he's doing."
Simon smiled in gratitude at the praise. He knew it had been Ellison's work.
"Can you trail them?"
Miller nodded, "Eventually, but these trails are deliberately misleading. It's going to take a while to sort through and find the correct one."
At that moment one of Thompson's agents reappeared along with another of the Search and Rescue team.
"What have your found Walters?"
"There's another group involved," the man said. Simon and Thompson both stiffened at the news as he continued. "The tracks Search and Rescue have been following have tracks overlaying them. Could be Whittaker and his people."
"Could Whittaker have the diamonds already?" Daniels asked from beside Thompson.
Walters shook his head. "I doubt it. These tracks are too erratic. It looks like whoever it is, is trying to figure it out too." He paused and a slight smile crossed his face. "It's going to be difficult. Who ever left those tracks is good."
Simon felt a strong sense of pride at the seconded compliment. He knew it had to have been Ellison. Sandburg could survive in the wilderness, but Jim was the one with expertise in Covert Ops. "That would be Ellison. He's former Army Ranger."
"Well, the man knows what he's doing." The agent clapped Simon on the back as he returned to join the search team once more.
Despite the confidence he held for his detective, Banks was worried. They had no idea what shape Ellison and Sandburg were in after the crash. What if this Whittaker had already caught up with the two of them. They could both be dead by now.
Thompson stepped to Simon's side. "If Whittaker had the diamonds, he wouldn't have taken the time to track down your people. He's already got his foreign contacts set up. All he'd have to do is get the diamonds to them and disappear. We know he was already planning to do that." Thompson stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment, "Simon. Do you know if Ellison or Sandburg were aware of the diamond theft?"
Banks nodded. "Yes. Ellison was. I gave him the report myself last week."
Thompson spoke to himself aloud, "So if he or Sandburg found the diamonds, he'd figure Ryan was in on the theft and he'd know someone was bound to come looking for their merchandise."
Simon nodded in agreement. "And Ellison's first instinct would be to protect Sandburg and get them as far away as fast as he could. He wouldn't wait around for Ryan's contacts to show up, even if it meant trekking out of the mountains on their own."
Thompson pulled the map he had carried on the helicopter from his pocket and spread it out before them. The light was rapidly fading now but it wasn't quite dark yet. "You know your people. They have a map, ten million dollars worth of diamonds and a pack of killers on their trail. Any speculation on which direction they'd go?"
Simon studied the map before giving the Federal Agent his answer.
"They're about the same distance any direction from available help. If it was me, I'd head west. At least it's that much closer toward Cascade."
Thompson nodded his agreement. "That's what I thought to," he stood and folded the map before putting it away. "Let's grab some coffee. Search and Rescue is having a hard enough time following those tracks of Ellison's tonight. We'll get started with first light." The man paused before speaking again. "Simon. I just thought I'd let you know. I sent Riker back to Spokane."
Simon was once again amazed by the federal agent. "You didn't have to do that John. I know the evidence looked pretty damaging."
Thompson only shook his head. "No. Regardless of the evidence, Riker's attitude was unacceptable. I don't tolerate that type of mentally from my people and I'm certainly not going to accept it from someone else. Unless he can change, I don't have use for him." Thompson smiled, "Besides, the Bureau has a bad reputation in dealing with local law enforcement anyway. I don't need someone like Riker making it that much harder for me."
Simon returned the smile as the federal chief turned and left. Before long his thoughts returned to Ellison and Sandburg. He only hoped he was right and that the two had indeed decided to head west. It would be morning before they could continue the search and if he was wrong, it could mean his friend's lives.
A short time later, Simon Banks rubbed his hands over a weary face and stared into the flames of a campfire as Thompson sat down beside him, offering a cup of steaming coffee.
"Tired?" the federal agent asked.
Simon nodded. He hadn't noticed how tired until he'd sat down a few minutes ago. "More than I realized."
Thompson sipped his own coffee while he too stared into the flames. "So what is the Cascade Police Department doing with an anthropologist on it's Major Crimes staff?" he asked straight-faced.
The question caught Simon by surprise and he choked on a mouthful of coffee. "You don't waste words, do you," he said after regaining his breath.
Thompson smiled without looking at him. "I'm a curious man."
Simon shook his head in wonder, "No kidding."
After a few seconds of silence, Thompson pushed a little more. "Well?"
"You're not going to give this up are you?"
"Nope." He hid a slight grin.
Simon sighed and prepared to justify Sandburg's presence in the Unit with the practiced half-truth once again. Simon was sure the young 'King of Obfuscation' would be proud of him. "He's a Ph.D. candidate doing his dissertation on the sub-culture relationships within the police department and specifically within the high stress unit of Major Crimes. He and Ellison have worked so well together, I assigned them as unofficial partners."
"So he tags along to crime scenes for a dissertation?"
Simon grinned at the thought. Thompson wasn't the first to question Sandburg's presence. "Not exactly. You see, the kid's a genius. He's all the time coming up with obscure facts out of nowhere and they always seem to benefit the investigations." He paused and let a smile cross his face. "At the same time he can also be the most exasperating person I've ever met. But, Ellison's arrest record has certainly been phenomenal since the kid began observing. We've learned to take the good with the bad."
"So why hasn't he gone through the academy."
Simon smiled into the night, "As Sandburg puts it...He won't cut his hair."
Thompson finally turned to look at him, disbelief clearly visible in the flickering light provided by the flames, "You're kidding."
Simon shook his head, "No. Well maybe partly. If it came right down to it, he'd probably go but he's serious about his dissertation and his job at the University. He's content with things the way they are now."
"Maybe he just needs a little persuasion."
Simon turned back to the federal agent. "No John. Don't even think about it. Ellison would be all over you before you could blink."
"Why should he object?" Thompson frowned.
"Because, Ellison sees Sandburg as his responsibility, like a little brother, and he protects him with a fierceness that would put a mother bear to shame. The kid and Jim have shared an apartment ever since Sandburg's place blew up about a year and half ago. Ellison's not too pleased at some of the situations Sandburg gets into but the kid keeps bouncing back in to police investigations anyway. So Ellison protects him as much as he can."
Thompson smile into the firelight once again. "I can't wait to meet this pair.
The shelter Jim located had proved to be only a small cave into the side of a rocky outcropping. Situated ten feet up the side of an incline with three-quarters of the entrance circled by rocks along the outer edge, it was made to order for them. The area in front of the opening was well protected from sight and would enable them to have a fire for warmth without worrying that it would be seen in the dark by their pursuers. The cave was small, barely four feet by six feet but at least it would help keep them warm for the night and dry if the rain started.
Jim left Blair to wait at the base while he checked it out and by the time he'd returned to report all clear the younger man had been half asleep.
"Sandburg," he said, bringing Blair back to wakefulness with a gentle shake. "Come on. Let's get up there and settle in. You can sleep in a minute."
Blair nodded without being able to see Jim's face. "Sure, Jim, what ever you say."
Jim smiled at the trust he heard in that voice. It was a heavy responsibility to know Blair was willing to place his life in Jim's hands but when he stopped to think about it, that's what the student had been doing since they had first met.
They reached the top of the embankment without trouble and both dropped flat with exhaustion, backpack and roll still in place.
"You sure this is unoccupied?" Blair's voice came through the darkness as his eyes hesitantly looked around the dim interior.
Jim fumbled with the strap on his pack, releasing it from his shoulders as he answered, "What's wrong? Don't you want to share?" he asked with a half-grin. He heard Blair struggling out of his own backpack.
"I don't mind sharing, man, but I do mind winding up as a midnight snack for Smokey the Bear. That..," he shivered slightly, "is not in my itinerary."
"Well, I don't think you have to worry," he said, his sentinel vision seeing clearly in the dark, "This place is barely big enough for the two of us. You'd know if Smokey was in here," he finished.
"So, can we curl up and sleep now?"
Jim could hear the hope in Blair's voice and longed to give in to their mutual exhaustion, but survival was something that had been ingrained into him during his army days and he shook his head.
"Not just yet." Blair sighed as Jim reached toward the back of the cave and scooped up a handful of the dry leaves and twigs that had gathered in the deeper area. "How good are you at starting a fire without a match?"
In the darkness, Jim could see a smile cross his partner's face as the younger man reached into the pocket of his jeans. "Not nearly as good as I am with a lighter," he said proudly, holding up a disposable lighter.
Jim grinned back, amazed again Sandburg's resourcefulness, "One of these days, you're going to have to tell me why someone who doesn't smoke carries a lighter."
Blair began building a mound of the leaves and sticks, "I was a Boy Scout, man. Haven't you ever heard of always being prepared?"
Jim couldn't help but laugh, "You! A Boy Scout?"
Blair looked up with mock hurt on his face, "Jim. I'm crushed that you would doubt me."
Jim continued to laugh, "I'm sorry, Sandburg, but the thought of you in a uniform, any uniform, is just not....," his voice trailed off as he searched for the proper word.
"Believable?" Blair helped.
Jim nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry buddy, but that's it. Believable."
Blair sighed, but smiled as the first of the flames began to catch and burn, "It would be kind of far-fetched, wouldn't it? Naomi would have just loved that."
"'Loved' is not what I would have called it."
A fond smile crossed Blair's face as the fire gained strength, "Probably not," he said then look up a Jim from the warming glow, "What now?"
Jim made a move to leave the sheltered area, "You keep that going and I'll be right back." he said beginning to move down the embankment again.
Blair's hand darted out across the small fire for Ellison's arm. "Wait, man. Where're you going?"
"I'm going to collect some wood we can burn. We'll need it."
Blair made an attempt to follow, "I'll help," he said.
Jim stopped him with an hand on his shoulder, "No. You wait here."
"But, Jim......."
"Sandburg," he said in a patient voice, "It's dark, we're in a strange area and we don't need you falling and hitting your head again, besides," he paused with a smile and indicated his eyes. "I have a bit of an advantage over you in the dark." He waited until Sandburg released his grip. "You keep this going and I'll be back in a minute."
Reluctantly Blair agreed and sat back as Jim disappeared into the night.
Before long they had a small but warm fire heating the interior of the cave and a stockpile of wood that should last them well through the night.
The fire they had built inside the cave was moved to the outer edge of their shelter for the night and the small nylon tarp that Jim carried in his pack was placed on the floor to provide a measure of protection from the damp ground. It wasn't the Holiday Inn but it was the best they could do. Neither man had expected to be able to sleep, but the day's events along with a profound weariness won out and exhaustion claimed them in restless slumber.
Sunlight filtered into the cave opening the next morning, straight into Jim Ellison's eyes. With one eye clamped shut, he craned his neck toward the offending sunbeam. Sore muscles protested as he began to shift his position on the ground. He stopped short as he became aware of a warmth nestled into his back and realized that sometime during the night Blair had managed to scrunch himself next to Jim, seeking the additional warmth that two bodies generated. Jim carefully edged himself up and away from the still sleeping young man, regretting the loss of the shared heat himself. He didn't remember Sandburg scooting closer but he did remember feeling warmer during the night than he had expected to feel.
Jim reached back to the remainder of their firewood supply and began stoking the embers to life once more as his partner began to stir.
"Morning, Sunshine," he called softly and watched in amusement as Blair groggily sat up and immediately wrapped his arms around himself.
Grumpy blue eyes glared at him as the anthropologist began rubbing his hands up and down his arms for warmth.
"Morning," he answered without enthusiasm. "I suppose coffee is out of the question?"
Jim smiled in mock sadness, "Sorry, honey. I forgot to go shopping yesterday."
Blair gave him a second glare, "You...are not funny at this time of the morning."
Jim gave a short laugh as he stood. "Come on. Let's see what we can do about breakfast."
Blair frowned as he came more awake, "What are you talking about?" he asked rising as Jim reached for the tarp and began to fold it.
"I can hear a stream about a half a mile from here," he paused, stuffing the cover into his pack before putting it in place on his own back, "I don't know about you, but I could use a drink about now."
Blair gave a little jump and grabbed for his backpack, looking completely awake now. "Oh, hey! Wait a minute," he brought out an empty plastic bottle. "I brought this, just in case," he said, handing it to Jim. "We'll be able to bring some with us."
Jim stared at the empty water bottle with a smile. He remembered Blair buying it back in Spokane before they'd gotten on the plane. His partner was always thinking.
True to his exceptional hearing, a half mile from where they had spent the night, they found a small stream. In the early morning light Jim could see several trout swimming just below the surface. He smiled wistfully as he watched them at the height of their feeding time. Man, what he wouldn't give for a pole and a few lures.
He began to pat through his pockets in search of something, anything, that could be used as a makeshift hook.
"What are you looking for Jim?"
"Something to use as a hook," he explained to his partner. "I don't suppose you have anything on you? A safety pin or something similar?"
Blair pulled his pack off his back and reached inside. He often carried odd bits of stuff in the trusty pack. After a thorough search, the best he could produce was a paper clip. He held it up to Jim apologetically. "Sorry, man. This is the best I can do."
Jim took the clip and began examining it thoughtfully. An idea formed in his head. Maybe if he... Yeah.... He grinned as he reached for a rock the size of his fist and began working the end of the clip back and forth.
Blair watched, impressed as he realized what Jim was attempting. After a moment, he sat down and removed one of the laces from his shoe. If Jim was up for wilderness survival, he was willing to give it a try. He left Jim working on the makeshift hook and taking the knife they had salvaged from the plane, went to a small grove of deciduous saplings and cut two straight branches, approximately one inch round and almost three feet long.
By the time he returned, Jim had finished with the hook and had managed to secure it through the end of the shoe lace. He held it up, eyeing the creation skeptically. Not exactly standard issue but what the hell. It was worth a shot. Besides, if it didn't work he could always try the old standard of 'tickling the fish out of the water'. He looked toward the flowing water and hoped it didn't come to that. The water looked cold.
A shadow crossed his path and he looked up as Blair handed him one of the poles and sat down with the other.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked, nodding at the branch the young man held in his hands.
Blair began cutting away part of the bark at one end, sharpening it to a point. "I thought I'd give spear fishing a try," he said, grinning up at Jim.
"You expect to catch anything with that?" He tried to suppress a grin.
Blair frowned at him, good-natured, "About as much as you do with a paper clip and a shoe lace."
Jim looked thoughtful for a moment. "Good point," he conceded, turning back to his improvised fishing pole, "Now for some bait." he turned his eyes to Blair expectantly.
"Don't look at me, man. I provided the hook and line. You're on your own for bait."
Jim grinned at his partner once more before going to search the surrounding area for something suitable for bait. Neither of their ideas might work but the fact that they were doing something was a relief. It gave them a sense of control over their situation. They weren't as helpless as they had felt the day before.
Jim was trained in the art of survival and Blair was a survivor by instinct. If it hadn't been for the possibility of killers being after them, they would have no problems getting themselves out of their current situation.
Blair finished his whittling then stood and hefted the spear experimentally. "Well," he announced, more to himself. "It's not a Cree fishing spear but...." His voice trailed off as he approached the edge of the stream to try his luck.
To each of their amazement, before long both men had been responsible for one fish each. It wasn't much and not nearly enough to satisfy their hunger but it was certainly better than nothing.
After finishing their meager meal and a quick laugh about Blair needing his shoelace back, they were ready to continue their journey.
"How far to the logging road?" Blair asked settling his backpack in place. When Jim didn't answer him he turned and found the Sentinel in a familiar stance. Blair knew he was listening to something in the distance. "What is it, Jim?" he asked, automatically placing a hand on his partner's arm to anchor him and prevent a zone-out.
Jim held up his hand for a moment more of silence. Blair knew the routine all too well. Jim would tell him what he was hearing when he'd gotten all the information.
After a few moments he turned his head back toward the west, concentrating in that direction for a moment.
"Jim?"
Ellison shook his head to bring himself out of his concentration. "They've found our trail," he said simply.
Blair's face paled. He knew from the look on Jim's face that it wasn't rescue that had located their sign. "How far?"
"Not close. I can hear them but the terrain they have to travel is going to slow them down. The problem is they know what direction we're taking.," he sighed before continuing, "We'll have to do some hard traveling to keep ahead of them." Jim turned to look at his partner, his eyes first landing on the bandage on Blair's head then searching his partner's face, "Are you up to it?"
The younger man nodded with a grin, feeling comforted by Jim's concern. "I'm fine. I've been hit on the head before, remember?" He flashed another quick smile at his partner before starting along their chosen track.
Jim reached for his pack to hide his concern. "I know," he mumbled beneath his breath. "That's what worries me." Sandburg's numerous blows to the head were one of Jim's main concerns regarding the student's well-being.
Blair stopped and turned back to Jim as a thought crossed his mind. "What was that other about?" he asked, nodding his head toward the direction that had caught Jim's attention the second time.
Jim's frown intensified as watchful eyes scanned the western horizon, "We've got a storm coming in," he stated.
Blair perked up, "How can you tell?" he asked, his voice rising as enthusiasm built.
Jim's face softened at his partner's interest. Blair was ever the scientist. "I can feel the change in barometric pressure," he said, using his fingers to imitate touching the air.
Blair's face broke into a wide grin, "Really? That is 'so' cool."
Jim smiled at his partner's excitement but quickly sobered as they began walking, "Not yet, Chief, but it will be," he murmured. If it got very cold, they could be in for more trouble. Neither man was dressed for an extended stay out doors in cold weather. Jim knew he could adjust to it with the help of Sandburg and his imaginary dials. Too cold? Turn down the sensitivity dial, but Blair didn't have that advantage and he was more susceptible to the cold than Jim. "Come on. Let's go." Jim turned Blair around and ushered him ahead of him. They'd have to make sure they didn't waste time now that they knew they had people on their trail.
Hours later they were still going. Jim knew they were still traveling uphill but the rate of incline had slacked off during the past half hour. He paused to catch his breath, hearing Blair stop as well and drop to the ground against the same tree Jim was using for support.
"You okay, Chief?" the detective asked as his eyes scanned the area ahead of them.
Blair was breathing heavy. "Oh yeah," he panted, "I'll make it."
Jim smiled as he turned his hearing behind them. He had been attempting to keep track of the people behind them since he and Blair had started out that morning. At times he'd catch the faint echo of voices but could tell they were still too far away for even his sensitive ears to hear clearly. That was good. It meant he and Blair were doing a good job of keeping ahead of their pursuers. If they could maintain the lead they had on them, there was a very good chance they could reach the authorities before the thieves could catch up with them.
Jim's eyes flicked to the skies. He thought about the first helicopter they had seen pass overhead yesterday. It had to have been Ryan's contacts from Cascade, but as of yet, there had been no indications that they were using the chopper for the search. Whether they were having mechanical problems or the density of the forest was hindering them, it didn't matter to Jim. He was grateful for the break and meant to take full advantage of it.
"Why do you suppose we haven't heard the helicopter?" Blair asked from beside him.
Jim gave a start. Sometimes it was spooky the way Sandburg could almost read his mind. "I don't know. Let's just be glad they're not."
He looked down at his partner. Jim had been setting the pace for them that day and despite the thinner air, lack of food and the stress and strain from the previous day, he was please to see Blair keeping up with him without complaint. Of course that in itself was not necessarily a good thing with Sandburg.
Blair's reluctance to speak up yesterday about the continued bleeding of his injury and Jim's past experience with him made it clear to the Sentinel that the younger man would keep going without complaint until he dropped from exhaustion.
A small frown crossed his face as Jim brought his hearing back to a more normal level. He could hear Blair's heart pounding in his chest and he had noticed him stumbling a few times during the morning. Blair hadn't shown any signs of concussion yesterday, but Jim couldn't help but worry. Concern and protectiveness toward the younger man had become as natural to him as breathing.
He reached into the backpack Blair wore and withdrew the bottle of water they had filled at the stream that morning. They had been fortunate to cross several streams during the day, making water plentiful, however, none of the small streams had been large enough to offer the opportunity for fishing and now both men were once more ravenous. .
"Here," Jim said as he handed the bottle to his partner and sat beside him. It wouldn't hurt for them to rest a few extra minutes.
Blair took the bottle without protest. "I don't suppose you hear anything big enough nearby to have fish in it, do you?" he asked then grinned wearily, "A Red Lobster or a Long John Silver's maybe?"
Jim looked down at him in concern until he saw the gleam in Blair's eye. He smiled in return, "Nope. Not even a Wonder Burger," he said, closing his eyes to rest for a moment.
"Just our luck."
Jim didn't have to see Blair's eyes closing also, he could tell from the sound in his voice the young man was drifting to sleep even as he spoke.
Jim felt the pull of drowsiness flow over him; warm and enticing. He shook himself awake and reached out a hand to do the same for Blair. They couldn't afford to give up any ground to the people following them.
"Come on, Sandburg. Let's go," he said, pulling Blair to his feet.
"Can't we rest a while."
Jim heard the weariness in his partner's voice and debated for a moment the danger involved in extending their rest. They had a descent head start on the men after the diamonds and Jim was reluctant to lose that advantage. Also, he could feel the atmospheric pressure changing and knew a storm wasn't very far off. They needed to make it to the logging road before dark and he wasn't sure how far away it still remained. With regret he gave Blair's arm another tug to start him moving with him. "We'll rest tonight. Now come on. We've got to go."
Reluctantly, Blair followed him.
As they continued on into the afternoon, Jim could feel the storm's approach and he could also hear the men following them with more and more clarity. Jim's heart beat increased at the thought of the thieves catching up to them. Had they gained that much ground on he and Sandburg? He stopped suddenly and felt Blair stumble into him.
"Ow. Sorry, man," the younger man apologized.
Jim instinctively caught him by the shoulders to keep him from falling and motioned him to silence.
Whittaker...telling you...can't...up...directi...trav... Jim shook his head in frustration and tried to focus harder. catch up...have to...soon
The voices were very faint and no amount of coaxing would make them clearer. Still, Jim strained to catch the last of the fading voices until he felt himself being shaken.
With a great effort he brought himself back to the hear and now. He shook his head and forced himself to listen to the panic building in Blair's voice.
"Jim. Come on, man. Jim!"
The Sentinel drew a breath into his oxygen starved lungs and felt Blair, his hands gripping his arms, take a deep breath as well.
"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to that," Blair said, exhaling in relief as Jim came out of the zone-out. "What did you hear?"
Jim continued to watch the area behind them, "Voices," he said absently, "One of their names is Whittaker."
Blair's face paled, "Are they that close?"
Jim shook his head, "I can't tell. I'm getting an echo that keeps bouncing around these mountains. It's hard to even tell what direction it's coming from."
Blair nervously scanned the area surrounding them, wondering if the men were close enough to see them yet? Could he and Jim.....
A group of vaguely familiar bushes caught his eye and distracted his train of thought. After making sure his partner was safely breathing again, Blair stepped away from the bigger man's side.
Jim remained rooted in place, staring toward the landscape behind them. He was still concerned that the men seemed to have drastically closed the distance between them. A closer study of the lay of the land alleviated his fears and brought him a sliver of hope. It was very possible that his hearing improvement had been caused by echos created by the numerous hills and valleys he and Blair had been traversing.
"Hey. Jim. Look at this."
Jim turned his attention back to his partner. Blair stood beside a cluster of bushes, deftly picking at the berries that still clung to inside branches.
"What'd you find?" he asked, joining him.
Blair looked up at him with a grin on his face. He popped another of the berries into his mouth as he held his hand up, offering Jim the ones he held.
"Blackberries," he said, smacking his lips.
Jim smiled at his childlike eagerness. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Look. There's a whole bunch of them inside here." He stuck his arm into the bush again, "You just have to...ouch....be careful pickin'em."
Jim took the handful that Blair offered him. It had been a long time since he had eaten fresh blackberries.
"The last of this years berries," Blair announced as he continued to plunge his arm into the depths of the bushes.
They spent the next half hour picking and eating. By the time they were finished, both were stuffed.
"Oh man. I don't know if it was because we were hungry or if those were exceptional, but I don't remember blackberries ever tasting that good."
They were leaning against a tree, taking advantage of their good fortune and resting while the opportunity presented itself.
Jim stretched his legs out and leaned back against a tree as he rubbed at his stomach in satisfaction. "I used to love visiting my grandmother when the berries were ripe," he said. "She made the best cobbler...," his voice trailed off as he recalled the fond memory.
Blair smiled from beside him where he lay, his eyes closed in remembrance, "I know what you mean. I met this Native American woman in New Mexico about five years ago. She made the most incredible blackberry cobbler."
Jim heard Blair sigh as he settled into a relaxing recline and knew they had to get up and move pretty quick. It was too much of a temptation to fall asleep with full stomachs and they couldn't afford to lose any more ground to Whittaker and his people.
Regretfully, Jim pushed himself to his feet, "Come on, Junior. Let's get this show on the road again." He offered a hand up to Blair and they began walking once more.
After a few steps, Blair halted and turned to face his partner. "Jim," he said, "If at any time in the near future, I say anything, anything at all, about wanting to go camping or hiking, do me a favor and shoot me. Okay?"
Jim smiled as Blair turned away without waiting for an answer and began walking again. "You got it, Chief."
They continued and within another mile they reached the logging road.
"This is it?" Blair asked, turning his head to look both directions of the barely distinguishable roadway. Time and disuse had not been kind. The dirt road was deeply rutted in the spots the forest had not yet reclaimed.
Jim was eyeing it dubiously also. "It must be. The map didn't show any other roads in this area."
"This doesn't look like it's been used in years. Maybe decades."
Jim shrugged. "It probably hasn't. I think logging's been restricted in this area for thirty years or more," He sighed before continuing, "Well, at least it should be easier travel now. Let's go."
Jim began walking once more only to stop suddenly and turn his ear toward the north.
Blair barely avoided another collision with the sentinel, managing at the last moment to stop himself before walking into his friend again. "What is it, Jim?" he asked.
"The wind," Jim commented as he stared into the surrounding tree tops.
At that moment a gust of wind blew through the overhead branches, bending the tall pines until they creaked and groaned under the strain.
"It's here." Jim announced.
"What's here?" Blair's eyes widened.
"The front. Feel it?"
As if in answer to Jim's question, the temperature of the wind cooled by enough degrees that they didn't need sentinel senses to feel the drop.
"Oh, man," Blair grinned. "That feels good."
He turned his face into the wind and closed his eyes in appreciation as the heat from the day and the sweat from his body evaporated.
Jim shot his partner a look of concern. Evidently Sandburg didn't realized the danger the weather was tossing in their path. Jim had previous experience with mountain storms. They hit quick and hard, and at this time of the year one could change from a violent thunderstorm, complete with lightening and torrential rain, to snow and freezing temperatures within a matter of an hour or less. He'd been caught unprepared in one once before and had nearly paid with his life. He had no intentions of doing so again.
He began moving down the roadway, pulling Blair in tow, "Come on," he said above the rising wind, "We've got to find shelter."
The overhead sky had darkened to a premature twilight. The wind continued to increase as they walked but the temperature seemed to have leveled off, at least for the time being.
Jim cringed as the first flash of lightening was immediately followed by a tremendous crack of thunder, grateful he had remembered to turn his sense of hearing back to normal. He didn't need the headache that would have resulted if he had been in sentinel mode.
"Whoa! That was loud," Blair remarked as he involuntarily ducked his head and moved closer to his partner.
Jim's worried eyes turned toward the northwestern sky. Even through the dimming light he could see the dark thunderheads boiling into themselves. He had hoped they would reach some type of shelter before the storm broke but that possibility was rapidly diminishing.
"Mountain storms, Chief. They hit quick and hard," he explained. The sentinel took a chance on using his enhanced eyesight between lightening flashes to scan the area for a possible shelter. But not wanting to chance the temporary blindness he knew would follow if the lightening caught him unprepared, he didn't test fate for long and was unable to locate a quick shelter for them.
Lightening flashed again as Jim nodded his head down the road they were traveling. "Come on, Sandburg. We've got to find someplace out of this storm," he said urging Blair to move forward as he followed.
The wind continued to increase and the lightening and thunder pounded a relentless rhythm. Rain began shortly afterwards and within minutes, he and Blair were soaked and shivering.
Jim winced as the lightening flashed with increasing frequency. Even keeping his eyesight at normal levels, its strobing effects were making it difficult to continue.
Between the claps of thunder and the roaring of the wind, he caught the sounds of his partner's struggle to keep up with him. The exertion was causing Sandburg's breath to come in ragged gasps.
Jim slowed his pace, dropping back slightly to Blair's side and finally putting a hand on his partner's arm to help him along and to prevent them from becoming separated.
The wind howled around them, slowing their progress and making them fight for every step. Through their physical link, Jim could feel Blair's strength ebbing as they both stumbled through the darkening night.
The storm's intensity was frightening as it continued to build. Jim could feel his own heart pounding as the lightening flashed in time to the thunder. They weren't going to be able to continue much further, the storm was too violent and he and Blair were exhausted. Even now he could feel his partner slipping on the rain-soaked ground, unable to maintain his footing. Jim adjusted his hold on the younger man's arm, unconsciously tightening his grip as he searched for a place for them to hold up until the storm was over.
Jim had decided they were going to have to take their chances among a cluster of boulders to one side of the road when a series of prolonged lightening flashes revealed an apparition to him.
Ghostly structures loomed up to their right less than fifty feet away. At first Jim thought he had imagined them, his exhaustion and the lightening combining to confuse his already overworked senses. But another flash revealed the structures again and this time he felt Blair tense as he sighted them also.
"Jim?" his partner called, his voice barely heard above the noise level of the storm.
"I see'em, Chief." They were having to shout to be heard now.
Lightening began flashing nonstop as thunder pounded in a continually roar. Jim didn't think it would have been possible, but the storm was increasing in fury. Both men involuntarily ducked as lightening struck nearby. Jim couldn't tell where it had hit, but knew they had to get in out of the violent weather. He took a firmer hold of Blair's arm and pull the exhausted anthropologist into a run for the safety of the nearest building.
They reached the door of a huge barn-like structure only to find it padlock against trespassers.
Fatigue and concern for their well-being brought Jim's anger to a boiling point as he slammed his fist against the door in frustration. \*What else could possibly go wrong for them?\* He hit the door again and this time felt the flimsy wood shudder. His heart quickened as he realized that it wouldn't take much to break through the rotting boards, but then in the same breath, wondered if the building was going to offer much protection if the rest of it was as weak as the door. He quickly shook his head and told himself that any shelter was better than what they were experiencing now.
He placed his shoulder against the door preparing to shove and felt the warmth of Blair's body next to him as the younger man added his strength to the effort. A quick look showed Jim his partner was determined to help despite his near total exhaustion. He flashed a smile and nodded.
Together they pushed and felt the wood around the locked hasp splinter and give way under the rough treatment of their combined weights.
They stumbled forward, collapsing inside the doorway as the wind roared around them. Bits of leaves and debris followed them in, to be plastered to their faces as Jim ushered Blair further inside and turned to push the door closed behind them. He reached for a stray length of two-by-four lying nearby and used it to prop at an angle against the door, effectively closing it.
With a heavy sigh, Jim leaned his back against the wall, still feeling the wind and small amounts of rain come through gaps in the rotting structure.
The noise level was barely diminished and in the brief respite Jim let his eyes wander around the inside of the barn-like building. His stomach clinched in apprehension. This did not look good at all.
To the back of the building, Jim could see the surrounding tree growth beyond the dilapidated structure when lightening flashed. One portion of the far wall had already collapsed. Brush growing up through the tangle of timbers indicated the fall-in had occurred a number of years ago but Jim still had an odd, uneasy feeling. Maybe he'd been wrong about this being better shelter than nothing. He shivered as thunder vibrated the walls once more. Their meager shelter would have to suffice for now. But Jim knew as soon as the storm let up a little, he would have to search the other buildings and find one that was more secure for the remainder of the night.
His tired eyes sought out his partner in the darkness. Blair didn't seem to have moved since they had fallen through the door. He was still, much too still. Jim's heart raced as he scrambled over to the younger man.
"Sandburg! Chief? Can you hear me?"
Blair slowly turned over as Jim's hands assisted him. "Yeah, man," he breathed, his eyes still wide with shock, "That was just....way...too intense." He looked up at Jim, his face solemn and serious, "I don't like storms."
Jim tried his best not to laugh at the look on Sandburg's face, but the simplicity of the statement he had just made and the look of total terror Jim had seen as they had run for the shelter of the building were too much. "Is this a new revelation?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Blair pushed himself up and began brushing away what leaves he could from his jacket.
"Yeah. Something that just occurred to me," he paused, listening to the roar of the wind and his voice took on a sad note. "You know, I was in Texas once, years ago, with a group of friends. We had stopped at an overnight camping area and this storm came up during the night," he paused and swallowed hard, " It was thundering and lightening and the wind was blowing. It sounded a lot like this, almost as intense."
Jim could tell from his voice, the memory was unpleasant for his friend. "But it didn't last forever, did it?"
Blair's eyes closed as he shuddered. His voice was shaky and distant as he continued, "No. It didn't last forever, but the next morning we found out a tornado had struck just down the road from where we were camped," he raised mournful eyes to Jim, "Three people were killed...an old woman and her two grandkids."
Jim didn't know what to say. Blair always seemed to take things too much to heart. He felt other people's pain deeply. Jim worried that he felt the pain sometimes too deeply.
After a few moments of silence between them, Blair shook himself out of the memory. "What is this place?," he asked.
Jim shook his head, also looking around.
"I'm not certain but it looks like an abandoned saw mill."
"Really?"
"Yeah. During one of the lightening flashes, I caught a glimpse of one of those incinerators they use to burn scrap wood."
"So what do we do now?"
Jim cocked his head to listen as the wind increased again, rattling the door as if trying to gain entrance. "We'd better see about getting comfortable for the night. I don't have any idea how long this is going to keep up."
"What about Whittaker?"
Jim looked thoughtful for a moment then grinned. "This storm will slow them down too and with any luck, they won't have found anyplace to cozy up in..." His voice trailed off as his eyes began searching what was left of the ceiling above them.
The wind had ceased abruptly as if it were taking a deep breath and gathering strength for another onslaught, but in the overwhelming silence, Jim was able to hear the creaks and groans issuing from the rafters above them. He listened a moment longer, stretching his sentinel ability just the slightest, fearful an unexpected clap of thunder would deafen him if he were caught unprepared.
The second he took was enough. He could definitely hear the boards that made up the roof as they strained under years of neglect.
The wind picked up with renewed force and Jim's face paled as he heard the first of the timbers give way. The ancient instinct of a sentinel to protect his partner kicked in and before he was aware he was actually on his feet, Jim had launched himself at Blair, knocking the smaller man to the ground and trying in vane to cover him from the falling boards.
He felt the first of the heavy timbers shake the floor as they hit and felt Blair jerk out of his grasp. Before he could react, an incredible pain flared up his left leg, shooting spikes of agony throughout his entire body. He heard Blair cry out and tried to turn to search for him as the roof collapsed in on them.
The fiery pain of his leg continued to build as the last of the timbers settled. Dust and mold, dislodged from the decaying wood floated down and mixed with the small amount of rain that was coming through the gaping hole left in the roof. Jim fought down the hurt and turned a wary eye toward the roof, curious whether or not anything was left to fall. A black fog floated into his sight from the edges of his vision. Holding his breath against the pain in his leg he saw a good portion of the roof remained and tried to gauge its stability. The rest looked fairly sturdy but he knew they couldn't take the chance more of the structure would not fall.
He spotted Blair's still form nearby and pulled himself forward. The younger man had not moved since he had cried out. Jim reached for the first of the timbers that lay across him.
"San...Sandburg," he called, surprised at his own weak voice. "Sandburg!...\*cough...cough\*... Blair!"
Jim fought against his fading vision, desperate to reach his partner. "Come on, buddy. I need you to help me...out...here. Chief?...."
The dark fog that had been hovering on the edges of his vision closed in. Jim felt himself collapse to the floor, unable to move. From a great distance he heard the storm continue in its fury but he no longer cared. He had lost all interest in it.
Simon watched through the mini-blind as lightening flash off in the distance. The storm front the weather service had been predicting for the past few days had arrived in full force..
"Come on, Simon. Staring out that window isn't going to help your friends. There's nothing we can do until this thing dies down."
He released the blind but didn't move from the window. Thunder continued to rumble and slowly roll away in the distance. The storm was centered in the mountains. Simon shook his head regretfully. With Ellison and Sandburg's luck, it was probably right over the top of the two.
"I know. But it doesn't make me any less anxious about them. I wish we'd made better time today. We might have found them by now," he said regretfully.
Agent John Thompson lowered his head slightly, feeling a large amount of guilt for their wasted time. "I understand and I'm sorry but it couldn't be helped."
Simon heard the note of regret in the federal agent's voice. "I know you did your best, John. I'm not blaming you for that. It's just that....." He shook his head and sat on the edge of one of the two double beds in the room.
"What?"
"It's just.....that if something can go wrong with a situation and either Ellison or Sandburg are within five miles, it will go wrong."
Thompson smiled slightly, "Attract trouble do they?"
Simon grinned in return, "You might say that. I used to think it was all Sandburg's fault. I swear that kid is the biggest 'trouble magnet' I have ever met in my life, but Jim seems to keep getting into just as much trouble lately. I think the kid is rubbing off on him."
Thompson grinned as Simon looked up at him. "From what you've told me about them, they are quite a pair."
"They are for a fact." Simon turned for one more glance out the window before releasing the blind for the final time.
That morning they had been ready to begin their search for Ellison and Sandburg. The plan had been to utilize the helicopter and fly a grid search pattern along the area they knew Jim and Blair were taking. They had not seen or heard another helicopter in the area but had already found tracks indicating Whittaker and his people were on foot.
After a quick call to Spokane by Thompson to alert their personnel at the airport to be on the lookout for Whittaker's chopper, one of the agents had confirmed it had arrived at the airfield late the previous afternoon for refueling and was being detained until further notice by the Cascade agent. Simon had breathed a sigh of relief. Something had finally started going right for them.
He shook his head with regret. He should have know better.
While they had been breaking down the overnight camp, the pilot had been going over his pre-flight maintenance check and had discovered an oil leak in the helicopter. They had called for a backup chopper and been informed that the closest one was over two hours away.
The delay was unavoidable and inconvenient for them, but it could be deadly for Jim and Blair. With the delay, Simon knew the chance of them catching up with the two men before their pursuers was slim. Ten million dollars worth of diamonds would be enough of an incentive to keep Whittaker from giving up the search with or without his helicopter and by now the man had to know the FBI was on to his plans. His only choice now would be to give up or continue his quest for the missing diamonds and eliminate any witnesses before making himself scare.
Simon shuddered at that thought. He knew three people had been killed during the robbery and he didn't think Whittaker would worry about two more lives being added to that count.
While they had chafed under the forced wait, Thompson had pulled out the map of the area and began studying it once again. After a few moments he had stared intently then called Simon over and pointed out an old logging road he had discovered on the map that originated from a small community at the base of mountains. They had traced its path and the path Jim and Blair were apparently on and concluded the two would head for the road.
With no guarantee that the FBI could catch up with Ellison and Sandburg before Whittaker, the decision was made to fly on to the small town, named Silverton, as soon as the backup chopper arrived. They would then take the logging road up into the mountains and try to intercept the two, lending support if they needed it. It was a longshot but it gave Jim and Blair better odds than the federal agents trailing along behind Whittaker or taking the chance of missing them from the air.
Unfortunately, there had been several delays during the day and they had not arrived in Silverton until just before dark. The storm front had moved in, dropping temperatures and firing off thunderstorms with brilliant lightening displays.
Now Simon was straining at his inability to help his friends, but he was glad Chief Thompson was with him. He didn't know what it was about the FBI agent but the man was incredibly easy to talk to. He had proven to be a good listener and Simon found himself telling Thompson about the unlikely pair and their exploits, always careful to leave out Sandburg's real reason for becoming an observer with the police department. He also found himself confiding his fears about his friends to the federal agent.
Simon heard the map being spread out and once again thanked whatever fates had sent John Thompson to head up the investigation that now concerned his friends.
Unlike the majority of federal agents Simon had dealt with in the past, Thompson had gone out of his way to include the Cascade Police Department. He had treated Simon as an equal, not an underling and had also taken into account his personal involvement in the situation.
When they had arrived in the tiny resort town, most of the rooms had already been booked by travelers waiting out the impending storm. The FBI had secured the last of the rooms in one of the nicer motels and set up a headquarters. Simon had been pleasantly shocked when Thompson \*\*had offered the second double bed in his room to him so they could finalize their plans, instead of one of his fellow agents. Simon had eagerly accepted.
"So. What do you think?" he asked, nodding his head to indicate the map.
"I think...if your people are as intelligent and self-sufficient as you've told me they are, they'll have found someplace to wait out this storm and with any luck they'll have reached that abandoned sawmill."
"Can we rely on that information you got?"
Thompson nodded. "I think so. Sam Tucker's lived up here most of his life. He knows the area pretty well. We've used him for information before and it's always been reliable in the past."
"Did he give any indication as to what was still standing up there?"
"No. Unfortunately, no one's been up there in years. Sam said the operations shut down almost fifty years ago and the place had just been left to sit. The last time he was there was maybe fifteen....twenty years ago. There's no telling. But, whatever is left has got to beat being in the open."
Simon stared at the area on the map surrounding the sawmill. "I hope so. I'd hate to be the ones stuck out in the open in that storm."
Thompson began folding the map. "You're a good friend, Simon. I hope Ellison and Sandburg appreciate you."
Simon snorted but grinned, "The only thing Sandburg appreciates is when I'm not chewing his ass out," his voice soften slightly. He couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that kept eating at him. "I hope they're alright."
Thompson walked by and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sure they are. Come on. Let's get a little sleep. We should be able to move out in a couple of hours."
A groan escaped his lips for the second time in forty-eight hours as Jim Ellison awoke to pain. This time, however, it wasn't the dull aching he had experienced after regaining consciousness following the plane crash. This time the pain was sharp and defined, originating in his left leg. He clinched his teeth as another wave of agony rolled over him.
\*God, it hurt. What had hit him?\*
The last thing he remembered was thunder pounding in his head just before everything faded away into darkness.
He forced his eyes open in an attempt to look around. It was still dark, but at least the lightening from the storm was not as bad now and as he listened he could tell it had moved on to the distance. However, the light rain that was falling now carried a chill.
Jim shivered and wondered what had happened to Blair. His partner would be colder now also. Blair hated the cold.
Jim listened for the younger man's heart beat. His own heart rate increased when his search proved futile. In a burst of panic he pushed himself upright, shoving away the stray pieces of lumber that lay across his body. Pain flared from his leg again but he relegated it to the back of his mind. He had to find Sandburg.
He remembered hearing him cry out as the roof was falling in. He'd been hit by one of beams from the ceiling. Jim cursed under his breath as he realized that his own injury was interfering with his concentration. He shivered and forced himself to calm down. He had to find his partner.
\*Concentrate, Jim. You can do this, man.\*
Ellison jumped, startled, and looked around in the near total darkness for the source of the voice he had heard. It had been Blair's voice. He listened again. This time he was able to focus and realized the voice had been in his head.
He listened a moment more, then his breath quickened as he found the soft rhythm of another heart.
Sandburg.
Even though Jim couldn't see Blair, he could tell his partner was unconscious from the slowed rate. He stared into the darkness, opening his eyesight to its fullest potential to search.
The shelter they had sought during the height of the storm was now nearly nonexistent. The floor of the building where he lay was littered with fallen timbers scattered about in haphazard formation. His hearing led him to a pile nearest him. He focused his eyesight on the mound of debris and finally spotted Blair's jacket.
Jim pulled himself to the limp body, heedless of the pain in his leg that continued to slow him down.
Blair had fallen just out of arms reach, but now the distance seemed much greater. Gasping for breath, Jim removed several timbers that lay across his friend's body then paused long enough to visualize the imaginary dials Blair had taught him to use in controlling the agonizing pain. He turned them to their lowest setting, then began carefully removing the final lengths of wood from atop the unresponsive man.
A sense of deja vu hit Jim as he realized this was also the second time in two days he had removed debris from Blair's body. Jim tossed the last of the pieces of the rafters aside, then ran sensitive fingers across his partner's form. More bruising, some of it severe, but still nothing was broken. He breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they'd still be able to get out of this.
"Sandburg," he coaxed.
Jim waited a moment then gently shook the younger man again, "Sandburg. Wake up." He waited as he felt Blair's body tense with returning consciousness. "Come on, buddy. Wake up."
From what seemed like a million miles away, Blair heard his name being called. He wanted desperately to remain in the soothing darkness he'd found himself in. A part of him remember that what waited him beyond the quiet was a body pushed to exhaustion and the ache of constant cold. It was much nicer here, wherever it was he happened to be at the moment. He smiled to himself, enjoying the warmth and comfort he felt.
He fought the reawakening but couldn't stop it. Something in the voice that kept calling him demanded he obey its instructions. Instructions? Not really. More of a plea. The voice was becoming more familiar now. Jim? Yes. That was Jim's voice. Jim was calling him, telling him to wake up. He couldn't ignore that. When he was with Jim he was supposed to obey him. Simon had said so. That was one of the conditions he'd had to agree to before they let him become an observer. If Jim said jump, he asked how high. Jim said to wake up. He had to, there was no choice now.
Jim watched as his partner pulled himself toward consciousness. "That's it, Chief. Come on. Wake up." He lifted Blair's head toward him and ran gentle fingers across his forehead and through the tangled mass of wet curls. He felt warm stickiness and pulled his hand back to reveal fresh blood. Quickly, he checked his young partner's head and found a large swelling along the left side. Apparently one of the pieces of rafter had hit pretty solidly along the same side of Blair's head that had been struck during the airplane crash.
Blair's body jerked as he dragged himself through the last of the fog clouding his mind.
"Easy, Chief," Jim soothed, holding down the pain in his leg and placing a hand on Blair's chest to keep him from rising. He didn't want any rash movements until he was more sure of the anthropologist's condition.
Blair moaned and raised a hand to his head. "Jim?" His voice was weak.
"I'm here, buddy. Just take it easy."
"Oww...what happened?" he asked, trying again to rise.
"Lie still, Sandburg," the cop said firmly.
"What.....?"
"I said lie still."
Jim moved himself carefully until he could look into the younger man's eyes and tried desperately not to aggravate the pain emanating from his leg. "Have you still got your lighter?" he asked, patting down the pocket of Blair's jacket and grunting in satisfaction when he found it.
"Jim...you're scaring...me here. Wha....what is it? What's going on?"
Ellison flicked the lighter into a flame and held it away from his partner's face. Although he didn't need the help of the lighter to see in the darkness, he did need it to gauge the reaction of Blair's pupils to light. "Look at me," he ordered. He knew his voice sounded angry but the effort of keeping the pain in his leg at bay was wearing his temper thin. He'd make time later to answer questions and apologize.
Blair winced as the lighter kicked into life. His head was pounding and the sudden light, however faint, didn't make matter any better. Nervously, his eyes jumped from the flickering light to Jim's shadowy face.
"Wh..what?" he started to ask but even in the dim light he saw a familiar look on his partner's face. Jim was not ready to be questioned. Now was the time to obey.
After a few moments of moving the light back and forth, Jim shut it off. The reaction time was a little slow but there was really nothing they could do about it now. Jim would just have to watch him closely until they could reach help.
Help. Damn. Jim leaned away from Blair and closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. He'd practically forgotten why they were out here in the first place. He couldn't believe that Whittaker and his people had slipped his mind, even for a moment. He reached down to grip his leg as another wave of pain rolled past his imaginary dial. What were they going to do now?
"Uh....Jim?" Blair's voice was soft in the darkness, almost timid, "Can...can I get up now?"
Ellison smiled and wondered if Blair realized that their situation had just taken a nasty turn toward the dark side of the force. Probably not yet, he mused. The younger man still sounded dazed.
"Yeah." He reached out a hand to offer assistance as Blair pulled himself to a sitting position. Jim felt him sway, "Slowly," he cautioned.
"Whoa," the younger man reached out blindly to grasped at Jim outstretched hand and felt himself being steadied.
"Okay?" Jim asked, peering through the darkness at his partner as he placed his other hand on Blair's shoulder.
"Uh...yeah. That was just a little too quick."
"Just take it slow and easy for a bit. Do you hurt anywhere else?" Although Jim had check for broken bones he hadn't been able to ascertain whether or not Blair had sustained any internal injuries.
"No," came the answer, "Nothing too outstanding. Just kind of all over. But my head is killing me."
Jim nodded, lightly touching the swelling on the young man's head. "I'll just bet it is."
After a moment Blair spoke up. "How about you?"
Jim thought about it before he answered. How much did he want to tell Sandburg at this point? The young man had enough to worry about as it was, but still....he did have the right to know where they stood. "I...ah...I've got a little problem with my leg."
In the darkness Jim heard Blair stiffen then slowly make his way to him.
"What is it, Jim?"
The injury was making itself known again. "It...," he hissed in pain, "it's not too bad."
"What?" Blair voice was rising in fear and frustration.
"My leg."
Blair felt a small pang of relief. At least they were getting somewhere now. He moved forward in the dark, reaching out to touch Jim's leg.
"Is it broken?"
Blair heard his intake of breath and knew Jim winced when his hands located the injury.
"Sorry, man," he apologized.
Jim gritted his teeth, biting down as his partner continued.
"Where's that lighter, Jim?"
The detective held it out before he remembered his partner didn't have the advantage of sentinel eyesight. He held his breath against the unintentional pain Blair was causing him and placed the lighter in the outstretched hand.
Jim blinked against the sudden brightness as the anthropologist directed the flame's light to his leg.
Blair knew there wasn't much he would be able to do for Jim until daylight when he could see the wound but he wanted to make sure his partner was not going to bleed to death before he could properly bandage the leg. He apologized again as he pulled back the torn edges of the denim jeans from Jim's knee. He knew his actions were causing more pain but he had to check the damage for himself. Blair knew Jim would downplay his injury if he thought it would endanger them.
Through the faint light he could see there wasn't much blood. The knee area was swollen and there was one deep gash just below Jim's kneecap but the bleeding had already ceased. Blair closed his eyes in a moment of fervent thanks. If the injury had been more severe, Jim could have bleed to death before they knew it.
As tenderly as possible he continued his exploration. Just below the gash his fingers felt an odd deformity. Gently he touched the area and jumped when Jim cried, losing the lighter in the process.
Blair recovered quickly. "Oh God. I'm sorry, man," he babbled, reaching up to grip Jim's arm.
After a moment to regain his breath, the sentinel waved down his fears.
"It's okay, Chief. Just....just take it easy. Okay?" Jim tried to offer the young man a smile of reassurance. It fell horribly flat.
Blair took a deep breath, fighting down a wave of dizziness and nausea, before moving cautiously back into position beside Jim's leg.. He couldn't tell if the bone was broken or if there was damage to the ligament or cartilage. Either way, the leg had to be immobilized.
Working blind was not an easy task but half an hour later, Blair had managed to clean and wrap the wound. Jim protested when Blair took off his shirt and ripped it into appropriate lengths to secure the splint to his leg.
"You're going to freeze," he said.
Blair snorted and continued with his task. "I don't think one shirt is going to make that much difference. Besides...Mom...I still have my t-shirt and jacket. Okay?"
Jim lightly cuffed the back of his head, "Smart ass."
Blair winced at the light tap. His head was still hurting, but he had to ignore it for the present time. Jim needed him. He flashed a grin for the older man's benefit and finished tying the last of the strips of cloth. He knew his partner was hurting too, but it felt good to hear the amusement in the Jim's voice. Finally, satisfied with the results until daylight, he set about making his partner comfortable.
Their clothes were wet and Blair could feel his teeth beginning to chatter. He bit down hard in an effort to keep the sentinel from hearing. The last thing he needed right now was his blessed protector worrying about him catching a chill.
Jim had remained quiet during the bandaging, but by the time it was completed, beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. Blair was certain this couldn't be good for the injured man. They needed to get a fire started and get warm.
He tried to peer around what remained of the building but gave up after a few moments. Clouds still hung heavy in the sky, obliterating even the faint light that might have been given off by the moon and stars. It was still pitch black to Blair and once again he found himself wishing for Jim's sentinel eyesight, just for a while.
He started to rise.
"Where are you going?"
Blair jumped as he felt Jim's hand clamp down on his arm. It took a moment for him to regain control of his racing heart. "Jeez, Jim. Don't do that. I just thought I'd check the other buildings to see if they're in any better shape than this one. We need to do something about getting warm. And..." he paused to look toward what remained of the ceiling, "we don't know if the rest of this place is coming down or not."
Jim had been worried that Blair's mind would follow that line. During the two years they had been partners it was usually Jim who was in control and playing the part of the 'blessed protector'. Blair's role was usually in the guise of teacher or instructor. When they had run up against dangerous elements, Jim had always stepped forward without asking or question to take command. Blair had never seemed to mind, in fact, he had seemed more than willing to let Jim handle the situations. After all, dealing with criminals was Jim's world.
But now the blessed protector was injured and it was going to be up to the young teacher to keep the sentinel safe until he was able to function at full capacity again.
Releasing control of his welfare was not an easy thing for Jim Ellison, and there was no one, with the exception of his partner, that Jim would have done so willingly.
But even letting go had it's limits.
He knew Sandburg couldn't see enough through the darkness to maneuver with any degree of certainty. He also knew Blair wasn't telling him the entire truth about how he was feeling. Jim had picked up the sudden increase in heart beat and respiration in his friend a couple of times since he had regained consciousness. He was holding back, again.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Chief."
Blair settled back on his heels. "Why not?"
Jim stared at him through the darkness. "How far can you see in front of you right now?"
"What?"
"You heard me. How far can you see in front of you right now?"
Blair paused, his suspicions running high as he tried to reason out Jim's line of questioning.
"I can see...."
"Can you see my hand?" Jim interrupted.
Blair concentrated, trying to see any shape or outline that would indicate the location of Jim's hand. He knew if he wasn't able to see the upheld hand, Jim would never let him get away to search for better shelter. After long moments, the image of a dark mass coalesced before his eyes. He smiled at his success. "Yes," he answered with a new confidence. "I see it."
Jim exhaled, "Sit down, Sandburg. You're not going anywhere."
"But...I don't underst...."
"I'm not holding up a hand." Jim's voice was steady and held no accusation.
Blair sat in stunned silence, trying to reason out Jim's deception. He had seen the dark shape of a hand. Hadn't he? He frowned, trying to bring back the image that had been before him. Hadn't that been Jim's fist he'd seen through the darkness? Or had he wanted to see so badly he had imagined it. He sighed in weariness. Maybe he hadn't seen anything. He knew from the psych classes he'd taken that during times of stress, people were apt to see a lot of things, real and imaginary. He hung his head. If he couldn't see it would be foolhardy on his part to go stumbling around in the dark in unfamiliar territory.
"I'm sorry, Jim. I..."
As if reading his thoughts, the older man quieted him. "It's alright, Chief. You believed you saw it. Nothing else matters."
"But it does matter Jim. I didn't..."
"Blair. I know you were telling the truth," he reached to clasp the younger man's forearm in a secure grip, giving it a gentle shake. "The human lie detector. Remember?" Even though he knew it couldn't be seen through the darkness, he sent Blair a reassuring smile and after a moment he felt the muscles in the arm beneath his fingers relax slightly. He knew his partner had believed he had seen something. Jim had been around him long enough and in enough different situations to be able to distinguish the differences in Blair's heartbeat when he was being less than completely truthful with him. It was a skill that had come in quite handy during their partnership. He just hoped the young scientist never learned how to control the rhythm of his heart.
"I could use the lighter," Blair offered. "It would help some."
"Not enough it wouldn't. You'd be stumbling around out there in the dark and..." he paused to make sure there was a teasing quality in his voice, "I'm not in any condition to get you out of trouble right now." Jim paused until he was certain his friend understood the remark was made with affection. "We can wait here for the rest of the night. I don't think the rest of the room is coming down any time soon."
He unconsciously held his breath when Blair was silent for a moment before answering, "Can we at least stay up against the wall until daylight? It's still a couple of hours off."
Jim smiled at the tone of concern he heard in the question. Blair was willing to acquiesce to his instructions but the younger man still felt a responsibility to protect the sentinel. As much as Jim was Blair's 'blessed protector', in much the same way, Blair was his. And it was a role the young man fulfilled with all his heart.
"Yeah," he said, beginning to ease himself toward the wall. "We can do that."
Jim felt his partner's hands come around his chest from behind and assist him to their new location.
He had expected pain to accompany his movements but since Blair had bandaged and immobilized his leg, the pain had lessened dramatically. Hopefully, he'd be able to move on it by morning. Whittaker and his people couldn't be very far behind them by now.
He frowned with worry, grateful the night hid his concern. If he couldn't move by daylight, he'd have to get Blair to go for help and that was not going to be an easy task. Jim knew he'd have better luck getting the wind to cease blowing than getting Blair to leave him. He'd have to think of something.
However, it could wait until daylight. Right now they both needed rest. He settled against the wall as Blair placed his backpack under the injured leg then settle next to him. They were both tired, cold and hurting.
Jim scooted himself closer to his partner at the same time he reached for the pack he'd been carrying.
"What're you doing?" Blair asked.
He pulled the tarp from the pack and shook it out. "This thing may not be wool but it might help us maintain a little body heat," he draped the nylon cover over them both, "Get over here close." Jim slipped his arm around Blair's shoulders and felt the younger man shivering. "Cold?"
Blair nodded and moved himself as close to his partner as possible, "Y..yes. I didn't realize it until now."
Jim knew the adrenaline they had both been operating on was fading away. When he'd turned down the imaginary dial to control his pain, he'd also reduced his sensitivity to the cold. Blair had been unable to do that and was now feeling the chill. Jim rubbed his partner's arms briskly to create a bit of friction. "Any better?" He felt Blair's head nodding against the side of his shoulder.
"Yeah. A little."
"Good. We'll rest until daylight then see what we can do about getting out of here." He felt Blair's head nod again as his breathing evened out. Jim smiled. Cold, wet, hurt and hunted by killers, the younger man still felt secure enough with Jim around to fall asleep. He knew exhaustion played a large part in it but Jim couldn't help feeling it was also a matter of trust. Blair trusted him as much as he trusted Blair.
Jim relaxed and settled back as best he could, easing his leg to a more comfortable position. He needed a few hours sleep too.
It was still an hour before the sun would be up but Thompson already had his people in route. The storm had passed several hours ago but it had taken until now to complete the preparations. Simon was once again traveling with the Federal Agent in the lead jeep.
Their route was marked along the old logging road. Simon prayed that when Ellison and Sandburg reached the road they would stick to it for speed instead of taking the shorter, rougher route across the mountain.
Morning sunlight broke over the eastern ridge but did little for warmth. The temperature hadn't dropped as much as Jim had feared it would, but it was still a cool morning. They were fortunate the warm summer weather had lasted as long as it had this year. He silently thanked God it wasn't a month from now and shivered at the thought of October in these mountains.
Jim had awakened a short time ago and after a few moments to orient himself he had stared in wonder at the destruction that lay before him. Although he had been able to see it during the night with his enhanced vision, it still chilled him in the daylight.
There was little left of the building he and Blair had taken refuge in the previous night. The back wall had tumbled in on itself when the ceiling had collapsed. The two side walls were still partially standing but the back portion was no longer attached to a roof. The center of the building was littered with fallen debris and Jim was amazed that he and Blair had survived the collapse with as few injuries as they had sustained. The wall they were sheltered against and the stretch of roof it was attached to were all that remained of the structure.
Jim shifted uncomfortably and felt a twinge of pain radiate from the wound in his leg. His butt had long ago gone numb but he was still hesitant to move much. Each time he did, it increased the pain.
He felt movement and looked down at the shaggy head leaning against his shoulder. His partner was once again sleeping.
Even being able to turn down the imaginary dials, the pain had been a constant companion for Jim during the night making it impossible for him to sleep completely. Instead he had used the opportunity to wake Blair every few hours. The younger man had responded slowly throughout the night, a sure sign he was suffering from a head injury, however slight.
Now that the sun was rising, they would have to be on the move once more and he wanted the kid to rest a little longer.
Jim smiled inwardly. He caught himself referring to Sandburg as a 'kid' again. He couldn't help it. It was a nickname his partner had become tolerant of since beginning his work with Jim at the station. A good thing too, since it was used by just about every one of the other cops in Major Crimes. It wasn't so much his age as his appearance and the childlike enthusiasm he displayed for his work and the world in general. Sandburg had an innocence about him and was constantly able to find new angles and new perspectives on cases that Jim and the other cops had become to hard-boiled to visualize or were slower to see. At times Jim worried about the darker side of his work affecting that innocence. He treasured the friendship that had sprung between the two of them and didn't want to see Sandburg changed. He grinned to himself. Maybe keyed down a little bit, but not changed. If nothing else he was sure Simon Banks would appreciate it. Blair's attitude was infectious and at times that made it difficult for the stern Captain to maintain his illusion of annoyed tolerance toward the hyperactive collage student.
In truth, there wasn't one of the cops in the entire Major Crimes Unit, including Simon, that hadn't been affected by the nonstop ball of energy that had become Jim's partner. He might have been viewed as the pesky little brother that tagged along with the big kids but they each knew he contributed more than his share to the department.
Jim turned his attention back to the debris that littered the floor of the crumbled building before him. Timbers lay everywhere from the caved-in roof. He and Blair had been more than a little lucky they hadn't been more seriously injured when it had given way.
He shifted again and thought about revising his opinion of their luck. His leg didn't feel like it was going to last long for walking today and with Whittaker and his people on their trail their 'not serious injuries' could prove fatal.
Jim frowned as he felt Blair begin to move beside him. If he was unable to get very far today, he wanted to think of something to convince his partner to leave him and go for help. A task he wasn't looking forward to.
First of all, his partner was injured. Blair wasn't about to admit it but Jim knew the signs all too well. The younger man was suffering from a concussion. Second, Jim smiled to himself, the anthropologist was one of the most stubborn people he'd ever met in his life. If Blair believed in something, not even an act of congress would sway him. And Jim knew his partner would not believe that leaving his injured sentinel was the logical thing to do. As much as Jim wanted to convince the younger man it was right, he knew that had the circumstances been reversed, there was no way Jim would have left Blair.
He shifted again and felt Blair's head sag further against his arm before jerking slightly in prelude to waking up.
Jim monitored his heart rate and waited while Blair fought his way back to wakefulness. "Hey, Chief," he greeted, after a few moments, "How're you feeling?"
As he watched, bleary eyes darted around their surroundings without focusing and the look on the pale and drawn face told Jim without words, that for the first few seconds of waking the younger man was trying to piece together where he was and what had happened.
Jim's concern grew as the seconds passed and Blair didn't answer him. He was still uncomfortable with the indications he'd picked up from his partner since the crash. Although he suspected his friend had suffered at least a slight concussion from the crash itself, with the rafters that had fallen on them during the night he felt certain a concussion was definite. He'd had trouble waking Blair during the night and even now, he was responding slowly.
Finally, awareness replaced the look of lost confusion and Jim breathed a little easier.
Blair had heard Jim's question but he'd been totally confused about...everything... for a few moments. His brain was refusing to function and for the space of a heartbeat he thought he must have really been drunk the previous night. His head ached, his body hurt and he had no memory of where he was or what had happened. He'd just decided that coffee would be a really good idea when everything fell back into place. The plane crash, Whittaker, the storm, the roof caving in...
Jim!
His eyes grew wide as he remembered Jim had been hurt during the storm. He blinked to clear his vision before looking up into the face of his friend.
"I'm fine," he said a little too quickly, "How about you? How's the leg?"
Blair looked down at the bandaged leg, holding his breath as he felt Jim's eyes on him.
It was long seconds before the older man replied. "It's better, I think. Doesn't hurt as much this morning."
Blair pushed himself to his knees and bent over Jim's outstretched leg. He could still feel the sentinel's eyes following him as he began inspecting the injury.
It always made him nervous when someone was watching him but when Jim watched...
Blair knew his partner could hear his heart racing. Jim had probably heard it as soon as he'd awakened to that brief period of disorientation. It had been a disturbing feeling until memory had returned. Then he had realized the dizziness he felt and the fuzziness around the edges of his vision were probably signs of a concussion. It wasn't the first time he'd experienced the unpleasant feeling. But this time Jim was hurt and he didn't need to be worrying about Blair. Besides, the anthropologist told himself, this would pass after a time. It had before. He was good at verbal slight-of-hand, he'd just divert Jim's attention.
He continued his examination, nodding approval and keeping up a running dialog, "Good. That's good," he said with satisfaction as he saw the bandaging hadn't been a bad job considering he'd done it in the dark. "It's not bleeding," he replaced the strip of shirt he'd used and sat back, "Think you'll be able to walk on it?"
Jim hadn't missed the diversion from his own condition Blair had used. He narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling a hint of anger and frustration toward his partner. Blair would downplay his injuries if he thought he was endangering them further. Jim knew from experience he'd done it in the past. He couldn't help but remember their trek through the woods to rescue Simon during the Quinn ordeal. When he and Blair had jumped from the cliff, Sandburg had cracked his head on a rock then had continued with a head injury, never uttering a complaint until he couldn't go any further. Jim still felt his insides chill every time he recalled the incident
Finally, he sighed in frustration. He needed cooperation from his partner, not obstacles to overcome. They were going to have enough of a problem if Whittaker caught up with them.
"Sandburg. Look at me." It was an order not a request but he didn't have time for Blair's rebelliousness now.
"What."
Jim held his temper in check at the curt response. "What aren't you telling me?"
He caught a side view as Blair frowned, but didn't look up. "Nothing, man."
"Sandburg."
With a flurry of motion, Blair pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly but trying to cover it by pulling the tarp they had used as a cover off the floor to began folding it. "Come on, Jim. Let's worry about getting out of here before Whittaker shows up. I don't know about you but I, for one, 'do not' want to wait here on him and his buddies." He finished with the nylon cover and shoved it back into Jim's pack, being careful to keep his eyes from meeting those of his partner.
Jim rubbed a grimy hand across his face in exasperation. It would be useless to argue with the stubborn man when he was in this mood. It had never worked before and it wouldn't work now. If Blair felt pushed, he would only withdraw further. Jim would let him put the conversation off for awhile but he intended to keep a close eye on him.
He grasped Blair's offered hand for assistance and carefully pushed himself up onto his good leg, not at all sure this was going to work. He adjusted his weight as his partner pulled his arm across his shoulders and used his legs to push them both to a standing position. Jim felt a tremor run through Blair's body at the exertion. He shook his head silently in wonder. His partner was stubborn to the end.
One step was all he managed. With the first hint of weight on the injured limb agony shot through his entire body and he collapsed back to the floor, taking Blair with him.
Both men lay still for long minutes, Jim hissing as he tried to bring the pain back under control and Blair looking more dazed with each passing minute.
"You okay, Chief?" Jim was finally able to ask between clinched teeth.
"I..ah...Yeah...Yeah, I'm okay," he paused then began pushing himself to a sitting position, "How about you?" he moved to Jim's side and began examining the wound again, "Did you.....Oh...Man..." Blair turned away, spotting and reaching for the rest of the shirt he had used for bandaging Jim's leg the previous evening.
"What?" Jim's voice was filled with pain as he tried to sit up.
Blair pushed him back, "Stay still. You've reopened the wound. It's bleeding again."
Jim eased himself back, leaning on his elbows as he fought to regain control of the pain. He was amazed at how fast the exercise worked this time and wondered briefly if it had anything to do with Sandburg hovering over him. He watched the play of emotions cross the face of his partner. "How bad?"
"Not to bad actually. I think I've got it stopped again but...."
"But what?"
Blair shot him a look of slight irritation. "I can't tell if it's broken or not." He sat back on his heels and looked at Jim. "How's the pain? Got it under control?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah. I have now." He noticed a strange look cross his partner's face. "Why. What are you thinking?"
"If you've got the pain under control, why don't you use your touch to see if it's broken. Just to make sure I don't need to splint it a little tighter or brace it better."
Jim looked doubtful, "I don't know, Chief. I've never tried that on myself."
Blair shrugged his shoulders, "Come on. You use your touch on me all the time. Remember when I thought I'd broken my arm last winter? One touch and you knew it wasn't." He nodded, indicating Jim's leg. "Go ahead. Try it."
Jim looked thoughtful for a moment then shrugged. "Why not."
Blair watched with anxious eyes as the sentinel explored the area around the gash in his leg. Finally he sat back and nodded satisfaction. "It's not broken but it feels...funny...like something is loose inside. A ligament or maybe a tendon."
A disgusted look appeared on the younger man's face. "Yuck."
Jim's smile at his partner's response. "Yeah, yuck," he said then frowned. This was not good. If he couldn't walk, their chances of survival were reduced even further. He contemplated their options as Blair sat back and heaved a sigh. Jim recalled the second helicopter the day of the crash. Had that been Simon he had seen? If so, then the captain wouldn't be far behind Whittaker. But, how far? And would he be close enough to aid them? What if it hadn't been Simon?
Jim rubbed at a growing headache he felt building behind his eyes. There were too many variables. They knew Whittaker was closing in. His and Blair's plan before had been to keep ahead of the thieves and reach help. Jim silently cursed this turn of events and watched Blair in concern. A familiar tingle had started at the back of his neck, the instinctive need to protect his partner was gathering strength.
Blair continued to stare at Jim's leg without seeing it. His entire field of vision was alternately blurring and clearing, making his stomach roll. He felt his heart beat increase and prayed that Jim would think it was due to the stress of their situation.
There were times when there were disadvantages to living with the sentinel. Jim's natural protectiveness towards him sometimes took precedence over everything else. Despite that fact Blair couldn't deny it felt good. It was a comforting feeling to know that someone cared about him that much. He knew Naomi loved him and he loved her, but there was a closeness that he and Jim shared that he'd never achieved with his mother. He had decided it probably had something to do with their sentinel connection.
But now, Jim was hurt and it was the sentinel who needed protecting. Regardless of his own injuries, Blair had to make certain Jim's focus remained on their survival. What ever was wrong with Blair would have to wait until later to be dealt with.
"Okay," he said finally, "walking's out. Now what?"
Blair didn't realize he'd spoken aloud.
Jim watched his friend for a moment. He knew Blair was covering. If nothing else, he'd have known it by the way he refused to meet his eyes. "We need a plan," Jim said finally and watched as the younger man's movements indicated he was already trying to formulate a plan for them.
"Can you hear them yet?"
Jim paused and concentrated his hearing. He filtered out the more pleasant sounds of the mountain morning, searching for signs of their pursuers.
After a short time he shook his head. "No. They were probably held up by the same storm."
"Good. That'll give us a little more time. Now..." Blair turned way and let his eyes wander over the entire area. His vision was thankfully clearing at the moment but the dizziness wasn't abating. He blinked and forced himself to his feet as his mind continued to race for solutions.
After a moment he spotted a bundle among the fallen timbers just to their left. It took a few
minutes but he was finally able to untangle a coiled length of rope and held it up proudly for Jim to see.
"What are you planning?" the cop asked suspiciously.
"I found some rope," he stated needlessly, grinning in triumph.
Jim watched him carefully, "Yeah. It's rope. That still doesn't tell me what you're planning to do with it."
Blair turned and pulled at two long pieces of two-by-fours as he began. "The Native American Indians usually had two camps, one for summer and a different one for winter. When it was time to move from one to the other they would use a travois," he explained as he continued wrestling with the boards. "Do you know, they could pack everything they owned, including their tepees in less than an hour and be on their way?" Blair's speech was delivered with rapid intensity, punctuated with grunts as he loosened the boards. "After they'd gone, you'd never know they'd been there. It was really amazing. They usually used horses to pull these things but sometimes the women....."
Jim put a hand on the grad student's arm to halt his culture lecture. "Sandburg. What do you think you're doing?" His voice was filled with dawning suspicion.
The younger man looked at the rope in his hand in confusion. He'd thought it was obvious. "I'm going to make a travois and pull you. It should be easy, now that we've reached the road."
Jim looked at him incredulously. He had suspected what Blair was planning but actually hearing the words...he couldn't believe it. What was the kid thinking? Jim outweighed his partner by at least fifty pounds and the logging road Blair was talking about that they had reached was little more than a washed-out, rutted pathway through the woods. And to top off everything else, Jim had no doubt Blair was suffering from a concussion. He was in no shape to pull anyone, anywhere.
"You can't pull me off this mountain."
To his surprise, Blair grinned cheekily at him. "Maybe not, but you gotta give me credit for trying," he said, beginning to fashion a harness for himself.
Jim's face turned into a stern mask, "Sandburg," he said forcibly, "I'm not joking here."
Blair looked up at him, his eyes beginning to grow dark with determination. He knew Jim was serious, but he also knew he had to convince his partner of this necessity. There wasn't any other choice. He had to convince Jim not to fight him on this. "Look, Jim. I know this sounds crazy, man, but if you've got a better idea, I'm ready to listen."
He saw a hint of a smile cross Jim's face. The man thought he was giving in. "Good. You've got to leave me and go for..."
Sandburg's temper flared. "I said better, Jim. That doesn't sound better to me."
"Dammit, Blair."
"Don't 'Dammit, Blair' me," he shouted, rising to stand over Jim to emphasize his point. It wasn't often he was able to tower over the bigger man and he meant to take advantage of the opportunity. Fear for his partner, misery at his own injury and a desperate need to help, all combined in a heated flash of anger. Blair was determined to hold his ground. "I'm not leaving you," he stated forcibly, then took a deep breath to control the unaccustomed anger he felt.
"Blair. Listen..." Jim was trying equally hard to control his own anger.
"No. You listen." The anthropologist paused to calm himself before he continued in a steadier voice. "You want me to leave you and go for help."
"Yes. I do." Jim answered quickly.
Blair stopped all motion and stared intently at his partner. "If it was me? Would you go? Would you even consider going?" He waited only brief seconds before continuing. "Jim, man, I'm not stupid. I know it's not going to be easy but I also know that if they find you, and they surely will if I leave you here alone, they'll kill you. It's that simple. They've already found our trail so they know there are two of us. You said yourself they've already killed for these diamonds. One or two more bodies isn't going to make a difference to them," he paused for breath. The look on Jim's face told him the cop was still not convinced. "You tell me what choice we have? Do we stay here with your lone gun against at least three killers with God knows how much armament? I don't think so, Jim." Blair paused again briefly for breath, "Now. I may not be able to pull you off this mountain, but I am going to build this travois and I am going to try. You can either continue to fight me or you can speed things up and help me, but either way, I am...going...to...do...it."
Jim stared into the angry blue eyes of his partner for a moment in shock. He and Blair had argued off and on from their first meeting. He knew the kid was prone to taking chances on Jim's behalf, but he couldn't remember hearing this much determination in the young man's voice, not even during their rescue of Simon and Darryl Banks in Peru last year. Jim recalled that Blair had used the same tone of voice when he had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was jumping out of the plane with him. He knew Blair was one of the most stubborn individuals he'd ever met but until this moment he hadn't realized the depth of his friend's commitment to his role as Jim's partner or his devotion to him.
He shook his head. There were times when Blair could surprise him to no end. Sandburg had a will made of iron when he needed it and seeing the determination on the incredibly young looking face, he realized it was no wonder people continually misjudged his partner.
Blair watched as Jim worked through the conflicting emotions. Despite his determination to stand firm, he felt a stab of guilt when a look of profound sadness crossed the sentinel's face. He knew it was hard for the cop not to be in control of a situation but he also knew Jim was no fool. They both knew Jim's lone gun was not going to be enough to stop the killers on their trail.
However, a little extra insurance never hurt and Blair wasn't above using a small amount of emotional blackmail if it meant saving his partner's life.
"Come on, Jim," he coaxed, "You've been my blessed protector for a while now. It's my turn to be yours."
Jim couldn't help but smile at that thought as he felt an immeasurable amount of pride in his young partner. He settled back against the wall and nodded as Blair began pulling together the items he'd need for the travois.
Blair paused and rubbed once again at his eyes. The fuzziness he'd done his best to keep from Jim earlier was becoming more and more pronounced as he worked. After he'd begun putting the travois together, Jim had asked for help in moving to the outside of the tumbled down building with the excuse that he'd be able to lend a hand if Blair needed it.
Blair had complied, although the strain of supporting the larger man had cost him. As he had turned back to his work he had barely managed to keep from stumbling when a wave of dizziness overcame him. He'd been thankful that his heart had already been beating fast when it occurred. Jim would never have considered letting him go ahead with the scheme if he knew how truly weak Blair was feeling.
In fact, Blair was beginning to doubt his ability to pull off the stunt himself. The only thing that kept him going was knowing the alternative. If they didn't do something, they might as well plants themselves on the nearest log and wait for Whittaker to show up.
He had kept up his running lecture on the Native Americans in part to keep his mind occupied, but also he hoped to be able to distract Jim from focusing on his head injury. There simply was no choice in the matter. They had to keep going.
Blair tied the final piece of rope in his hand to the makeshift harness, then slipped it over his shoulders, settling it into place and trying it for comfort. The rope bit deep into his shoulders when he gave it an experimental pull. That was going to get uncomfortable pretty quick. He continued speaking as he began to look around for something he could use as padding.
With his vision growing dimmer he purposely avoided looking at Jim but knew his partner was leaned back against the wall. He had seen his eyes close a few moments before and let a faint smile cross his face. Whether he was asleep or not, at least Jim was resting.
Something that looked promising for padding caught Blair's eye to the west side of the building where Jim sat. He stepped around the corner of the building, heading for the object. A weathered piece of canvas lay across a stack of what looked like cut fire wood. It made sense. At the time the sawmill had been active, wood burning stoves would have been the major source of heat around, and Blair knew from his own camping experience that often firewood was covered to help keep it dry.
When he began to pull at portions of the canvas the rotting material gave way faster than he expected. Mold and bits of fiber floated upward into his face in a mini explosion. He tried to dodge the unexpected cloud, but in doing so, lost his balance and stumbled against the pile of wood. Flinging out an arm he caught himself just in time, then pushed himself back to both feet, only to stumble once more.
The dizziness was back and when he blinked to clear away the fuzzy images before him they only became worse. His heart skipped a beat as he realized he could no longer see anything but blurry shadows.
He froze in place, debating what his next move should be when all hell broke loose.
Jim gave a start as he woke from a light doze. His heart pounded as he realized he had let his guard down. He shook his head to clear the sleep from his brain, silently cursing himself. How long had he been asleep? He glanced at his watch and realized it hadn't survived the caving in of the roof, but judging by the location of the sun, only a few minutes had passed.
Jim shifted his weight, trying for a more comfortable position with his braced leg. He stopped mid-motion as the movement reawaken the pain. Anger flared at his helplessness and it took a great deal of self-control to keep from bellowing out his frustration.
After a moment he listened and could hear Blair, just beyond his line of sight, speaking aloud, obviously for Jim's benefit. Blair's voice had lapsed into his lecture mode and was continuing with volumes of information on Native Americans and their culture.
Jim smiled as he realized that it had been the calming effect of Blair's voice combined with the warmth of the rising sun and the strenuous exercise of the past few days that had lull him into such a relaxed state that he'd fallen asleep. \*Damn that kid was good.\*
For probably the thousandth time he wondered how the offbeat graduate student had managed to work his way past the walls and barriers Jim had managed to erect around his life. Or for that matter, around his heart. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs. In all honesty it didn't matter how, the fact was he had and the impotent feeling Jim was experiencing at being unable to fully protect the younger man was eating at his soul.
When they had first partnered, Jim had never planned for Blair to become as involved in police work as he had, but the anthropologist's aptitude and intelligence had helped bring more than one criminal to justice. He couldn't over look that fact. He was certain Blair had gotten much more than he had bargained for.
Jim heard Blair's speech falter for a moment and automatically expanded his focus of hearing to include the younger man's heart rate and breathing. His partner's heart was racing again and his breathing had become ragged. Jim narrowed his eyes. He knew both signs were further indications of the head injury Blair was trying to hide from him.
He felt anger rising again and knew it was directed toward several different directions. At Blair, for attempting to hide the injury, at circumstances in general for him being injured in the first place and at himself for his inability to do more for his injured partner. Reason told him he was doing the best he could under the circumstances, but his sense of responsibility told him otherwise.
Blair had been right, they didn't have the luxury of being able to hold up until help arrived. With Whittaker close behind them they....
Jim's face paled as his sensitive hearing picked up distant voices. He focused, filtering out the surrounding forest sounds.
I can pick him off from here.
No! Not yet.
Why not? We have them both now and you said yourself the FBI couldn't be very far behind. Let's do it and get the hell out of here.
Jim's heart pounded louder, almost overwhelming his efforts to hear the conversation.
Someone with a cultured voice and soft British accent sighed in exasperation.
We don't know for certain that they still have the diamonds on them. Suppose they have decided to hide them along the way. I am not ready to chance ten million dollars to your impatient trigger finger, Morely.
Look, Whittaker. At least let me take care of one of them. We don't need both.
That, my friend, is where you're wrong. We may need one to use as leverage against the other.
Jim could hear the cold sneer in the other man's voice.
Alright, Whittaker. You win. This time.
Jim shook his head to bring himself back to his present position. He couldn't let them sneak up on him and Sandburg. They were already too close. Their options had just run out. He drew his weapon and fired toward the thieves at the same moment he yelled.
"SANDBURG! GET DOWN!"
A series of wild shots sent splinters of wood flying from the wall Jim was propped against. Blair had helped him move out into the warmth of the sunshine as they had prepared the travois. Now, he scrambled unassisted back to the limited safety of the collapsed building, trying to ignore the agony generated from his leg.
Flat on his stomach, he leveled his gun in a two-fisted grip. Logic and an in-born sense of survival told him to locate the gunman, but a stronger sense drove him instead to search for his partner.
With a desperate, sinking feeling he listened, praying to hear Sandburg's heartbeat. Despite the conversation he had heard, the shots that had been fired in his direction had come perilously close. If Sandburg had been moving when the gunfire had begun, one of the shots aimed in his direction could have found its mark.
It took a moment to filter out the dying echos of the gunfire, but when he did Jim was rewarded with the frantic, familiar rhythm and immediately sent a silent thanks to what ever deity was looking out for the young anthropologist.
"Sandburg," he called softly. He could tell the kid was nearby. "Sandburg," he called more urgently.
"Jim?" Ellison heard the obvious relief in the wavering voice. "Oh god, man. I was sure they'd shot you."
"I'm fine. Were you hit?" He knew Whittaker didn't want them dead until he was sure he had the diamonds in hand, but with the younger man's heart-rate and breathing so erratic, it was hard to tell if the sniper had missed or not.
"Um...no, I wasn't."
Jim noted something besides fear evident in Blair's voice. "Chief? What is it?" He recalled the falter he had heard in his friend's voice and the sound of his ragged breathing only moments before the shooting. The seconds stretched in to an eternity until Jim found himself wishing he could get his hands on the reluctant student. "Talk to me."
"Um..I've got a little problem here, Jim."
Ellison's heart pounded in his chest as he reminded himself that Blair had said he hadn't been shot. "What is it?" he demanded.
"I...ah...I can't see, Jim."
"What?!"
"I can't see."
There was a catch in the kid's voice that Jim recognized as the beginnings of a panic attack.
\*Dear God, what next?\*
Jim took a couple of deep breaths. He had to make sure his voice was calm if he was going to be able to keep Sandburg calm. He closed his eyes and focused his hearing on Blair's heartbeat in order to visualize the younger man's location. He felt a slight twinge of relief as he pinpointed him just to the west side of the collapsed building. At least he was out of the line of fire for the moment. "Okay, Blair, stay where you are. I'll get you."
"Jim. You can't. Your leg."
Ellison smiled at his partner's continued concern in spite of his own condition.
"You let me worry about my leg. Just stay put." Jim paused to listen to his partner's reaction. "Did you hear me. Chief?"
"Yeah. Yeah. I heard, but I really don't think you should......"
"Sandburg. I said stay put. And don't worry about my leg."
"O...Okay."
Jim heard the soft acknowledgment just before a second volley of gunfire erupted from a line of trees only fifty feet away. He fired off two shots, hoping to discourage closer advancement by the killers, then dragged himself further into the shelter of the building and toward the wall where he could hear Blair.
A distant rumble caught his attention. The sounds were unmistakably the engine of a vehicle and it was coming from the opposite direction where the gunfire had originated. Was it Whittaker's reinforcement? Or help for Jim and Blair?
Jim scrambled faster to the wall. He had seen a section of the wall about ten feet back from where he had pinpointed Blair's position. Haphazard repairs had been done on rotted wood years before and with any luck he would be able to pry them lose.
The odds were strongly against them, but Jim would be damned before he'd let his partner -his friend-die alone and blind. If they were going to be killed, he could at least make sure they were together. And, if the noise he had heard to the west was Simon and help for them, then they needed to stall Whittaker a little longer.
No longer concerned with any additional damage done to his leg, Jim reached the wall and began tearing at the shoddy repair with bare hands.
His hearing immediately picked up the increase in Blair's heart before he realized his mistake in not informing the anthropologist of his intentions. "Blair. It's okay," he called through the wall, "It's only me."
With a final push at the remaining piece of board, Jim stuck his head and shoulders through the opening.
The sight that greeted him tugged at his heart. Sandburg was huddled against the side of the building, attempting to make himself as small a target as possible. The expressive face was pale in the morning light and the bruises along the left side of his head and face stood out in sharp contrast. The eyes that normally sparkled with life and a thirst for knowledge were fearful and wide beyond belief. "Chief. Come toward my voice."
Almost instantly, Blair scrambled toward him. Blindly groping the area before him in an obvious attempt to reach Jim.
Ellison grasped his hand as soon as it was within range and pulled the slighter man into the safety of the building. It wasn't much of a haven but it would give them a few minutes of leeway.
Once safely inside, Jim pulled his partner into a fierce hug and maneuvered them both to a position where Jim could keep his eye on the doorway toward the killers.
"You okay, buddy?" he asked, taking Blair's chin in his hand and forcing his head up for a better look into his eyes. When Blair remained silent, Jim shook him gently by the shoulders. "Hey?
You okay?"
Slowly, as if coming out of a fog, Blair nodded. "I think so," he said hesitantly.
Jim continued to check his eyes and used one hand to lightly touch the injured area of his head. "Sorry," he said when Blair winced, "Can you see anything at all, Chief?" he asked.
"I can see points of light but mostly, everything is dark."
Jim continued to explore the injury, detecting a large swelling along the side of his forehead. Hopefully, the loss of sight was due to that swelling and should return as soon as the swelling was reduced. \*It had to.\*
Another round of gunfire erupted, closer still. Jim wrapped one arm around Blair's shoulders with a short warning before firing at one of the gunmen he could now see beginning to approach. The man went down with a bullet in his heart.
"Jim. What're we gonna do?"
Sightless eyes flicked back and forth, as if trying to see beyond their uselessness. Jim snapped off another shot at a figure he saw gaining the courage to begin advancement.
Things were definitely coming to a head. Whittaker's people were becoming more bold and Jim had heard multiple engines coming up the logging road from the west. Another assault was launched from Wittaker's people, peppering the old building with gunfire, forcing Jim to shut down his hearing once again and effectively keeping he and Blair pinned down as the killers advanced.
With an eye toward the east and having to keep his hearing tuned down to prevent the thunder of gunfire from deafening him, Jim suddenly realized he had lost track of the approaching vehicles. If what he had heard wasn't help for he and Blair, he vowed to take out as many of them as possible.
He had briefly entertained the idea of tossing the diamonds out to Whittaker as a diversion, but had squelched it when he realized the diamonds were the only thing keeping he and Blair alive. Once Whittaker had the diamonds, he'd have no further use for either of them.
Jim could feel Blair's body trembling and knew it was taking a monumental effort by his partner to maintain his hold on reality. Blair was one of the most resourceful individuals Jim had ever known, but this was too much for even the most capable of persons. Being shot at was bad enough, but not being able to see what was going on....
The situation seemed hopeless. Jim was crippled and couldn't make a run for it, Blair was blind and couldn't see to make a run for, Whittaker's killers were coming at them from the east and unknowns were approaching from the west.
"Jim?" Blair's soft voice came from beside him.
"Yeah, buddy. What is it?" Jim's eyes flicked quickly down to his partner then back to the doorway.
"We're trapped, aren't we?"
Ellison swallowed hard before answering. He hated the note of resignation he heard in Sandburg's voice but he knew this was not the time for sugar-coating. "It's not looking good," he admitted taking a deep breath.
A faint whiff of a familiar odor tickled Jim's nose. He sniffed again and felt the first ray of true hope since the plane had crashed.
\*Cigars!\*
"I was afraid of that.....," Blair continued.
Jim placed a comforting hand on Blair's shoulder to quiet him and let a smile fill his voice. "Don't write us off yet, Chief. I think the calvary's just arrived."
"What?"
"Shhhh...hold on a minute."
Keeping his body between Blair and the open doorway, Jim turned enough to see shadows cross the opening he had created for the young man to crawl through a short time ago.
"Jim?!"
A smile spread across the sentinel's face. "Simon!" he called. "We're here. Inside the building."
Jim heard the relief flood his captain's voice with the whispered, "Thank God."
Simon had eased himself to the edge of the building and held his position. Waiting.
When he and the FBI agents had neared the area of the abandoned sawmill and heard the automatic gunfire, Thompson had given the order to leave the vehicles and proceed on foot. So far, they had the advantage of surprise and Thompson had decided to use it in their favor. They had crested the rise surrounding the area during a third burst of gunfire and Thompson had given the order to surround the shooters.
Simon had volunteered to make his way to Jim and Blair. Although he had not yet seen the two, the concentration of fire on the largest of the abandoned buildings led him to them in short order. When he heard the twin explosions of Ellison's handgun, he knew he had the correct place. He stealthy made his way to the building, sliding past a ragged opening to the front edge facing the snipers. A careful peek around the corner had assured him the gunfire was still aimed at the old building. He had nearly jumped out of his skin when Ellison had called to him, then after his whispered thanks, he had scooted himself back to the hole in the side of wall he had passed earlier.
He stuck his head and shoulders into the opening, letting his eyes adjust to the dimmer interior. What he saw made his stomach clinch.
Besides the fact that more than half the roof and the majority of the back walls lay in shambles, he saw his detective leaning against the wall with a makeshift brace encasing his entire left leg. Both Jim and Sandburg looked exhausted and more than a little disheveled. He noted Jim's arm remained around the kid's shoulders as he fired his handgun once more. Sandburg's jump at the loud report was, in itself, not unusual but the rapid flicking of his eyes back and forth was. Simon had seen a look very similar to that on the kid's face after the Lash incident. He'd been dazed by the blows from the killer and still partially drugged, unable to focus on the concerned faces surrounding him, in effect, partially blind. Simon felt his stomach clinch again as Jim confirmed his suspicions.
"It's okay, Chief. It's Simon."
A tentative smile broke across the frightened face, partially hidden by long curls. "Simon," he breathed, "Man, is it good to s... that you're here. Hope you brought reinforcements."
The larger man couldn't help but smile at the words. "Oh...I brought a few," he said, switching his gaze to Jim's injury. "How you doing, Jim?"
"I'm okay, Captain. Glad to see you."
"What about..." Simon's voice trailed off as he indicated Jim's leg.
Another smile, this one more of a reassurance gesture, crossed Jim's face as he readjusted his hold around Sandburg's shoulders. "It's okay. My partner fixed me up."
Simon saw a tentative look of nervousness appear on the younger man's face. It was unnerving to watch those normally sparkling eyes shadowed in fear and uncertainty. "Looks like he did a good job." The man knew he'd get the full story from Ellison as soon as things settled down.
More shots began again, this time firing from the surrounding area. Simon knew Thompson and this men were making their move.
"Who's here with you, Sir?"
It was the Captain's turn to grin. "You won't believe this but that's the FBI. A man named Thompson and his people." Simon saw Jim flash him a look of disgust. He knew Ellison was thinking of their dealings with the FBI in the past. Instances that had only served to make the working relationship between the federal agency and Cascade Police Department grate on everyone's nerves. After Simon had gotten over his initial shock of meeting an FBI agent who was actually willing to work with the local law enforcement rather than against it, he'd been anxious to introduce Thompson and his people to Jim. "This guy's not like any Fed we've worked with before. I think you'll be surprised."
The look on Ellison's face told Simon he was skeptical about the prediction but he'd deal with it later.
More shots sounded as the jewel thieves continued firing back at the federal agents.
Simon looked toward the area he could hear the heaviest gunfire. "I'd better see about lending a hand," he took a quick glance back inside the building. "You gonna be okay in here?" he asked.
"We'll be fine, Simon," Sandburg spoke up.
Simon and Jim both looked at him. The trust that emanated from the anthropologist was astounding. Whether that trust was in Jim or Simon or the feds didn't matter.
Simon pushed himself back out of the opening and crept to the front edge of the building. In the distance he could see Thompson's men spreading out. Simon smiled to himself. Jim and Sandburg had apparently been through hell. It was time to end this.
Jim watched Simon leave and heard more shots from what he presumed were the FBI agents. Simon had said he had been surprised by this Thompson, he hoped his Captain was right. He'd had enough bureaucratic garbage with his previous encounters with the FBI.
He felt Blair jump each time a bullet hit the building. "You okay, partner?"
"Yeah. It..it's just a little unnerving. You know?"
Jim saw him half-heartedly smile. It had to be rough to be hearing the gunshots and not be able to even tell how close they were coming. God he hoped Blair's blindness was temporary. He tightened his grip around the young man's shoulders again. "I know," he sighed, "We'll just sit here and wait while the feds and Simon do all the work. Okay?"
Sandburg made a slight scoffing sound and this time the smile on his face was stronger, "I thank you, but you hate it and you and I both know it," he said, attempting to look into Jim's face. "You want to be out there with them."
It was the truth, no matter how much Jim wanted to deny it. He thought again about how well Blair knew him.
"That's not tr...."
Jim was stopped short by his partner.
"Don't worry, man. I understand," Sandburg paused, letting Jim grasp that he really did understand, "It's part of your genetic makeup. You're a sentinel. You were born to guard and protect, not sit around on your butt comforting me."
Jim smiled. "What makes you think comforting you isn't part of guarding and protecting?"
"Oh. It is." Sandburg smiled too, an impish grin that could melt the coldest of hearts, "Why do you think I put up with you acting like my mother sometimes?"
"Your mother?" Jim's arm slipped from around his shoulders and he back away just the tiniest bit to let a hint of mock anger creep into his voice. "Your mother?" he repeated.
A soft laught erupted from Blair at the attempt of severity.
"You know what I mean," the younger man told him still trying to suppress the laughter in his voice.
"Yeah, well..."
"It's okay, really. I mean, I know you can't help it."
Jim glared at him a final time before grinning as well. "Alright, junior. I think that's enough."
"Junior!?" Blair made a disgusted face.
"My, my. How touching." The cold quiet voice from the back of the collapsed building startled both men as Jim instinctively began bringing up his gun in defense and trying to move himself between Blair and the man. He recognized the voice as belonging to the man who had been called Whittaker. "I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Whittaker continued, "Not unless you want 'junior's' brains splattered over the wall behind you."
It took more control than Jim knew he possessed to halt his gun hand, but Whittaker's gun was aimed directly at Blair and Jim wasn't about to take any chances with a mistake. Outside, he could hear sporadic gunfire as the FBI encountered the last of the thieves. Silently he cursed himself and his lapse. How could he have let this man sneak up on them? Dammit, he was a sentinel. Why hadn't he heard him? And where was Simon? Jim studied the other man through a glacial stare and felt a small amount of satisfaction as he noted the man looked as tired as Jim and Blair.
Whittaker was in his middle fifties, tall, about six foot with thinning gray hair. He looked out of place surrounded by the haphazard array of fallen timber and Jim judged he would have been more comfortable in boardrooms and high-class restaurants than the out-of-doors. "Toss it away," he said, motioning at Jim's gun with his weapon.
After a brief hesitation, Jim did as instructed, tossing the gun toward the doorway where it landed just outside the opening.
"Now," the man said quietly, his eyes flicking toward the sound of men shouting to each other beyond the building. "Where are the diamonds?"
Jim stared at him, refusing to answer.
"Come on. I don't have all day. Where...are the diamonds." His voice was hard.
Jim calculated how long he would be able to stall.
"Answer me...or I'll shoot the kid."
Jim felt Blair flinch beside him. His partner hadn't stirred since Whittaker had appeared. Blair couldn't see the gun trained on him, but he knew his partner was aware of what was happening from the conversation.
He hesitated a moment longer, but gave in when he noted the man's finger twitch slightly on the trigger of the gun.
"Okay. Take it easy," he heard a soft footstep beyond the walls behind them. "They're in the backpack," he said, indicating Blair's pack lying beside him.
He reached down, pulling the thermos containing the jewels from the pack and prepared to toss it to the man.
"No!" he said urgently, "Not you. You stay still. Him." He indicated Blair.
Blair's sightless eyes widened further as Jim place a protective arm across the front of his chest.
"Why?" he asked, his voice filled with suspicion.
"I don't trust you," Whittaker replied. "I want the young man to bring them to me."
Jim's eyes narrowed. He knew Whittaker had plans to use Blair as a hostage if given the chance. He had no intentions of letting that happen. "He can't."
Whittaker fingered the trigger of the gun again, "I do not have time for games." His words were measured and spoken low.
Jim took a deep breath to calm his anger. "He can't see," he told him equally as low. "If you want them, I'll toss them."
Whittaker paused as if thinking about it for a moment before agreeing. Jim knew he realized a blind hostage would slow him down as much as the crippled hostage. The man's chances of escape were rapidly shrinking.
"Alright. But I would advise you do so quickly or I 'will' shoot your friend."
Jim nodded and prepared to throw the container. His mentally calculated the distance and the
timing. He didn't know if Simon was close enough to help or not, but he was certain he and Blair were dead the moment Whittaker had the diamonds in hand.
Taking a deep breath he threw the container with deadly force, aiming directly for Whittaker's head and in the same motion threw his body against Blair, knocking him to the ground.
Jim felt his partner go down hard at the same instant he heard three distinct and separate shots.
His leg cried out in agony and for a moment he thought Whittaker's shot had caught him in his injured leg. He remained still, hearing a footstep behind him, unsure what had happened to Whittaker.
"JIM!" There was a moment of silence that sent Simon's heart in to overdrive. "ELLISON!" The captain's voice was laced with fear. God, please don't let them have come this far only to lose.
"Yeah, Simon. I'm okay."
Simon closed his eyes as he exhaled a pent-up breath. He continued to keep his gun trained on the unmoving form of the diamond thief as he saw Agent John Thompson advance and check for a pulse on the man. After a brief moment, the FBI agent looked up at him and shook his head.
Simon slowly lowered his gun and turned his attention back to his detective team. In the shadows of the building he could see deep lines of weariness and pain etched on Jim's face as he slowly pushed himself upright, then gently helped Sandburg to sit up. Both men needed medical attention as soon as possible.
Simon holstered his gun and knelt to help Jim as he motioned for Thompson's medic.
Jim slowly righted himself, wincing at the reawakened pain radiating upwards. He'd heard Simon call to him the first time but he had been preoccupied gauging Sandburg's condition. Jim had not had the opportunity to warn his partner of his intentions and being blinded, the blow to knock Sandburg to the floor for safety had caught the anthropologist completely unaware. Jim feared he'd caused more damage to his young friend.
After reassuring Simon that he was okay, at least not further injured, Jim turned his attention back to Blair.
"Hey. Chief," he said lifting Sandburg by the shoulders to face him once more. "You okay?" Jim's eyes searched the pale face. "Chief?"
"Ahh...yeah....yeah. I'm okay." A confused frown crossed the expressive face as he began to brush away unseen litter from the front of his jacket, "Are you done?"
"Done with what?" Jim asked, becoming concerned.
"Done with shoving me around. That hurt, man."
Jim stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. Whatever he had expected as a response from his partner, it wasn't the tone indignation. He shook his head in wonder and briefly embraced him once again.
"Jim?" Ellison heard the deep voice speak from behind him. He patted Sandburg's shoulder one last time before turning to Simon.
"Yeah Simon."
"We've got a medic here. He needs to check you and Sandburg over."
Jim nodded agreement as a stranger knelt beside Blair and began his cursory examination.
The FBI agents had taken possession of the bodies of Whittaker and his people along with the thermos containing the diamonds.
Jim had been impressed with and surprised by John Thompson. Simon had hurriedly explained a little more in depth about Thompson being different from most of their ususal contacts with the federal agency, but Jim hadn't believed him until the man had stepped forward to speak with the medic regarding his and Blair's conditions.
Jim had heard honest concern in the voice and after silently monitoring the man's heart beat he knew the concern had been genuine. Simon had been right. The man was different. It would be easy to work with him.
Simon had introduced them and Thompson had stayed nearby while Jim's leg had been checked and re-braced and Blair's eyes had been bandaged for protection against further damage. Then he had arranged for a helicopter to transport them back to Cascade along with Simon and himself.
Jim had heard his partner's heart rate increase at the news of the impending helicopter flight but the young man had remained silent. After what they had gone through with the airplane crash, it couldn't have been easy for the anthropologist to bring himself to get back on an aircraft of any type, and the fact that he couldn't see hadn't helped. Jim could tell Blair had been on the verge of refusing to go in the chopper and he still felt a twinge of regret at resorting to manipulation to get him onboard. All it had taken had been a single word from Jim that he needed his partner with him and the younger man had swallowed whatever protests and fears he'd had and climbed inside the helicopter.
He'd been quiet during the flight. Too quiet. And Jim hadn't needed his Sentinel abilities to hear the thundering of the young heart.
When the helicopter had lifted off, Sandburg had visibly paled and his hands had gripped at the only surface he could find in his dark world, the seat where he sat. At that instant, Jim felt more guilt than he would have imagined for his deception. Without hesitation he had casually placed his arm across Blair's shoulders and drawn him close. Sandburg had remained tense and quiet the entire trip but his hand had found it's way to the edge of Jim's jacket and the white knuckled grip hadn't lessened until they had reached the hospital where the two of them had been whisked away to a treatment room for care.
Now, several hours later Simon had left to help the FBI tie up a few loose ends and Jim was resting comfortably in Cascade General Hospital, waiting for his partner to join him.
They both had been suffering from dehydration and were being fed fluids through I.V.'s and the doctor had wanted more complete tests on Sandburg because of the head injury. To Jim's relief, the doctor had confirmed the blindness was temporary, caused by swelling of the tissue surrounding his optic nerve.
Jim silently thanked again whatever powers it was that watched over his partner. The blows he had taken to the head could easily have resulted in much worse damage than the temporary blindness and concussion he'd sustained.
His own injury would be taken care of soon. The doctor had scheduled him for surgery to repair ligament damage to his knee.
Jim couldn't help but smile to himself as he recalled the nearly inaudible sigh of relief he had heard from Sandburg from across the treatment room when the doctor had mentioned the surgery to his knee could be done with a local anaesthetic. He knew his partner had been worried about what effects the drugs would have on the sentinel's system. Their past experiences with any type of drugs, over-the-counter or prescription, had been less than stellar and they had yet to find the time, or on Jim's part, the inclination, to set aside the time needed to conduct the tests. He didn't even want to think about the Golden drug he had accidently gotten into his eyes. Jim shivered at the memories of him being blinded and Blair being reduced to life-support.
He leaned back in the bed with a sigh and felt the exhaustion and weariness creep up on him. The nurse said they should be finished with Sandburg in another half hour. Maybe he could catch a nap until they brought his partner in.
He settled deeper into the pillows and reminded himself to thank Simon for arranging for the two of them to be in the same room. He hated hospitals almost as much as Blair did. It would be comforting to know Sandburg was nearby. Jim smiled as he relaxed further. Besides, this way the hospital staff wouldn't be spending half their time trying to keep up with the wayward anthropologist searching for his partner. Jim suspected his captain had that in mind when he'd made the arrangement. He grinned and let himself drift.
Blair gripped the arms of the wheelchair as the nurse pushed him down the corridor. He had lost track of where Jim had gone during the tests the doctor insisted on preforming. He had heard his partner's reassurances that everything was okay and he wouldn't be far away but Blair knew Jim had needed his own injuries taken care of.
He felt a blush creep up his cheeks as he remembered the comfort he had gotten from Jim's arm across his shoulders in the helicopter. He had berated himself for needing the feeling of security but still couldn't deny the comfort the act had brought, not to mention the fact that he didn't think he would have been able to go through with the flight had his friend not been there. He would rather have ridden back in a car or Jim's truck. Hell, they'd already walked almost halfway back to Cascade, he wouldn't have minded walking the rest of the way. But Jim couldn't have walked and the sentinel's injury was worrying Blair more than the blindness he was experiencing.
Despite the FBI medic's approval of his treatment of the injury, he was concerned that he hadn't taken proper care of Jim's knee when he'd first been hurt. Suppose he'd done something to antagonize the injury and make it worse. Suppose he'd caused irreparable damage to the leg and Jim lost his job because he wasn't able to perform at the same level of physical efficiency as before. Suppose....
Blair cut himself off from that line of thought. No. Jim would be okay, the doctor said so. He had also confirmed they'd be able to do the surgery with a local instead of a general anaesthetic and with the advances in surgery of this type and a few weeks of physical therapy, Jim would be back at his job to full capacity in no time.
Blair breathed a sigh of relief as he heard voices pass him. He'd lost track of the length of time he'd been gone from the ER. He and Jim had been taken into the same treatment room when they had first arrived, but the medical staff had taken him for more of their tests and he'd been in more than one room. He wished he knew where Jim had gone and what was going on with his partner, but no one seemed able to tell him anything. He'd asked repeatedly, and each time he had been told someone would try to find out for him. He knew they were only placating him and his patience was beginning to wear thin. He was tired, sore, cranky, his head still hurt and he was more than a little bit scared. It was unnerving to be without his sight.
He knew he was fortunate the blindness was temporary and he was thankful. The doctor had explained what was causing it and that it would disappear in a few days but Blair still found his confidence lagging. His admiration and respect for the permanently blind had skyrocketed. It was just dawning on him how much he took his sight for granted on a daily basis. He vowed to be more aware and more thankful in the future.
The nurse slowed the wheelchair and Blair could hear her pushing open a door. They must have arrived at his room. He wondered once again what had happened to Jim. He wanted desperately to check on his partner but as of yet, the nurses had been unable to tell him what room his friend was in.
"Mr. Sandburg," the nurse whispered near his ear. He jumped, startled and a little angry at her thoughtlessness. He hadn't felt her leaning closer. "It looks like your roommate is sleeping. We need to be quiet."
Blair nodded glumly, without speaking. Great. Not only could he not find Jim but now they were putting him in a room with a sleeping stranger. He hoped Simon or one of the guys would be by soon. He could enlist their help in locating Jim.
Within minutes, the nurse had him situated in the bed. He couldn't see her but he heard her movements and suspected she was injecting a hypodermic into the I.V.attached to his arm. He had heard the doctor's orders for a pain reliever. As she made her final check, she instructed him to rest and let the medication he'd been given take affect.
That was easier said than done. Although he wanted to curl up and sleep for about a hundred years he was more concerned over his partner. He really wanted to find Jim and see how he was doing. He fumbled with the controls of the bed and managed to raise himself a little. Maybe, if he could stay awake long enough he could think of a way to find his partner.
Jim watched silently through drowsy eyes as the nurse helped Blair into the second bed of the small room. She finishing settling him into the bed, added something to the I.V. running into the younger man's arm then quietly checked Jim's leg once more before leaving.
They had re-bandaged Sandburg's eyes. The doctor had told Jim they would be doing it but that it was only for protection and the bandages would be removed in a day or so. The swelling would be reduced enough by that time for the kid to have his sight back.
Jim smiled at the strength of his partner. Sandburg had held together well considering the trauma he'd gone through. But then, the young anthropologist always seemed to bounce back fast. It was testament to his fortitude, an underlying strength he possessed that was often misjudged by people who didn't know him.
Jim knew him and was proud of that fact. Despite the trouble that seemed to tag along where ever the young man went, Jim couldn't imagine where his life would be without Blair Sandburg in it. He hoped he never had to find out.
He watched as his partner began restlessly shifting in the bed. He smiled to himself as he realized he was up to something. Blair was not comfortable unless he was in perpetual motion.
Jim waited until Sandburg had kicked free of the blankets covering him and started to swing his legs to the side of the bed.
"What do you think you're doing?"
His voice was low and carried the tone of authority he knew irritated the younger man, but the effect was exactly what he had hoped for. Sandburg had nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Oh God, Jim, man. Don't do that to me," Blair breathed, freezing in place.
Ellison had heard his heartbeat spike before leveling out and let a grin creep across his face.
"Going somewhere, Chief?"
It never ceased to amaze him how easily Blair's thoughts telecast across his face, even with half of it covered by gauze and tape.
"I was...I...ummm...I was...."
"Yes?" he asked innocently, waiting until Blair gave up trying to think of a believable answer.
Finally, the younger man turned his bandaged head in the direction of Jim's voice.
"Where have you been?" he asked.
Jim watched as he scooted himself back in the bed and felt around for the blanket he'd kicked loose earlier. "Right here. Waiting for you."
Sandburg stopped all movement.
"Here?" He cocked his head slightly, "Are you my sleeping roommate?"
Jim let his voice fill with the severe tone of someone who had been disturbed and didn't appreciate it. "I was. Until someone decided to try a midnight walk."
Blair cleared his throat self-consciously, "Sorry about that, man."
Jim smiled at the chastised look that crossed the lower half of the younger man's face, then sighed in weariness, "No problem, Chief. Just...stay in the bed. Okay?"
"I will," he promised, breathing deeply as the drug he'd been given took effect and he relaxed into the pile of pillows, "now that I know you're okay." He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Where'd Simon go?"
Jim yawned mightily, "He and Thompson went back to the station to finish the reports on Whittaker."
Blair pushed himself up on one elbow with effort, "So this Whittaker was the inside man on the diamond theft?"
"It looks that way. Thompson's got his people rechecking to make sure there were no others involved."
Sandburg lowered his head before asking his next question. "What about your friend, Mike Ryan?"
Jim couldn't help but smile. It had felt good to learn the truth about Ryan. "Turns out, Ryan was FBI too."
"What?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah. He'd been working undercover for months to establish his role as a smuggler. He was clean."
Blair heard the sadness in his partner's voice and knew Jim regretted his doubt of the man.
"Jim," he said softly, "I'm sorry. About your friend, I mean."
Jim looked down at his hands gripping the sheets on the bed. "It wasn't your fault, Chief."
"I know, but still..."
"Don't worry about it, buddy. Mike saved our lives during that crash. We couldn't have done anything else to help him. And the FBI will see that he's buried with the proper honors," his voice took on a faraway quality. "Mike'd like that."
Blair yawned this time and Jim could hear his voice running down. Whatever he had been given in the I.V. was beginning to take affect and was making him drowsy.
"At least Simon can't blame us this time."
Jim smiled. He had heard his captain remark on several occasions that trouble seemed to follow the two of them around. "I...ah...wouldn't bet on it."
"Yeah?" the younger man stifled another yawn, "How come?"
"I heard Simon asking Thompson if he had any openings for an anthropologist on his team."
Blair's jaw dropped open. "Why?"
Jim grinned again, "Simon offered to loan us as a team to the FBI for six months. He said something about needing a vacation and with you and I not around, even working would seem like a vacation."
Blair was unfazed by the jest. He was used to Simon's sputtering at the incidents they were continually involved in, besides, he was feeling really tired right now.
He yawned once again, "If Thompson decides to take him up on the offer, hold out for a position in Hawaii or at least southern Arizona, someplace warm..."
His voice drifted off and Jim could hear his breathing even out. He listened for a few more minutes to the steady rhythm of his partner's breath and the quiet sounds of the hospital, then sighed and relaxed himself.
It had been a close call for both of them but they were both safe and with a little rest they would both be back at work before long.
Jim closed his eyes. Yeah, they would both be fine and back to work before long.
The End.

