quips custodian ipso customs?
        Who shall guard the guardians themselves?

By K. Ryn


Following the yellow paint trail was like child's play after what 
they'd been through tracking the truck, and after a cautious 
start, Jim had pushed the pace as hard as he dared, hoping to 
make up for lost time. 

At first he'd been suspicious at the ease with which he'd found 
each scrape and broken limb, wondering if he was leading the 
search party into a trap. After thirty minutes of painstakingly 
checking every overturned rock, he'd finally begun to relax and 
give a little credit to his Sentinel-enhanced senses. It was easy 
to forget that what he saw and heard so clearly, was obscured 
to everyone else. He'd even tried dialing everything back to 
what would pass for "normal", and realized that without his 
special abilities, the evidence would have been very difficult to 
find.

Following the path deeper into the rugged forest, he'd found 
other traces of the bus' passage--a churned rut where the 
wheels had slipped on a downhill slope, a recently uprooted 
sapling that had been battered to the mossy ground, the broken 
shards of rock that held the slick odor of spattered oil--all 
indications that someone had driven the vehicle through the 
dense foliage in a hurry. 

He paused, fingers running lightly over another scrape of 
yellow on the trunk of a fallen tree, while he waited for Blair 
to catch up. Stretching out his senses to monitor his Guide, he 
frowned at what he found--Blair's breath was coming in rough, 
noisy gasps and his heart was beating rapidly as his already
stressed body battled the affects of the higher elevation and the 
strain of the pace that they'd been maintaining.

Still keeping tabs on his partner, Jim scanned the trail ahead, 
anxiously. The next paint marker was another fifty feet uphill, 
glowing in the shaft of pale sunlight that filtered through the 
leaves, seductively beckoning him forward. He closed his eyes, 
forcing himself to resist the urgent need to keep going. Feeling 
the painful throb of the headache that pounded against his 
eyelids, he struggled to dial down his sensitivity one more 
notch.

'Blair isn't the only one who's struggling,' he thought irritably. 
'We've been on the move for well over an hour and a half and 
Anders still hasn't called a break. No one's going to be in any 
shape to do anything, much less take on these murders, if we 
don't do it soon.'

"Ellison, do you copy?" 

As if in answer to his angry thoughts, Anders' voice thundered 
in the headset. Wincing at the increased pounding that it set 
off in his skull, Jim had to take a deep breath before 
answering.

"Yeah..."

"I just heard from Bailey. They found the ATV. Turns out it 
belongs to a group of vacationers. They claim that they went 
through the area where we found the tracks early this morning 
and one of them remembered passing a small school bus on the 
road. The bureau's checking them out now, but it doesn't look 
like they have any involvement in this. Looks like you called it
correctly."

Jim allowed himself a small sigh of relief. They were on the 
right trail after all. Maybe their luck was starting to change. 
"I've spotted the next marker, but there's still no sign of the 
bus." Jim glanced uphill once more as he continued his report. 
"I think we should regroup and give everyone a rest."

"Agreed, as long as it's a short break. If we don't find them 
soon, we'll have to take another look at our options."

"How much air support do you have available?" 

"Not much. Two choppers that are on sitting on standby and 
one medivac unit...."

*********************************

Blair's eyes had been fixed on the rough trail, listening to the 
discussion between Jim and Anders almost absently, more 
worried about stumbling over a hidden tree root than in their 
exchange. But as the voices in his headset began to break up, 
his attention shifted back to the conversation.

"How much ...air...  do you ...availab...?" 

With a crackle of static, the sound faded out altogether. He 
stopped and checked the connections, thinking that he might 
have pulled something loose. He played with the volume 
control as well, but nothing seemed to have any affect. 
Frustrated, he gave the unit a hard shake and was rewarded 
with a low level buzz, under which he thought he could detect 
whispers of sound.

'I'd need Jim's hearing to use this technological wonder. 
'Impressive resources', huh? Guess these were bought with 
whatever was left over after the government paid 1.2 million 
for that last hammer,' he mused darkly, tapping the earpiece in 
frustration.

He glanced uphill and saw that Jim was waiting for him next to 
a fallen tree, apparently still deep in the conversation with 
Anders and unaware of his partner's "technical" difficulties. 
Blair opened his mouth to call out to the older man, then 
snapped it shut as he realized what he had almost done.

'Jeez, Sandburg, you are brain-dead. There's no need to yell at 
the top of your lungs and draw a crowd. He's a Sentinel, 
remember? He can hear your heartbeat  from six floors away 
from a locked elevator, for crying out loud.'

"Uh, Jim? I've got a little problem here," he murmured, still 
shaking his head at his own foolishness.
 
He watched Jim spin around abruptly, the older man's hand 
going instinctively for his weapon.

"Whoa, Big Guy. Don't shoot. This thing's already on it's last 
legs." Blair tapped at the headset and added a "thumbs down" 
gesture for good measure, as he moved forward to close the 
distance between them.

A garbled whisper of sound reached his ear, and he shook his 
head.   

"No go, Jim. I can't hear you. The volume's all screwed up," 
Blair explained as he joined the older man. 

Disengaging himself from the unit, he handed it to his partner, 
dangling it by the cords like a dead mouse. The Sentinel's face 
tightened in annoyance, already in the midst of a heated 
discussion with the FBI agent.  

"Anders, I thought you said you'd had these headsets checked 
out..."

Blair watched as Jim did a very good impression of his own 
patented eye-rolling dismay, and chuckled softly, imagining 
Anders trying to explain away the problem.

"Well,  Sandburg's is out of commission...yeah...okay, I'll send 
him over." 

Jim shook his head in disgust and touched Blair on the 
shoulder, turning him slightly to the left as the Sentinel 
focused into the distance. "You see that stand of brush, to the 
left of that granite boulder?"

"The one on this side of the mountain, or two passes over?" 
Blair responded innocently.  He cringed a step away 
dramatically, as Jim glared at him, waving his hands in 
surrender. "Just checking, man," he grinned, enjoying the 
aggravated look on his partner's face. "Yeah, I see it...even 
without my glasses on. Is this a test? Do I get a prize for the 
right answer?"

"You're already a prize, Chief," Jim muttered, trying 
unsuccessfully to keep a similar grin off his own face. "Just 
hoof it over there and pick up a replacement, wise guy. Agent 
Dunn will swing over and meet you just beyond that rock."

"You know, Jim, this really isn't worth the trouble. I'd be 
perfectly happy without...."

"Go see the man, Sandburg," Jim growled, giving him a gentle 
shove to get him moving.

Blair shot the older man an offended glare, and made a show of 
stalking off in a huff. "Yes, Sahib, I go...I run...I stagger to do 
your bidding," Blair whispered, knowing full well that the 
Sentinel would hear every word of his good-natured harping. 
"'Go see the man,' he says. Like being sent to the principal's 
office or something. What I put up with....me....an almost full 
professor...sent off on yet another errand...."

***************************************

Jim watched the younger man pick his way across the rough 
ground, shaking his  head in wonder. Blair's resilience never 
ceased to amaze him. Minutes ago, Jim would have sworn that 
his partner was ready to drop like a stone from exhaustion. 
Now he was making wise-cracks and pushing all of the 
Sentinel's buttons, practically bouncing over anything that got 
in his path.

Winding his way through the trees, Blair passed out of Jim's 
line of sight for a moment, and the Sentinel felt a shiver run up 
his spine. He dialed up his hearing and relaxed when he picked 
up his Guide's playful, bantering monologue. Absently rubbing 
the back of his neck, Jim turned to look uphill again, his eyes 
drawn to the paint scratches that marked the trail. 

A soft, fitful gust of wind brushed his left cheek. He watched it 
ripple through the trees, his gaze flowing with it, carrying his 
sight to another yellow patch, even further away. Eyes 
narrowing in concentration, Jim sought to bring it into focus, 
drawn by a sudden awareness that something was different 
about what he'd just seen. The headache flared with a sharp 
burst of pain and he pushed it away in annoyance, dialing 
down his sensitivity to the throbbing ache. Pushing against his 
own limits and fatigue, the Sentinel zeroed in on his target, the 
rest of his world fading around him.

***************************************

Blair wasn't sure where his new burst of energy had come from, 
but he made the most of it, hurrying to the appointed meeting 
spot. He paused at the boulder and cast a quick look over his 
shoulder, immediately disconcerted by the older man's 
unusually still pose.

"Don't go zoning on me now, man," he whispered. "You hear 
me, Jim?" 

He'd expected the older man to turn toward him or show some 
response, but there was no movement. Nothing to show that 
he'd been heard. Growing alarmed, Blair tried again, raising his 
voice slightly.

"Damn it, Ellison, when are you gonna learn to wait until I'm 
with you to play superman? Can't leave you alone for a minute, 
can I? Come on, Big Guy, pull out of it!"

Panic flared and he swallowed hard to contain it. Glancing 
around wildly, he looked desperately for the agent he was 
supposed to meet. Where the hell was the guy? He felt the soft 
caress of the breeze on his face and for a moment, he thought 
he caught a whiff of perfume. Pushing the irrelevant sensation
aside, he turned toward the Sentinel again, nervously running 
his hands through his hair as it shifted in the wind, trying to 
keep it from obscuring his sight. 

"Jim, you've got to listen to me...hear my voice..." he 
murmured, pitching his voice with an urgency that he hoped 
would reach his friend.  

The breeze buffeted him from behind and he nearly allowed it 
to carry him toward his partner, before he realized that the 
sweet fragrance that he'd smelled before was back. Distracted, 
he turned into the wind and took a deep breath. Yes, it was 
perfume, but there was something else, too--a sour, almost 
metallic smell. Puzzled by the elusive odor, he took two steps 
forward and parted the hedge of bushes.

And froze.

************************************

Whispers of sound stroked across the Sentinel's awareness, 
slowly pulling him back from the void. Sound became 
vibration, growing more intense, more compelling. Vibration 
that transformed finally to a single, comprehensible word, 
whispered by an anguished soul.

[Jim....]

The tortured cry of his Guide connected itself to the sense of 
urgency and the real world returned in a rush of overloaded 
sensation.

Gasping for breath, Jim whirled, driven by the desperate need 
to locate his partner. The stench of blood-drenched wind 
staggered him. Shuddering, he wrenched at his  imaginary dials 
in a frantic attempt to bring his flooded senses into line, nearly 
dropping to his knees as his controls slammed into place. 

Bolting forward, he savagely thrust away the overwhelming 
awareness of  the deadly, coppery smell. He focused on the 
place that he'd last seen Blair, and sent his hearing ahead, like 
an arrow, speeding through the trees. He crashed through a 
thicket of brush, straining for the familiar heartbeat of his 
young Guide, and was rewarded with the thundering of a trip-
hammer pulse. The sound had barely registered in his ears 
when he caught sight of his friend, standing motionless near 
the granite boulder, just where he'd been told to wait. 

He almost screamed at the relief of finding the anthropologist 
alive, and apparently unharmed, but then the whisper reached 
him again, accompanied by the smell that he'd tried to evade. 

[Jim....]

The Sentinel crossed the remaining distance already knowing 
what he would find, fearing only the degree of the horror that 
had transfixed his Guide. A quick glance into the brush 
imprinted the scene on his own mind forever-the glimpse of 
red hair was all that he needed to see to identify the body. 
They had been too late to save Amanda Sims. Turning to Blair, 
he started to reach out to draw him away, but the look on his 
partner's face halted him and his own heart lurched in fear.

It was as if his mind had found a way to shut out the horrifying 
scene, but had forgotten to tell his body to do the same. Blair's 
eyes were open, staring toward the bloody corpse of the young 
teacher, but unfocused, the brightly lit windows to the 
anthropologist's soul tightly shuttered. His face was so pale 
that it was almost translucent, the throbbing veins at his 
temples, pulsing wildly in time to the pounding heart. His lips 
were moving, repeating Jim's name over and over again, but 
there was no sound beyond the whisper of air that flowed in 
and out of the painfully laboring lungs.
 
"Ellison? I thought...what the hell...?" 

A fatigue-dressed figure rounded the boulder, and Jim jerked 
in surprise. It took him a moment to recognize the FBI agent 
that Blair had been sent to meet. 

"Get Anders and the rest of the teams here, now," he hissed, 
moving between Dunn and his stunned partner to shield Blair 
from the man's prying stare.

"But...."

"Move, damn it!" Jim shoved the agent backward, his building 
anger pushing him to unleash his frustration on the closest 
target. 

The man hesitated for only a second, and then stumbled away 
to carry out Jim's orders. As soon as the agent had passed the 
boulder, Jim turned back to his partner, entirely focused on 
finding a way to bring the younger man out of his shocked 
trance. Easing in front of his Guide, he gently placed his hands 
on Blair's shoulders. He felt the younger man's trembling and 
kept them there for a few moments, then stroked his palms 
lightly down the anthropologist's arms, stopping to grip Blair's 
upper arms lightly before returning to hold the slim shoulder's. 

"Blair...." he whispered his Guide's name, feeling the trembling 
increase, but seeing no change in the vacant stare.

He gave a light squeeze to the shoulders again, then slid his 
hands up the side of Blair's neck, resting his thumbs for a few 
seconds on the pulsing veins before cradling the pale face in 
his palms. 

"Blair, it's Jim....I know you're in there, buddy...I need you to 
listen to me....just hear my voice and let me lead you  back ...." 
he breathed the words out like a prayer, and then tipped the 
younger man's head back slightly so that he could look down 
into his Guide's eyes.

He had to fight his own shudders at the black glassy circles 
that reflected his own image. Blair's pupils were so far dilated 
that Jim could hardly see any of the iris. And what blue he 
could see was flecked with brown. 

"Come on, Chief....you always find a way to help me..." Jim 
pleaded. "I need some help here, buddy....You're the Guide, 
remember?"

He felt a shiver ripple through the younger man and then 
another. Slowly, the long dark lashes swept down, shuttering 
the eyes completely. When they raised again, a few seconds 
later, the familiar blue eyes of his Guide stared up at him in 
startled recognition, and Jim felt the sudden tensing of muscles 
as Blair started to pull away.

"Jim....?" 

The strangled gasp was like music to the Sentinel's ears. He 
tightened his grip to hold the younger man in place and tried to 
pitch his voice in imitation of his Guide's soothing tones. 
"Easy...it's all right...."  

Another blink and this time it was confusion that filled Blair's 
eyes.  "What...what happened....?"

"I think you just had a Guide's version of a zone-out," Jim said 
softly, letting his hands drop back to the anthropologist's 
shoulders in support.

"A zone....no...not me...you...." Blair stammered, a flicker of 
fear darting across his face. "You were zoning. I saw you. I 
tried to talk you out of it from here, but I couldn't reach you...I 
was going to head back to shake you out of it, but I smelled 
something....perfume and something else...it was right here...."

Suddenly Jim realized where his partner's thoughts were taking 
him and he shifted to try to block the hideous view that lay 
only a few feet away. "Blair...don't!"

But both his warning and movement were too late. The 
younger man's eyes widened in shock at the sight of the 
ravaged body. With a curse at his own stupidity, the Sentinel 
spun his Guide around, propelling him away from the murder 
site. With a despairing groan, Blair jerked out of the older 
man's hold and stumbled forward for a few steps before falling 
to his knees. Jim was at his side immediately, gently pulling 
him back to his feet and leading him a few yards further, easing 
the shaking body down to rest against a massive fallen tree. 

Blair curled into a huddled ball, his fingers laced behind his 
head, the long, tangled curls draping his face as he rocked 
rhythmically, his breath catching in sobbing gasps. Jim knelt 
beside him, one hand on his Guide's shoulder, anchoring the 
younger man with a reminder of his physical presence, just as 
Blair had done for him so many times. They sat that way, 
Sentinel sheltering his Guide, until the tears stopped. 

Blair's breathing had began to ease when Jim heard a crackle in 
his headset. Before Anders' voice could intrude on the small 
patch of safety and sanity he had created, he shut the unit off. 
Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of the approaching 
teams. Even without the headset, he could hear Anders' asking 
where they were, demanding an explanation of what they'd 
found.

He looked down at Blair and hesitated. He didn't want to leave 
his young charge, but he knew that if he didn't go back to meet 
with the agent, Anders would come looking for him, and he 
wanted to give his partner as much time as he could to get 
himself together before facing the man again. Jim wanted 
nothing more than to send Blair out of this mess and away 
from Anders' disturbing presence, but after what they had just 
gone through, there was no way he was letting his Guide out of 
his sight unless he could accompany him. And there was no 
time to do that--especially if he was right about what he'd
discovered, just before he had zoned--that the distant splash of 
yellow that he'd seen was far too large to be another scraped 
tree limb. There was a good chance it was the bus itself. 

He squeezed Blair's shoulder gently. "I should go take care of a 
few things. Will you be all right for a few minutes?"

Wearily, the younger man unclasped his hands and raised his 
head. Drawing in a slow, deep breath, he nodded, wiping away 
the traces of tears with the back of his hand. 

"Yeah....I just need a few minutes...." came the hoarse reply.

"Okay. Stay put. Drink something if you can. It'll help." Giving 
the younger man a soft pat on the arm, Jim rose to his feet. He 
gave his Guide a final measuring look, then headed toward the 
waiting men.

*************************************

Blair shuddered as he watched Jim walk away, knowing that 
every step he took brought the Sentinel closer to death. What 
he didn't know was whether it was the young teacher's bloody 
body or Anders' smiling presence that promised that certainty 
to his soul.

**************************************

With light tendrils of awareness still wrapped around his 
young partner, Jim approached the waiting group of searchers. 
His jaw clenched angrily as he picked up Anders' urgent 
questions and Dunn's rapid responses.

"Maybe you overreacted. Are you sure Ellison was..."

"I'm telling you he was nuts! He was in my face and pushing 
me away from Sandburg like some avenging angel or 
something. I thought for a second he was going to kill me if I 
took another step. And the kid looked like he was a zombie, 
just standing there staring..."

"So Sandburg found the body, then?"

At the eagerness in the man's tone, Jim's ambivalent feelings 
toward Anders crystallized into intense dislike, bordering on 
hatred, and he had to fight to keep his emotions under control 
and his words civil. 

"He found it," Jim snapped, stalking up to them. "The question 
is, why didn't you?" he hissed, taking a step forward to place 
himself in Dunn's space, his eyes flashing ice-blue fire.

For a second, Dunn drew back, his eyes widening in startled 
fear, then he pulled himself together and leaned back in toward 
Jim, his posture totally aggressive. 

"Why you..."

"That's enough," Anders ordered, stepping in to pushing them 
apart. 

"What the hell kind of sweep were you doing?" Jim snarled, 
shaking off Anders' hand, but not backing off. "That was your 
section. There's no way you should have missed that body."

"Listen you freaking..." Dunn growled, shifting forward again, 
his hands balling into fists.

"Dunn! Shut it!" barked  Anders, his glare silencing the other 
agent. Still keeping his eyes on Dunn, the older man spoke 
quietly, directing his words to both of them. "This case is 
getting to everyone. Let's just try to keep a handle on our 
emotions and our minds on what we're here to do. Now go and 
cool off, Dunn."

For a moment, Jim wasn't certain that the agent was going to 
back down, but finally the man shrugged and turned away, 
shooting him one more glare. Jim's response was automatic, 
stepping forward to finish the confrontation, but Anders' hand 
on his chest stopped him. 

"Let it go, Ellison," Anders said quietly.

The Sentinel's anger shifted to the older agent and he brushed 
off the hold in irritation.  More than ready to take on the man, 
Jim suddenly paused and turned slightly in Blair's direction, 
sensing a change from his young partner.

Seeing Blair on his feet and staring at them, Jim took a deep 
breath and physically stepped back, shaking his head. He 
forced himself to get a handle on his temper, all too aware that 
if he didn't, he'd have his Guide by his side in another few 
seconds, and that was the last thing he wanted.  

"Just make sure he does his job from now on," Jim warned. 
"Make sure they all do. I don't like accidents and I don't believe 
in coincidence. There's been too much of both on this case."

"Just what are you implying, detective?" Anders asked, a hint 
of challenge coloring his own words.

Jim looked the older agent in the eye and found himself staring 
into that cold gray gaze, wondering what was really going 
inside the man's mind. A warning shiver ran up his spine and 
the tone of his answer carried that coldness.

"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating a fact. I don't make it a 
practice of putting either myself or my partner in jeopardy. If I 
had a choice, I'd pull out of this right now.  We're hunting 
some very dangerous people. We can't afford to be making 
mistakes at this point."

Their gazes stayed locked and Jim's body tensed until the older 
man nodded.

"I agree. Look, I'm sorry about your partner finding the body, 
but Dunn's not to blame. Everyone's doing what they can here. 
We're stretched pretty thin...."

"Too thin to be thinking and acting professionally?" Jim 
muttered in disgust.

He shook his head and stepped away to kneel beside the body. 
He closed his eyes for a moment  and took several deep breaths 
to focus himself, before opening up his senses, absorbing the 
sensory assault for a few seconds before dialing everything 
back. Without moving from the side of the corpse he glanced
up, staring across the short distance to where Blair still stood 
next to the fallen tree. He "heard" the increase in his partner's 
heartbeat and shot him a firm stare, silently ordering the 
younger man to stay where he was.

[You sure you don't need me there?] 

Jim shook his head again in answer to his Guide's whispered 
question. To his surprise, Blair followed his instructions, 
although Jim could still hear his pulse racing. Turning his 
attention back to the body, Jim tried to look at the dead young 
woman objectively, but it was difficult. He had to keep 
pushing away the memories of their last case, especially the 
image of Patty Hammond's body that his mind kept 
superimposing over this one. 

There were certainly enough similarities, he mused darkly--two 
lives ended far too early, both killed with knives, both corpses 
bathed in blood. He shuddered, realizing that the common 
elements of the deaths were probably what had triggered his 
Guide's response. *God, why did it have to be Blair that found 
her?* He felt another surge of anger and fought to channel it 
into a more productive direction.

He sat back on his heels for a moment and closed his eyes, 
concentrating on the evidence that he had. *Throat slashed, 
just like the driver, so probably the same killer. Strong smell of 
perfume, skin still slightly warm....*

His eyes flashed open and he looked up at Anders.

"The Bureau confirm anything on our vacationers yet?" he 
asked quickly.

"Still sorting them out, but so far, nothing out of the ordinary. 
Why?"

"Something doesn't make sense. This body's still warm. I'd 
guess that she was killed less than two hours ago," Jim replied, 
frowning as he rose to his feet. "That should mean that we're 
getting closer, but the evidence trail we've been following is 
older than that."

"If that's true, then they would have had to double back on 
their trail to leave the body here," Anders observed. "Doesn't 
seem likely."

"No, it doesn't." Jim shifted his gaze and stared off into the 
distance, focusing on the paint scrapes he'd found. "We need to 
get moving. You might want to call up that air support and 
have them standing by. I've got a feeling we're not too far from 
finding that bus."

"Already done. I had Fredericks contact them as soon as Dunn 
reported the body. I've got Bailey on the move as well. He's left 
a team with the people at the ATV and he's headed our way. 
Should be here within an hour or so."
 
"He'll have to catch up with us then. We can't wait that long. 
Tell them to keep it quiet. I don't want to alert anyone to our 
presence. And tell him not to make a move until he's cleared it 
with me."

Jim's tone brooked no argument as he took command of the 
situation. He didn't care if Anders liked it or not. He'd all but 
told the man that he didn't like the way the operation was being 
run. If they were as close as he thought to the bus, then they 
might also be close to the kidnappers and the killer. He didn't 
want Bailey charging in and putting anyone--particularly his 
partner and the missing children--at risk.

"All right, you're on point. It'll be your call," the older agent 
agreed. He slipped off his own headset and handed it to Jim 
with a small shake of his head, as if in apology for the earlier 
malfunctions. The Sentinel accepted the unit without a word, 
turned on his heel and went to join his waiting, anxious Guide. 

**********************************

Blair tried to find out what had happened as soon as Jim 
rejoined him, but the older man waved off his comments, 
taking him by the arm and steering him back toward the search 
path, away from the grisly murder scene. He started to protest, 
but the grip on his bicep tightened, matching the clenching of 
his partner's jaw, so he allowed himself to be towed along. 
Once they were well ahead of the others and partially masked 
by a heavy stand of trees, Jim swung him around abruptly, 
holding him tightly by both arms and glaring down at him.

"Jim...."

"Quiet!"

"Jim, come on...."

"Damn it, Sandburg, just be quiet for a minute," the older man 
hissed, his sharp gaze fixing Blair in place as firmly as his 
hands were. 

He fell silent and still, waiting out the scrutiny, knowing that 
Jim was "reading" all the physical signals he was sending out. 
Under that measuring stare, Blair felt like he was being 
examined inside and out. As stretched and exhausted as he 
was, he was certain that he was going to fail the Sentinel's
sensory test, so he was amazed when the vice-like grip on his 
arms eased and the gaze softened slightly.

"You're all right?" 

"After what you just did, you shouldn't have to ask," Blair said 
softly.

"I'd feel better if one of my senses could get inside that head of 
yours, Chief," Jim responded, shaking his head. "Then I'd 
know for sure."

"Trust me, Jim. You DON'T want to go there," he responded 
with a slight grin.

"You're wrong, Blair," Jim countered, his voice flat and tinged 
with anger. "That's exactly where I want to go. What we're 
doing here is dangerous. Somehow I need to drive that point 
into that thick skull of yours and I know from past experience 
that half of what I say goes in and the rest you divert off into 
some other plane of existence that only you're aware of. This 
whole thing could get out of hand without warning and where 
will you be? Right in the middle of it without engaging your 
brain first."

"If that's where you are, then that's where I'll be," Blair said 
determinedly, his grin evaporating, but his gaze remaining 
steady.

"If I had the option I'd get you out of here now, but I can't," Jim 
growled, giving him a hard shake. "That's my fault. I never 
should have let you come. You're in no shape for this, 
physically or emotionally and your sense of self- preservation 
seems to have disappeared completely. I told you to stay put 
back there, to keep out of it, yet ten minutes after I pull you 
out of some weird trance you're ready to jump back in with 
both feet like nothing happened. Don't bother to deny it. I saw 
that look on your face. What the hell were you thinking?"

"Jim, you should know me well enough by now to accept that 
it's not my head that makes those decisions for me, but my 
heart," Blair said quietly, his eyes not leaving the older man's. 
"Especially where your safety is concerned."

"We're not talking about my safety here. We're talking about 
yours."
 
"Well, since they're intertwined at the moment...." 

"Damn it, Blair, you're too important to me to lose because you 
won't take this seriously."

"I am taking this seriously!" Blair snapped, pulling from the 
older man's hold. He stepped back a pace and glanced back the 
way they had come, then turned to meet the Sentinel's confused 
and angry glare. "And you're wrong. This isn't about me, it's 
about you. I know it doesn't make sense, Jim, but there's 
something about all of this, and particularly about Anders that 
scares the hell out of me."

"This is about the panic attacks isn't it? How can it make sense 
when you won't talk to me about it?"
 
"I said I would...."

"When?"

Blair opened his mouth to answer and then closed it with a 
snap, whirling away from the Sentinel. He took two steps, 
intent on running like hell, but instead, he grabbed onto the 
fragile reins of what was left of his willpower and came to an 
abrupt stop. With his back to the older man, he closed his
eyes, clenching his fists at his sides. He felt the warmth of 
Jim's hand on his shoulder and he opened his eyes, staring 
straight ahead. "I don't understand it, and I'm afraid to try," he 
whispered.

"Then we'll tackle it together," Jim said softly, turning him 
slowly so that their gazes met once again. "Right now, I need 
your promise that you'll do exactly what I say, when I say it. 
You don't go anywhere, or do anything without a signal from 
me first."

"I thought that's what I agreed to when we first started working 
together?" 

"Yeah, and I'm still waiting for you to follow through on it."
 
"Okay. Observer rules. I got it," Blair muttered softly. 

"Just see that you remember this time, Chief." 

'And the second you get in the line of fire, Ellison, all rules are 
off again, you remember that, too,' Blair thought grimly as he 
nodded, acknowledging his partner's comment.

Jim squeezed his shoulder once more and prodded him 
forward, quietly explaining what he'd found and what he 
thought they we headed into. 

**********************************

Joel Taggert looked up in surprise as the outer doors to the 
Major Crimes Unit offices crashed shut with a deafening bang. 
Glancing out through the blinds of his own office windows he 
caught sight of a dark visage stalking through the bullpen and 
grimaced. Closing his eyes he started to count slowly under his
breath--he'd seen the lightening flash, now he was waiting for 
the roll of thunder to see just how close the storm really was.
He grimaced when he heard another crash of rattling glass and 
wood--the door to Simon's own office. "Eight...usually takes 
'til ten to get through the bullpen. Must have been a 'bad' 
meeting," he thought to himself.

Joel glanced at his watch and shook his head. "3:30, no 
wonder he's bent out of shape. Wonder who's program got the 
ax this time. Hope it wasn't one of ours." With surprising 
agility for a man his size, he eased out from behind his desk, 
picked up his coffee cup and headed to the break room. He 
managed to suppress a smile, observing the sudden increase in 
the level of activity in the bullpen. Everyone knew that dealing 
with the upper levels of bureaucracy was Simon's least favorite 
thing to do. Budget days were the worst and judging from the 
length of this meeting and the Richter scale level of the door
slamming, the captain's patience level was exhausted. Looking 
busy was key at this point, evacuating the scene until things 
cooled off an even better option, if you could create a plausible 
reason for it.

Joel filled his cup and peered through the break room blinds, 
eyeing Simon's office intently. Banks was pacing, the anger 
flowing off of him in waves. Joel frowned. This was more than 
just frustration for the bureaucratic process. Simon never let 
his impatience with the bean counters get this far out of 
control. No, it had to be something else. He was worried about 
something or someone. Or, more correctly, two someones. 
Ellison and Sandburg. 

Joel shook his head again, his own concern for the two men 
resurfacing. He admitted he had a soft spot where Sandburg 
was concerned, but during their last case, he'd also seen the 
toll it was taking on Ellison. He'd seen them when they'd come 
in that morning, looking like death warmed over, the kid's
usual bounce and energy missing, the detective even more 
closed down than usual. He knew that Simon had seen it. He'd 
been certain that Bank's had planned to give them a break, even 
though the waiting caseload was overwhelming. Simon 
demanded a lot, but he took care of his people and Ellison
was more than just the unit's best detective--he was a good 
friend. And, although Joel was sure he'd never admit it out 
loud, Simon liked the young grad student as well. He made 
less than tolerant noises about Sandburg's presence, but 
underneath that, Taggert could sense a growing respect and
trust. 

"Kid does have a way of getting under your skin, doesn't he?" 
he murmured, grinning at his own reflection in the glass for a 
moment.

The grin turned to a frown as he considered Simon's current 
mindset. Banks hadn't been happy about sending the partners 
off on that search and rescue mission. Word was the mayor had 
approved it over his head. Maybe that's what had him steaming. 

He refocused his attention on Simon. The big man was 
standing behind his desk now, phone in his hand. Something 
in his frozen posture made Joel uneasy and he slipped out of 
the break room. Crossing to Simon's office, Joel hesitated 
outside the captain's closed door, waiting until the other man 
put down the phone before pushing the door open a few feet. 
The angry expression on the man's face told him that whatever 
the phone call had been about, it wasn't  good news.

"Simon?" he asked softly, not sure whether his interruption 
was welcome. Banks looked up abruptly and Joel saw definite 
worry in the captain's eyes. "What is it?"

"Joel...come in and shut the door. We've got a problem..." 
Simon said softly. 

**********************************

Jim gestured quickly and Blair dropped to the ground behind 
him, edging closer to bring himself to the older man's side. 
They were thirty feet from the edge of a small clearing and 
through the trees he could see the shape of the small school 
bus, perched on the far side. He turned to look up at Jim's face, 
not hardly daring to breathe as he watched the Sentinel at 
work, scanning ahead with his senses, probing for the signs of 
life they were so desperate to find.

He swallowed hard and tried not to let his imagination run 
ahead. Tried not to think of what could be waiting for them. 
The thought of finding more bodies, particularly those of the 
children sickened him beyond belief. He felt an internal "push" 
at his emotions and shook his head, attempting to slam the 
door on another attack.

'Not here, not now!' he pleaded desperately with himself. 

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, willing the feelings to 
subside and after a few moments, the sensation began to ebb 
away. Taking a deep breath, he focused back on his partner, 
grateful that the older man had been too absorbed in his search 
to notice. 

"Anything?" he whispered hopefully. The Sentinel didn't 
answer immediately and  Blair reached out to touch him gently 
on the arm. "Jim....?"

The older man's head slowly swiveled in his direction, and he 
watched the almost expressionless face carefully. Jim Ellison 
was a hard man to read, but Blair had gotten pretty good at it. 
Now he was looking at the small signs that he'd learned meant 
trouble. His eyes widened and he felt his body start to tremble. 
Jim's hand was immediately on his arm, steadying him. 

"There's nothing there, Chief. Nothing. No heartbeats, but no 
bodies, either," Jim said softly.

Blair felt too numb to speak, so he simply nodded. 
Disappointing as it was not to find the children, the alternative 
could have been far worse. He stayed silent as Jim contacted 
the rest of the search teams, ordering them to move forward, 
but to keep their eyes open. At his partner's gentle urging he 
rose to his feet and followed in the older man's footsteps as he 
made his way stealthily toward the clearing. At the edge of the 
trees, Jim stopped and drew his gun, motioning for Blair to 
remain behind.

Sinking down into a crouch, Blair watched as Jim crossed the 
clearing to the bus and climbed on board. His heart was 
pounding even though he knew that the Sentinel had evaluated 
the scene and determined the absence of danger before they'd 
arrived. His gaze flickered around the clearing, noting the 
appearance of the other members of the search teams, watching 
as they converged on the vehicle. When Jim reappeared, he 
almost rose to his feet , but just in time, he remembered the 
stern set of orders that he'd agreed to and stayed where he was. 
He saw the others milling about and nodded absently when he 
heard Dunn contact the reserve party over the headset, ordering 
them to bring up the vehicles. He chafed at the restrictions that 
Jim had set, wanting to know what the Sentinel had 
discovered, but he didn't move until Jim waved him over.

"Anders is going to deploy the rest of the teams to search the 
perimeter of the clearing," Jim informed him when he joined 
his partner at the front door of the bus. "I wanted you to help 
me take a look inside. They didn't leave us much."

Blair nodded and followed the Sentinel inside the vehicle. 
"Take a deep breath, Jim and concentrate. Don't filter anything 
out right now. Just take it all in. We'll sort it out later," he 
advised.

They walked the length of the bus, two sets of experienced 
eyes scanning the interior, pausing to search under each bench-
like seat, examining the few items left behind--a tiny pink 
compact filled with Polly Pockets; a well worn sweatshirt that 
looked like it had belonged to at least one older brother before 
becoming the property of its latest owner; several cartoon-
emblazoned backpacks, filled with school books and pencils. 
Then with Blair at his back, Jim walked it again, with each of 
his senses wide open. At the end of fifteen minutes, they still 
had nothing to go on--Jim hadn't even found a smudged 
fingerprint. The kidnappers had been very thorough. 

With a discouraged gesture, Jim motioned for Blair to follow 
him as he exited the bus. Lingering behind for just a moment, 
Blair turned at the top of the steps and stared at the vacant 
seats, trying to imagine the seven smiling, innocent faces that 
the photo had captured. Somehow he couldn't do it. The bus 
felt so empty, so devoid of any sense of life, that he couldn't 
envision the children at all.  

"I don't get it, Jim," he murmured, scrubbing at his face in tired
exasperation when he rejoined his partner outside. "Does this 
mean that they're still ahead of us? Or did we miss something 
along the way?"

"We didn't miss anything, Chief. We were led here," Jim 
answered softly. "Somebody wanted us to find this bus, just 
like they wanted us to find the driver and the teacher. Maybe 
these people like playing games, or maybe Anders and his men 
missed something on the road before we joined them. I don't 
know."

Blair watched the Sentinel wince as he rubbed his own eyes in 
weariness.

"You need to rest and eat something, man. That's got to be one 
killer headache by now," Blair observed, his voice filled with 
concern.

Jim shot him a bemused look. "This advice coming from the 
man who exists on granola and four hours sleep during exam 
week."

"Hey, I'm used to it, Big Guy. You're the one who needs three 
squares a day and wants absolute quiet after 10 pm."

"Guess we could all use a break," Jim responded. "I'll have a 
word with Anders. If his men haven't found any signs leaving 
the clearing, we may end up pitching camp here to regroup and 
determine a new strategy. We've only got an hour or so left to 
keep looking. Once we start losing daylight we'll be stumbling 
around in the dark."

"Well, not all of us...." 

Jim gave him a scowl and a gentle shove that propelled him 
toward the supply truck. "Go see if there's anything more 
inviting to eat than what we've got in our packs. I'll join you in 
a few minutes." 
 
*********************************

After a less than satisfactory discussion with Anders, Jim went 
looking for his partner, following the thump of the familiar 
heartbeat to the south end of the clearing, where Blair was 
perched atop a small pile of boulders. Easing to the mossy 
ground at the base of the rocks, the Sentinel leaned back and
gratefully took the water bottle that the younger man offered. 
Sipping from it, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. His body 
bought into the plan, but his mind was still turning over the 
puzzle before them and was getting nowhere fast. Grudgingly, 
he finally realized that the only thing he was doing was
aggravating the headache that his Guide had nailed him on.

The soft whisper of denim dragging across granite prompted 
him to open his eyes. Glancing up, he found that Blair had 
repositioned himself on the boulders, effectively shielding Jim 
from Anders' and the rest of the search party's view. 

"I thought the 'Protector Thing' was my job," he said softly. 

The younger man's gaze shifted to him immediately and held 
there for a moment, before he shrugged and looked away.

Jim's eyes narrowed in concern as he watched his partner. The 
anthropologist's drawn face and too tense body; the jerky, 
uncoordinated movements he made as he reached into his pack 
for a package of trail rations, all spoke volumes about how "not 
right" he was with the world. Jim took a quick look around,
noting the location of Anders' and his men and decided that 
the time had come for some answers. 
 
"Okay, Chief," Jim said softly. "This is the best chance we're 
going to get. Talk to me."

Blair glanced nervously over his shoulder and shook his head. 
"Jim, I really don't think...."

"Sandburg...."

"Okay....jeez, you sound like Naomi when I was six."

"What happened when you were..." Jim caught himself before 
falling into the trap. As usual, Blair was trying to redirect the 
conversation. "Oh, no, not this time. Stick to the subject at 
hand, Chief. Tell me what you can about these attacks."

Having caught him in the act, Jim half-expected the familiar 
roll of the eyes and quirky grin as a response. Instead, Blair 
huddled into himself, his gaze fixed on the ground, his 
normally active hands clasped tightly together. The intense, 
strained stillness was so unlike his partner that Jim took a deep 
breath, preparing himself for the worst. 

"I'm not sure I can explain it," Blair finally answered. "It's kind 
of like getting hit with an emotional sledgehammer. Just 
...'wham'."

"'Wham'? That's it? You, the master of the 'use three hundred 
words to explain what most people would say in five' routine 
are giving me 'Wham'?"

"Guess I'm working on brevity, man."

"That'll be the day," Jim muttered, closing his eyes, his fingers 
rubbing none too gently at his forehead.

"Headache still pretty intense, huh?" Blair's voice dropped in 
pitch and volume, taking on a soothing resonance. "Maybe if 
you...."

Jim's eyes opened and he fixed the younger man with a glare. 
"Don't even think about it, Sandburg. It's not going to happen 
this time."

"What?"

"Changing the focus of this conversation from you to me. You 
know I'm practically programmed to respond to that tone in 
your voice when you shift into your 'Guide' mode. You use that 
trick whenever you want to avoid talking to me." 

"That's pretty cold, Jim," Blair's eyes reflected a sudden flicker 
of anger. "I know you're in some major pain here. I was just 
trying to help. You want to handle it on your own, then fine."

Jim's hand on his knee stopped him before he could get to his 
feet. 

"Blair..." Jim tried to get the younger man to meet his eyes, but 
the anthropologist dropped his head and sat in sullen silence. 
Momentarily at a loss for words to repair the damage his 
comments had caused, Jim reached out with his senses through 
their physical link. He could feel the tension in the younger 
man's body and the minute shivering that could be attributed to 
either exhaustion or anger.

*Or both. Apologize, Ellison, or you're never going to get him 
to open up.*

"I didn't mean it that way," Jim murmured. "I'm worried about 
you. I realized  back on the helicopter that something's been 
wrong for a while, and with everything that's happened... I 
guess I've been aiming these senses of mine in every direction, 
but you. There's no excuse for that. And no excuse for jumping 
down your throat, either. I know you don't take being my 
Guide lightly. I know that you were trying to help. I just wish 
you'd let me return the effort. I want you to know that you can 
count on me when 'you' need help."

The younger man sat quietly, the silence stretching awkwardly 
between them, his Guide's rapid heartbeat pounding painfully 
in the Sentinel's ears. When Blair finally began to speak, his 
voice was whisper soft and even Jim had to lean in to hear the 
words.

"I thought at first it was just nerves and exhaustion...you 
know...with everything going on with the last case...I started 
getting these little 'pushes', especially after we'd find...find the 
victims...they weren't bad...just little emotional blips on the 
curve...nothing like what happened in Simon's office or on the 
roof...."

"Or when you met Anders...?" Jim's interjection was more a 
statement than a question, but Blair raised his head, meeting 
the Sentinel's eyes and nodded. 

"So this started during the Haight case?" Jim pressed gently 
when Blair seemed unwilling to continue.

"I'm...I'm not sure..." 

Blair dropped his eyes again, avoiding Jim's searching stare. 
He appeared genuinely uncertain, but the Sentinel picked up 
the skip of the heartbeat and knew differently.

"Tell me about what's been happening today. You said before 
that it had something to do with my safety. What's that mean 
exactly?"

"I don't know, Jim. That's what I don't understand. This thing 
that's happening...it's not words running around in my head 
you know, with instructions for interpretation. It's just 
feelings...sensations...." 

"So what's it feel like?" Jim asked, an edge of exasperation 
creeping into his voice.

"Like the world's just ended."

The stark flatness of his Guide's voice silenced the words that 
Jim was about to utter. He squeezed the younger man's knee 
gently, in silent support and entreaty.

"Everything just stops." Blair whispered, obviously caught up 
in the memory of the feelings and images that the attacks 
brought on. "There's no sound except my voice screaming your 
name, no movement, no light. Only darkness...and absolute 
despair...." his voice faltered and he took a ragged breath, 
unable to continue, apparently unwilling to say the rest of it 
out loud.

"Okay...just relax, Chief. Take a breath," Jim directed, eyeing 
his young partner closely and waiting until he'd regained some 
control before asking his next question.
 
"This feeling...does it have something to do with me as a cop or 
with me as a Sentinel?"

The younger man's head jerked up sharply and there was a 
puzzled expression on his face that Jim knew was real.

"I don't know...it's hard to separate you from who you are, 
especially in relation to me."

Jim's expression must have reflected his own confusion, 
because Blair shook his head and gave a sheepish grin. 

"That sounded pretty esoteric even for me," he muttered. 
"Look, my relationship with you gets a little confused at the 
edges because things overlap so much. You're my Sentinel, 
you're a detective and I'm you're Observer, so there's that whole 
partnership thing, then we're friends and we're roommates, and 
of course you have to throw in the "Blessed Protector" contract 
and my penchant for finding trouble just to muddle things up 
even more. I'm not altogether sure how to separate each aspect 
of you and me out to even answer your question." 

Jim grinned in spite of the seriousness of their discussion. The 
younger man's rambling explanation had hit on something that 
he'd been thinking about for a long time--that their lives had 
gotten so intricately entwined that it was sometimes difficult to 
see where one aspect of their association started and another 
stopped. He'd also considered parts of their relationship that 
Blair hadn't mentioned--the big brother/little brother thing; the 
father/son connection that arose every so often; and, of course, 
the fact that Blair was, by virtue of Incacha's granting of the 
title, his Shaman as well as his Guide. 

He thought about adding his two cents into the mix, but one 
look at the younger man told him that he'd pushed this about as 
far as he could for the moment. 

"When you put it that way, I can see the difficulty. I'll 
withdraw that question...for now." 

Jim lifted his head as the sound of voices carried across the 
clearing. With a glance he could see that Anders was starting 
to round everyone up for a final search of the area. He shifted 
to his feet and handed Blair the water bottle, eyeing his Guide 
in concern.

 "Anything else you want to tell me?" 

"I didn't even want to tell you this much," Blair muttered, 
raising his eyes to meet Jim's. "Look, I'm sure part of this is 
stress, man. That last case and now this...I just need some 
downtime, to get my nerves unfrazzled. But in case I'm wrong, 
how about you humor me about being careful around these 
guys. FBI or not, Anders has his own agenda here, trust me." 

"Easy enough, Chief," Jim agreed, recognizing the need to put 
their conversation on hold, his own reactions to the agent 
making him more than willing to accede to the younger man's 
request. "I'll be careful, you stay close. We've still got those 
kids to find."

**************************

Blair slid off the boulder, took a swig from the water bottle 
and handed it back to Jim.

"I don't know, man. Something's bugging me about this. 
Something's just not right..."

Blair's voice trailed off as he glanced around the clearing once 
more. When his gaze settled on the empty school bus, his eyes 
narrowed thoughtfully.

Jim looked up and saw the expression of puzzled 
concentration on the younger man's face. A flicker of 
movement beyond his partner caught his eye and he shifted his 
focus--on the edge of the clearing, Anders was watching them
intently. Under the pretense of placing the water bottle in his 
pack, he scanned the area, noting the location of each of the 
men from the search party.
 
The hair on the back of his neck prickled immediately, kicking 
his "Blessed Protector" reflex into full gear. He reached out 
and pulled Blair around to face him.

"Hey, man, what's the..."

"Quiet. Just follow my lead," Jim warned. He pretended to 
adjust Blair's headset while his eyes scouted the clearing. 
Blair saw his partner's jaw muscles clench and looked up 
questioningly.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"Either I'm starting to share your paranoia, or you're right and 
something 'is' wrong here. Anders has his men strung around 
the edge of the clearing, but they don't seem to be doing much 
searching. Their attention is focused inward. It's as if they're 
more interested in keeping tabs on us, than in finding those 
kids."
 
"Oh, man I knew it. Jim, if they suspect what you're doing, 
what you're capable of...I mean, these guys are the FBI, man, 
or worse. They get their hands on you and it's good-bye."

Jim stared down into Blair's anxious face. His Guide's genuine 
concern for his safety touched him. 

"I know, Chief. I don't understand what's going on here, but 
we've still got a job to do. The sooner we find those kids, the 
sooner we can leave Anders in the dust. Just be careful what 
you say over this." Jim tapped the headset and stepped away, 
grabbing his pack and settling it on his shoulders. "I'm going 
to take another look around the perimeter, see if I can pick up 
anything."

Blair gathered up his own gear. "I want to check out the bus 
once more. I've got the feeling that there's something there that 
we're missing."

Jim nodded and started walking a pattern of widening circles 
that would eventually take him to the edge of the clearing. 
While he checked the rocky ground for any sign of the missing 
children, he opened up his senses to observe Anders' men. The 
more he saw, the more uneasy he became. There was no 
question--these men did not act like any of the search and 
rescue workers or FBI agents that he'd come into contact with 
before. He felt the warning prickle tug at him again, and, 
although there were no overt signs of danger, he quickly 
shifted his attention to monitor his partner's progress. Blair 
was inside the bus now, and Jim could hear muttered 
comments through the headset as the younger man walked the 
aisle.

Jim smiled at the familiar pattern. Blair was fixed on 
something with his usual bull-dog determination and he was 
talking himself through it, voicing his rambling thoughts aloud 
as he sorted through the puzzle. It was the kind of behavior 
that drove Simon crazy, but Jim had learned not to question his
partner's methodology. He trusted Blair's instincts as much as 
he trusted his own. For all the grief that Jim gave the younger 
man, he respected the sharp, analytical mind of his Guide. As a 
scientist, Blair was trained to be a good observer. As an 
anthropologist, he added an appreciation and understanding of
the human side of the equation. Blair's unique way of looking 
at things had often uncovered a clue or direction that Jim 
would have overlooked.

Jim scrubbed at his face in exasperation. Why couldn't he pick 
up anything on the missing children, or whoever had 
engineered their disappearance? It seemed impossible that they 
could have left the bus without leaving some kind of trace. 
Was it his own weariness making his senses unreliable?

With the unsettling, warning sensation still nagging at him, 
Jim let his gaze drift across the clearing, trying to determine 
the source. When his eyes locked on Anders, he stiffened. The 
agent was staring intently at the bus, his face filled with an 
expression of hungry anticipation.

*What the hell is "that" all about?*

Jim's thoughts flashed back to the initial phone call that had 
started this trip. Anders, or whoever was running this case, had 
asked for he and Sandburg specifically. Not just the team that 
might have the most experience. Someone had wanted them 
here, and not knowing "why" was starting to make him very
nervous. That, and Anders' disturbing interest in his Guide.

'It's a good thing that Sandburg can't see Anders watching 
him, or he'd have another one of those attacks,' Jim mused 
grimly, his mind filling with the image of Blair's distressed 
face.

A second image was abruptly superimposed over that of his 
partner's--Blair's frightened blue eyes replaced by calm, 
ancient brown ones. Jim almost groaned aloud in shocked 
recognition. 

*Damn it, Incacha, is this your doing?*

His worried gaze shifted back to the bus immediately, his 
vision focusing on his young Guide. His fledgling Shaman. 
  
Were the episodes that Blair had been experiencing more than 
nerves and exhaustion? Or were they a result of some of 
Incacha's hastily bequeathed powers--a legacy that he and 
Blair had barely even discussed? As hard as it was to believe, 
if it was true, it would explain a great deal.

Cursing silently, Jim made himself move again, ostensibly 
continuing his search pattern, while his mind raced for 
answers. One of Incacha's gifts had been the ability to sense 
impending danger, even if he couldn't pinpoint the exact 
source. Whether Jim understood, or even truly bought into the 
mystical aspects of the Shaman's abilities, he'd seen the 
results of the older man's persuasions first hand during the 
time that he'd lived with the tribe. If Blair had indeed 
"inherited" those talents, then Jim was going to have to take
the foreshadowed danger as a serious threat.

*But what kind of threat?* Jim shook his head in disgust. He 
tried to recall everything that Blair had said earlier about the 
attacks, seeking a clue that would tell him what he was 
missing. The obvious terror and sorrow in his Guide's voice 
echoed in his mind. Even with everything that they'd been 
through together, Jim had never heard that depth of emotional 
loss in Blair's  voice.

*It was so intense...as if it had touched him--would touch
him--personally...it's...it's how I would feel if anything 
happened to him...*

Correction. Had felt. 

*I knew that kind of fear when Lash kidnapped him from the 
loft. I ached with that kind of despair when his heart stopped 
beating in the station parking garage...* 

Jim shivered and shook his head, pushing away the painful 
memories. If Jim would feel that depth of loss, then the reverse 
was probably also true. Blair's terror stemmed from a fear of 
something happening to Jim--to his Sentinel. That was why he 
had been so paranoid about Jim using his senses in front of 
Anders and his men; why he'd demanded that he "had" to be at 
the detective's side. His Guide's own protective instincts were 
operating at full force, and Jim knew from past experience that 
when his young partner was in that mindset, he would do 
anything to keep his Sentinel from harm-including putting 
himself in the line of fire.

If Anders were the source of the danger, that would explain 
why his Guide had reacted so strongly toward him from the 
start. And if all of this "did" somehow involve his being a 
Sentinel, then it would also explain Anders' interest in Blair.

Jim inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, berating himself 
for not paying better attention to his friend's intuitive 
reactions. How could he have forgotten what they'd discussed 
after Brackett? They'd learned then, that any danger to the 
Sentinel, was also an inherent threat to the Guide. *If we 
didn't need to find those kids, I'd commandeer one of those 
jeeps and haul Sandburg out of here right now...maybe I 
should do it anyway....* 

Jim's eyes automatically scanned the clearing, his mind already 
estimating their chances of escape, if it came down to what he 
was beginning to suspect. Blair's broken ramblings intruded 
on his own troubled deliberations and he switched on the 
transmitter for his headset.

"Sandburg!" There was a moment's silence before Blair's 
startled voice answered.

"Yeah?"

"You know that annoying habit that you have of letting your 
mouth run separately from your brain? You're doing it again."

"Oh....sorry, Jim."

"I think we're going to have to make a move soon," Jim  
continued, hoping that Blair would pick up on the meaning of 
his words. "Are you having any luck?"

"No...nothing yet...just give me a couple more minutes..."

Jim continued his sweep around the clearing, changing his 
angle slightly, so that his path would bring him closer to the 
bus. His guardian instincts were at full alert now and he didn't 
like being separated from the younger man. He wanted his 
Guide at his back, where he could protect him.

*********************************

Blair tapped his fingers on one of the bench seats in 
frustration, his gaze roving over the interior of the bus one 
more time. There was nothing unusual to catch his eye, no 
foreign smells; just the remnants of what had been left
behind--the kid's backpacks, a few toys, books, a jacket or 
two. Nothing that he and Jim hadn't gone over already. So 
what was nagging at him? What was he missing? He closed his 
eyes and took a deep breath, concentrating on how the air felt 
as it filled his lungs and then passed back out when he 
exhaled. Another breath and he felt himself relaxing. 

He let his thoughts drift as his energies centered and his head 
cleared. In his mind's eye he walked up the aisle again, seeing 
everything in it's place. A vision of his own cluttered room 
flashed in his head and he swallowed hard, his eyes snapping 
open in startled surprise.

*Missing. It should be here, but it's not. Why not? It doesn't 
make sense.* He scrambled through the aisle, searching the 
floor and the seats. When he reached the back of the bus his 
heart was thudding in his chest and he wasn't surprised to hear 
Jim's voice calling to him over the headset. 

"Sandburg!"

"Hey, Jim...I'm...I'm still looking..." Blair stammered, 
searching for a way to communicate his suspicions to his 
partner without the others picking up on it. 

"Things okay in there?" he heard the concern in the older 
man's voice and knew that Jim was 'listening', picking up on 
his rapid heartbeat. Okay, maybe he could use that...

"Yeah, I was just thinking, you know...we're due for some 
downtime after this, right? Maybe we should just kick back 
and relax. Get some beer, rent a couple of movies..."

"Sounds good, Chief," Jim replied. His partner's heart was still 
pounding, giving the lie to his easy-going banter. Something 
was up. "So, you have anything in mind? I'm not sure I'm in 
the mood for one of those foreign flicks with the subtitles."

"Well, actually I was thinking about one that we'd already 
seen. You remember that movie with Roy Scheider where he 
plays a cop and he's got this observer with him. You know, 
young guy--jeez, I can never remember that actor's name.
The one with the helicopter that could go into 'whisper' 
mode?"
 
Blair took a deep breath, covered the mouthpiece of his 
headset and started whispering. 

[Jim, just play along here, okay? I think I've got a handle on 
part of this, and if I'm right, we've got serious trouble, man.]

There was a moment of silence, and then Jim's voice came back 
over the headset. "Yeah, I know what you're talking about."

Blair immediately picked up on the conversation. "I really 
thought that the way they wrote the dialogue was pretty cool. It 
was like their conversation was operating on two different 
levels."

[I want you to try something, Jim. You're going to need to 
concentrate, so bend down and take a good look at the ground, 
like maybe you've found something.]

Blair took a quick look out the window and saw Jim take a few 
more steps before he dropped to one knee.

"I'm surprised you want to rent that one again. I seem to 
remember that you thought the observer got an awful lot of 
grief," Jim replied, making a show of picking through the 
rocks.

Blair allowed himself a small smile. "Yeah, you even got me 
my own JAFO hat, I remember. I'd still like to see it again. 
Besides I know you got off on the action stuff. All those 
explosions and gunfire." 

[Remember how you piggy-backed your sight and smell 
earlier? I want you to try it again. Look to where I am and see 
yourself on the bus. Then open up your sense of smell.]

"You sure you want to test my patience right now, Chief?"

[There's a test going on here, man. But it's not one of mine. 
Just try it. Run back through everything you picked up earlier 
and filter it out. See if there's anything that we haven't already 
identified.] 

"Hey, I'm always testing your patience, Ellison. That's what an 
observer does, right?" Blair took another peek at Jim and saw 
the older man casually look his way.

[That's right, Jim. Focus on me, see yourself here, next to me, 
then concentrate on what you can smell. There should be traces 
here that only the kids, Amanda and the driver would have left. 
That's what we missed before.]

With his heart pounding in his chest, Blair scanned the 
clearing quickly. He stiffened when he saw one of Anders' men 
watching Jim with just a little too much interest. He was about 
to say something when his partner's voice broke the silence.

"I don't know about you, Chief, but I'm not finding anything 
new."

"Shit, I was afraid you'd say that." Blair winced and slapped 
his hand over the transmitter and shook his head. 

[Stupid. Sorry, Jim. This double conversation is hard to keep 
track of.] 

"I'm not coming up with anything either. Sorry about the 
chatter, man. Maybe if I shut up for a few minutes I won't be 
such a distraction. I know you'll  come up with something." 

[Jim, the guy behind you is watching, get up and get moving 
again. Head toward the edge of the clearing as fast as you can 
without looking suspicious.]

"No problem, Chief. Sometimes a distraction's the best idea." 
Jim rose to his feet and began his search pattern again. But 
instead of heading away from the bus, he continued to angle 
toward it. "I think getting some movies is a good suggestion. 
But maybe something a little tamer. A little more introspective.
What was the one that Daryl liked? 'Stand by Me?'"

"No way man, that's about some kids going to see a dead body. 
I get enough of that just hanging around with you." 

[Damn it Jim, don't come over here. I don't know exactly what's 
going on, but one thing's for sure. There were NEVER any 
children on this bus. It's too clean. Kids make messes, 
especially kids on a field trip. There should be candy wrappers, 
half-chewed wads of grape bubble gum, the residual smell of
unwashed gym socks that would have lingered in the bottom of 
at least one of the backpacks.... And you're not picking up on 
Amanda's perfume, or the stale reek of the driver's cigarettes 
either. If they'd been on the bus for the trip up here, there 
should be some trace of those odors for you to find. But nada.
That's what we're missing--the smelly, everyday debris of 
living, breathing bodies!]

Blair looked out and saw Jim rounding the curve in one of his 
patterns. He was close to the edge of the clearing now, just 
coming up behind one of Anders' men. 

[Jim, listen to me...The reason you can't pick up on anything, is 
that there's NOTHING to find. This is like a dressed set. 
Anders or somebody else put this together. They murdered 
Heckt and Amanda--if that's even their real names-to make 
the whole thing more convincing. To test you. This is a trap, 
man. You've got to get out of here, now!]

"I don't know why you complain so much, Chief," Jim 
murmured, eyeing the man he was drawing even with. "The way 
you attract trouble, you're not any safer when I leave you 
behind."

[I'll be all right, man. I'm not sticking around here either. As 
soon as you make a break for it, I'm going out the back door 
and straight into the woods. Jim, please, get out of here! If I 
don't make it past them, I'll stand a lot better chance of 
surviving this if you're free.]

"Yeah, but I can always count on you getting me out of a jam, 
can't I?" 

Blair's words, both whispered and over the headset stopped 
Jim in his tracks. The whole kidnapping case, the murders--it 
had all been a sham. It "was" a trap. A clever, well orchestrated 
plan to snare an unsuspecting Sentinel and his Guide. And 
they'd walked into it blindly, with no backup. 'Why' they'd 
been set up took a back seat to getting the two of them out of 
there fast. He took a quick look around the clearing, estimating 
their options for escape once again. Blair was right. They'd 
have a better chance if they split up and divided the efforts of 
their pursuers. But he didn't like it. All of his Sentinel instincts 
cried out for him to protect his Guide, not leave him to his own 
resources, abundant as they might be. Especially since he  
suspected that Anders was as interested in getting his hands on 
Blair, as he was in capturing a Sentinel. But if they were both 
taken...

"You know it, partner," Jim said softly, his voice low with 
emotion. With a fast step to his left, he caught the man 
standing near him with a hard jab to the jaw, downing him 
instantly. Pulling his gun from behind his back, Jim swung 
around and aimed at the gas tank on one of the jeeps, firing as 
soon as it was in his sights. The explosion rocked the ground 
and sent Anders and his men lunging for cover. Jim's attention 
shifted to the bus and he saw the emergency door at the back 
fly open with Blair hanging off of it. He waited just long 
enough to see the younger man scramble into the  woods and 
then he too disappeared into the forest.

*******************

Blair kept his head down and ran, forcing his way through the 
densely packed trees, trying to put as much distance between 
himself and the clearing as he could before Anders sent his 
men in pursuit. He allowed himself a satisfied smirk at Jim's 
distraction. It had definitely caught them off guard. 'Hell, it
even caught me off guard. Trust Ellison to come up with 
something loud and earth shattering.'
 
He ducked under a low-hanging branch and tucked himself 
against the trunk of a large tree, listening intently. For a few 
seconds, he heard nothing except the pounding of his own 
heart and he took several deep breaths, working to fill
his aching lungs with the thin air. Blair snapped his head 
around at a sharp cracking sound from somewhere to his left 
and frantically scanned the woods, trying to locate the source. 
The noise repeated and he took off again, angling slightly to 
his right, but still headed away from the clearing. He wove in 
and out of the cover of the trees, more concerned about staying 
hidden than in trying to go in a specific direction, confident 
that if he could keep moving, he'd be all right. Jim was out 
there somewhere. The Sentinel was more than equipped to find 
him, wherever he ended up. All he needed to do was stay out
of the hunters' sights. 

As he ran, he forced his mind to function at more than just 
escape mode. He couldn't be stupid about this. He couldn't 
afford to make a mistake and end up getting caught. He did not 
want to be the leash that brought Jim to heel. He didn't think 
that Anders' men would shoot him down--not after all the 
trouble they'd gone through to set this up--but he wasn't going 
to take that chance. 

'Who are these guys?' They definitely weren't search and rescue 
and if they were FBI they were probably rogue agents. 'Great. 
And here I thought the CIA had a corner on that market.'

Whoever they were, what they wanted was perfectly clear. This 
whole scenario had been set up to test and reveal Jim's 
abilities. How had they found out about the Sentinel, anyway? 
He and Jim had tried to keep a low profile, but it was obvious 
that they'd succeeded in piquing someone's interest. Maybe it 
was as simple as having too good a record. They certainly had 
that, especially in the last two years. Maybe that was all it had 
taken.

'Or maybe it's that stupid paper you wrote. Jeez, it's like a best 
seller. Who would have known that it would be at the top of 
the Militant Reader's charts, instead of gathering the dust it 
deserves. We get out of this Jim, and I promise you, I'm going 
to hunt down every last copy and burn them. I should have 
seen this coming. Damn it, I should have listened to my gut 
instincts and never let either one of us get on that helicopter. 
Now we're out here in the middle of nowhere with a small army 
ready to pick us off and lock us away.'

Lock them away...or worse. Winded, Blair pulled to a stop and 
bent over, struggling to control not only his ragged breathing, 
but his overactive imagination. He didn't even want to think 
about what these guys would do to Jim in a lab, what kind of 
experiments they'd try to see what made him tick. The thought 
of Jim Ellison as a caged panther made him shudder. It would 
kill him. 

*So what are you going to do to make sure that doesn't 
happen?*

'Whatever I have to do.'

*Whatever?* 

"Whatever it takes. I'm the Sentinel's Guide. He's mine to 
protect." Blair whispered the words defiantly as he started 
moving again, determined to stay ahead of the hunters.

*****************************

The clearing looked like a war-zone when Bailey and his men 
jogged in. Black clouds of smoke boiled off the jeep, billowing 
upward into the darkening sky.  The overpowering smells of 
super-heated metal and melted plastic filled the air, while 
flames still roared over the vehicle's charred framework. A
crosswind swept low-lying waves of the smoke through the 
clearing and in the midst of it all stood Anders, barking orders 
at his scurrying men.

"It's about time you got here," the older man snarled as the 
tracker approached.

"We were supposed to be an hour away," Bailey answered with 
a shrug. "I figured you'd want to stick with the plan." The 
tracker glanced around the clearing and then turned his 
attention back to his superior. "I take it Ellison finally got wise 
to the game."

"Everything seemed to be going fine and then something 
spooked him," Anders grumbled. "He shot out the gas tank on 
the jeep and in the confusion, he and Sandburg slipped away."

"Together?"

"No. We at least got that break." The older man gestured 
toward the far side of the clearing where the man that Jim had 
decked was being helped to his feet. "Ellison overpowered 
Chambers, and took off from there. The kid was in the bus. He 
went out the back and straight into the forest."

Bailey took one more quick look around and nodded. "Okay, 
they've only got a few minute's head start. I'll have the men in 
gear and armed in five, and we'll head out after Ellison."

He started to turn away, but Anders grabbed his arm. "Send 
whoever's expendable out after Ellison. I want you to 
concentrate on finding Sandburg."

"You've got to be joking," Bailey objected. "That little hippie 
can barely tell his right from his left. There's no way he's going 
to make it out of this park. Chances are he's already going in 
circles."

"Then you won't have a problem finding him, will you?"

"It's a waste of time," Bailey growled in disgust.

"Are you questioning my orders, Lieutenant?" Anders' voice 
was soft and deadly.

"No, Sir...just trying to understand them. I thought Ellison was 
the one that you've been itching to get your hands on, yet 
you're telling me to let him walk and go after some punk kid."

"For a man who prides himself on his observation skills, you're 
surprisingly blind to the dynamics of what's been happening 
here today," Anders remarked. 

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that in his own way, the kid's as important, and as 
unique, as Ellison. Don't worry. Our good detective's not going 
anywhere. Not without his partner. You bring Sandburg back 
here and Ellison will follow. He doesn't have any choice."

Bailey eyed the older man skeptically.

"You'll get your chance at Ellison later," Anders promised. 
"Remember what I said about sending only men you're willing 
to lose after him. He was one of the best that Covert Ops had 
and he doesn't appear to have lost his edge. They won't have 
much luck catching him, but they can keep him busy while 
you're going after the kid. We'll get this mess cleaned up and 
set up a temporary camp. Bring Sandburg back...unharmed, 
Lieutenant. And do it quickly. I want to stay on schedule. If 
Ellison doesn't cooperate, we'll move the kid to our home base 
at first light. That'll cut his options even further."

Nodding grudgingly in agreement to Anders' orders, Bailey 
saluted sharply and spun on his heel, whistling a cadence to 
bring his men to order.

********************

On his hands and knees, Blair cautiously backed away from 
the edge of the deadly drop-off that he'd nearly tumbled into, 
rising on shaky legs only after he could no longer see down 
into the darkened ravine. He continued to retreat until he felt 
the rough, unyielding shape of a tree at his back. Leaning into
the reassuring support for a few moments, he closed his eyes 
and tried to push the last whirling vestiges of vertigo out of his 
head, concentrating on simply filling his lungs. Too shaken to 
name any individual gods or goddesses at that particular 
moment, he sent up a generic whisper of thanks to whomever 
or whatever had kept him from taking that headlong plunge.

Still eyeing the darker line of blackness that indicated the edge 
of the chasm, he pushed away from the tree, moving to his left. 
Cursing silently, he realized that he was going to have to either 
double back on his previous trail to find a way around the 
ravine, or make an attempt to climb down. Neither option was 
very attractive. Backtracking meant running the risk of meeting 
up with some of Anders' men, but the alternative was trying to 
make the risky descent in the rapidly fading light. 

He decided to keep moving along the rim of the drop-off, not 
quite following the same path that had brought him there, his 
gaze flickering uneasily from the surrounding forest to the 
ravine edge and back again. A sudden noise startled him and he 
halted, straining to identify the source of the sound, hoping 
desperately that it was Jim. Unshakable as his faith was in his 
Sentinel, he was starting to worry--it had been nearly an hour 
since they'd escaped from the clearing, and he still hadn't seen 
any sign of his partner.

Nor had he seen any real signs of pursuit. Initially he'd been 
grateful for that, but now Blair was starting to wonder if 
Anders had sent all of his hounds coursing after Jim. If he had, 
even the Sentinel, with all of his skills, would be hard pressed 
to escape them. 

The thought struck him suddenly that he was still standing like 
a dazed, frightened rabbit, and he shook himself in disgust. 
Pushing himself to move again, he ducked around a dense 
stand of brush.

And came face to face with Agent Dunn.

"Stay right where you are," the man warned, his rifle already 
targeting Blair's chest.

Slowly, Blair raised his hands, hoping that it appeared more 
like an entreaty than surrender.

"Hey...man, am I glad to see you," he babbled, assuming his 
most endearingly innocent expression. "I gotta tell you...that 
explosion scared the shit out of me. I just took off running. 
Guess I got kind of lost." 

He saw a look of confusion fill Dunn's face and he started to 
take a step forward, hoping to get closer to the man and 
somehow get control of the gun. The bone chilling touch of 
metal at the back of his neck and a familiar, deadly voice 
stopped him cold.

"Good thing we found you then." 

Blair remained motionless, barely breathing as Bailey shifted 
to stand beside him, the rifle barrel now digging into the right 
side of his neck.

"Where's Ellison?" the tracker asked, prodding him with the 
gun.

"Jim?" Blair strove to keep the bluff going as long as he could, 
his mind racing desperately for a way out of the mess he found 
himself in. "You mean he took off too? That's a surprise. He's 
usually such a..."

Blinding pain shot through Blair's right side as Bailey pivoted 
the rifle and rammed the hard wooden stock into his ribs. The 
force of the blow staggered him sideways and he dropped to 
the ground, gasping for breath. The tracker grabbed him by the 
hair and janked backward, keeping him on his knees and 
forcing his head up. Blair caught a glimpse of something shiny 
and froze as the razor-sharp blade of a knife touched his throat.

"Don't bother with the games, kid. I've wasted enough time 
looking for you and I'm out of patience," Bailey hissed. "I want 
Ellison."

Defiance reared it's head and Blair went with the angry 
sensation, letting it fill him and push the fear away. "So you 
got stuck with me, huh Bailey? Count  yourself lucky. Jim 
would eat you for lunch."

He felt a flash of relief when Bailey's grip on his hair released, 
and then he was reeling sideways, crashing to the hard ground, 
the left side of his face burning from the impact of the blow. 
The stab of agonizing pain that shot through his injured side 
made him struggle for breath again as Bailey's booted kick 
flipped him to his back. Before he could move, the tracker had 
dropped down next to him, one knee planted in his chest to 
hold him in place, while the knife pressed menacingly against 
his throat.

"Take it easy, Bailey. The Colonel wants him in one piece," 
Dunn called out.
 
Lost in the haze of his throbbing head and the pressure in his 
ribs, Blair found himself wondering idly who the "Colonel" 
was, and if this was a new player in this bizarre contest, or if it 
was someone he'd already met. Bailey's next words answered 
that question succinctly.

"Anders may think you're something special, but I don't, punk," 
the tracker snarled, pressing the blade harder against the skin 
under his chin. "As far as I'm concerned, you're just a piece of 
bait to attract Ellison. Now tell me where he is!"

Blair stared up into Bailey's eyes, saw the murderous glare and 
made a quick decision. He'd promised himself he wouldn't be 
used to make Jim surrender and that was exactly what this man 
intended. 

"Go to Hell," he whispered evenly.

Blair saw the rage wash over the bigger man's features and then 
the heel of Bailey' hand thrust against his chin, pushing his 
head backward. He felt the abrupt absence of the pressure of 
the knife blade, felt the sharp tip touch the side of his neck. 
With a burst of sudden clarity, he knew who had slit the 
throats of the teacher and the driver. A strange sense of calm 
settled over him and he started to close his eyes, his mind 
forming a silent apology to his Sentinel for dying and leaving 
him alone.

His eyes flashed open at a strangled cry from behind him and 
he looked up into Bailey's angry face. The tracker started to 
rise, and then he staggered, his expression changing quickly 
from anger to amazement. In stunned surprise, Blair watched as 
Bailey's hand went to his chest, wrapping around the hilt of
a knife that protruded from his ribs. Then he was toppling 
forward, blood spurting from the killing wound.

Blair grunted in pain as the man's dead weight crashed onto 
him. Pinned to the ground,  he could feel the handle of the 
knife digging into his own chest and wondered fleetingly if 
he'd somehow been stabbed himself. He tried to get his arms 
free so that he could maneuver the body off, but his dazed 
mind wasn't sending very clear signals to his aching body. 

He felt a growing wetness through his shirt and realized that it 
was Bailey's blood. He took a gasping breath and almost 
retched at the stench. Revulsion pushed him to try to get free 
once more and this time he had help. Strong hands slid beneath 
his shoulders, grasped him under the armpits and eased him 
backward. Blair barely stifled a moan of relief as the weight of 
the tracker's body slid aside. 

He didn't resist as he was pulled several feet away, and then 
urged to sit up. Nor did he argue when powerful arms wrapped 
around him. Instead, he instinctively leaned forward, seeking 
the warmth and safety of his Sentinel's presence.

*****************************************
At any other time, the thunderous pounding of his Guide's 
rapidly beating heart would have been cause for alarm. Now, it 
was a vital reassurance-proof that the younger man was still 
alive and that life was coursing through his veins, not pooling 
out on the hard, cold ground. The Sentinel grimaced at the
thought--he'd almost been too late.

Holding Blair in a fiercely protective embrace, Jim eyed the 
bodies of the two men he had killed. He felt the twinge of 
sadness that he always experienced whenever he took a life, 
but he felt no guilt. It had been a choice between his Guide's 
life and theirs, meaning that there had been no choice at all. He
would harbor no regrets about the actions he'd taken. He'd kill 
again if he had to, to keep the younger man safe.

Lifting his head slightly, Jim opened up his senses, scanning 
their immediate surroundings. A gentle breeze caressed the 
hairs on the back of his neck and he sampled it, filtering out 
the scents that belonged to the forest and finally finding those 
of the men that pursued them. Not content to rely only on his 
sense of smell and taste, he let his hearing range outward. In a  
few moments, he confirmed the hunters' locations. Loosening 
his grip, he gave the younger man's shoulders a gentle squeeze.

"We need to move. There's a spot where we'll be safer. It's not 
far...think you can make it?"

Blair lifted his head and gave a brief nod. Jim eased him 
upright, wincing himself as his Guide stifled a cry of pain. The 
Sentinel wrapped an arm around the younger man and began to 
steer him away when Blair stiffened.

"Wait..." Blair whispered, shifting them toward Bailey's body.

"Chief..."

"My pack...." the younger man murmured in explanation, 
straining to reach down for the bag.

With a deft grab, Jim caught the straps of the backpack and 
slung it over his own shoulder. That seemed to satisfy Blair 
and he leaned into Jim's grip, nodding again for the bigger man 
to lead the way. Attuned to the pursuit behind them, The 
Sentinel led his Guide deeper into the forest, seeking the place 
of refuge he'd found earlier.

************************************ 

Trusting Jim to keep them safe, Blair told his muddled 
thoughts to take a break--ordering them not to return until they 
made more sense--and focused on simply staying upright and 
keeping his feet moving. Surprisingly, after a few minutes of 
concentration, the little mind game seemed to work, although 
he felt strangely disconnected to his body--as if someone else 
was in control. He ignored the odd sensation because the 
results were worth it: breathing past the distracting pain in his 
side became easier and his pace adjusted to mirror Jim's, 
moving "with" the older man instead of dragging against him.
The smooth rhythm they'd established suddenly altered, and 
Blair found himself blinking in dazed confusion as Jim led him 
into a rock-sheltered thicket. He sank to the ground at the 
older man's gentle urging, shivering with cold when he leaned 
back into one of the boulders. Warmth wrapped around him 
immediately and he tugged Jim's jacket closer around his body, 
nodding a silent "thanks" to his partner. The Sentinel knelt 
beside him, the slightly cocked head and tense posture 
indicating that Jim was checking things out, making sure there
were no unpleasant surprises nearby. With a quick glance Blair 
saw that the refuge that the older man had found for them was 
easily defensible, even to his unpracticed eye. He allowed 
himself to relax a bit, feeling more confident now that he and 
his partner were together again.

Blair shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable 
position that wouldn't put as much strain on the sore muscles 
in his side. The movement brought Jim's attention back to him. 
Even in the gloom, Blair could see the concern in the 
Sentinel's eyes.

"I'm okay, man. Just cold and majorly tired," Blair said 
reassuringly.

A tentative smile broke across the older man's face and despite 
the circumstances, Blair felt an answering grin filling his own. 
"What? What's so funny?"

"I think you just set some kind of record, Chief. Those are the 
first words you've said in over 30 minutes."

Blair raised an eyebrow in surprise. If that much time had 
passed--he'd been further "out of it" than he'd realized. Given 
his normal tendency to let his mouth run non-stop--especially 
when he was nervous or frightened--it was no wonder that Jim 
was worried. "Brevity, man, remember?" he said with forced 
lightness.

Jim's reply was a soft grunt and a shake of his head as he 
pushed his Guide gently backward into the support of the 
rocks, his hands carefully probing the younger man's injuries. 
Blair endured the scrutiny without objection, recognizing that 
the Sentinel needed the tangible confirmation to ease his fears.
 
"Nothing's broken, Chief," the older man murmured softly, 
finally satisfied with his examination. He settled on the ground 
next to Blair, digging the water bottle and some foodstuffs out 
of his own pack and handing them to the younger man. 

"Good to hear," Blair responded, taking the proffered items. 
"Your timing was excellent, by the way. As usual. Thanks." 

Jim's head snapped up and he stared at Blair, his jaw clenched, 
his eyes dark with anger and guilt. "I should have been there 
earlier, but I had to deal with some of Anders men. I didn't 
want to take the chance of leading them to you. And then I was 
almost too late. Bailey would have....I'm sorry Blair...about all 
of this...that you're in danger because of me.  I should have 
seen through this whole thing before it got this far...."

"Cut yourself some slack on the guilt front, man," Blair 
admonished his partner. "We were set up by experts. But we 
figured it out, right? We're still ahead of the game, all we have 
to do is find a way to get home free." 

"Might be easier said than done, Chief. Like you said, we were 
set up by someone with a lot of expertise. Whether that was 
Anders or his superior, doesn't matter. The fact is, they're good. 
And they've got the advantage in equipment and personnel. 
We've got minimal firepower and neither one of us is in any 
shape to handle a fast, cross-country escape. Not in this  
terrain."

"We've been in tough spots before, Jim." Blair reminded him, 
hoping to dispel the older man's doubts and get him back on 
track. "They may have the numbers, but you're the Sentinel. 
They are way outclassed, man. They may think they 'know' 
what you can do, but I've 'seen' it first hand. So what's the 
plan?"

Jim looked out into the forest, falling silent for a few moments, 
and Blair could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. 
When the Sentinel looked back at him, he saw grim resolution 
in the older man's face.

"First thing is to stay ahead of them and try to find some help, 
or at least get a message out that we need assistance," Jim said 
softly. "We're pretty deep into the park and from what I 
remember about the area, the closest ranger station is about 
fifteen miles to the west. Not an easy trek and it's a move that 
Anders will undoubtedly anticipate. We're going to have to 
assume that he has most of the logical escape routes covered 
and that he's going to try to keep us contained in this area."

The Sentinel's gaze shifted to the forest once more, his 
expression growing even more grim.

"They've found the bodies," he whispered. "Anders will assume 
we're together now. He'll concentrate the search efforts,  
probably spreading his men in a skirmish line in an attempt to 
surround us. That 'could' work in our favor. If we can get past 
them, we might be able to make it back to their camp...maybe
steal a truck or at least get a signal out using their equipment."

"But won't Anders be expecting us to try that? If you were in 
his place wouldn't you?" The silent nod from his partner 
confirmed Blair's query.

"It's risky, but we don't have a whole lot of options, Chief."

"I don't know...getting closer to those guys doesn't seem 
healthy..." Blair's voice trailed off as his gaze settled on his 
backpack. His eyes flashed wide open, his mind grasping at a 
possible solution. 

Without thinking, he made a quick move to grab the pack. The 
burst of pain that radiated from his injured ribs reminded him 
of how badly he was hurting and he let out a strangled gasp. 
Jim's hand was on his arm immediately, trying to shift him 
back toward the rocks, but Blair shrugged off the restraint, 
gritting his teeth as he leaned forward and grasped the straps, 
pulling the bag into his lap.

"Sandburg...." 

Ignoring his partner's growling reprimand, Blair untied the 
pack and started digging through it. 

"What we need is something unexpected, right? So what if 
instead of trying to get out of the park, we head further in? 
Say, up into the mountains?" Blair asked, still rummaging 
through the bag.

"It's unexpected, but it's also not going to do us much good," 
Jim responded. "We'll be more isolated than we are now, and 
we won't be any closer to finding help. Not unless you plan on 
using smoke signals."

"It's an idea, but not quite what I had in mind," Blair 
murmured, pulling a small object out of his pack. "How about 
using this instead?"

"You brought your cell phone?" asked Jim incredulously.

"Hey, man, I never leave home without it. Not since I started 
working with you," Blair replied, grinning.
 
"What else did you pack in that magic bag, Chief?"

"Well I tried for your truck, but it didn't fit," Blair answered. 
"How about it? Think we can get through on that if we get 
enough altitude?"

"It's worth a shot."

"Great. You head out, I'll wait out the cavalry here."

"No way, Chief. We go together," Jim responded immediately.

"Jim, listen to me," Blair pleaded, desperate to convince the 
Sentinel that he was right. "You're the one they're after. I'm 
only going to slow you down and I won't risk that."

"I think you're missing something, partner. Anders wanted both 
of us here, today. Not just me. He's not just looking to trap a 
Sentinel. He wants a Guide as well."

Blair hoped that the darkness hid the terror that he knew was 
evident on his face. "He wanted me only to get to you, man. To 
use me to control you. And that's what will happen if he 
catches up to us."

"Whatever he wanted, he's not going to get it. That includes 
taking either one of us," Jim said firmly. "We're in this 
together, Chief. I'm not leaving you behind."

*******************************

The Sentinel kept them moving, herding his stumbling, 
exhausted Guide ahead of him as he watched for signs of 
pursuit. Darkness closed in with every step, cloaking them 
from their enemies, but also slowing their progress. With his 
vision adjusting automatically to the loss of light, and his 
concentration focused behind them, Jim was unaware of just 
how black their world had become until Blair tripped and fell, 
sprawling to the rocky ground. He was at the younger man's 
side instantly. Jim started to lift his partner to his feet when
he felt the tremors racking Blair's overtaxed body.

"Stay put," he murmured, pressing his hand on a slim, 
trembling shoulder. "Take a minute to catch your breath."

"No way, man...I'm...fine..." Blair's ragged gasps put the lie to 
his words, but he pushed against Jim's hold, struggling to get 
to his feet again.

"Sandburg, I may cover your butt when you run out of grocery 
money at the end of the month,  but I draw the line at carrying 
you up that mountain." The uncertainty in the eyes that stared 
up at him made Jim soften his tone and drop his teasing banter. 
"It's okay, Blair. I don't hear anything. We've got a lead on  
them."

"You sure?" There was an desperate edge to the whispered 
question.

"Rest, Chief," Jim answered, putting all the reassurance he 
could into his voice. "Close your eyes for a few minutes, if you 
can."

Jim heard a soft sigh that was a mixture of relief and pain as 
Blair slumped to the cold ground, wrapping his arms around 
his body in an attempt to ward off the chill. Shirking out of his 
jacket, the Sentinel draped it over the younger man's shivering 
form.

"Thanks...just a few minutes...that'll... be...good..." 

Blair's voice faded to nothing as sleep took him. The Sentinel 
sat in guardianship at his Guide's side, scanning the night for 
danger. He knew the hunters were out there, searching for them 
even now--extending his senses, he could hear soft, irregular 
sounds that were no natural part of the forest.
 
A sudden low growl jerked his attention back to his immediate  
surroundings. A patch of inky blackness came to life, flowing 
toward them, taking a familiar shape before the Sentinel's 
sharp eyes.

Another hunter stalked them by moonlight, yellow eyes 
glowing in the dark.

The panther settled just beyond Blair, his tail slashing back 
and forth in agitation. As Jim watched, the lithe animal rose to 
it's haunches and then continued to straighten, morphing into 
the ancient tribesman that Jim had first encountered in Peru.

Jim remained seated and silent as his Spirit Guide knelt beside 
his young friend, hands extended over the anthropologist's 
body, palms down. The old man's face creased into a scowl and 
he sat back on his heels, raising his head to fix Jim with an 
unreadable stare.

"Your young Guide is in danger, Sentinel."

"I know," Jim murmured, his jaw clenching as Anders' image 
filled his mind.

The Shaman shook his head almost imperceptibly. "The threat 
to the body is dire, the threat to the soul even graver."

Jim's eyes widened in alarm at his words. "I don't understand..."

"The seed of fear has taken root and flourished. It grows 
stronger now, out of control because he will not accept what he 
must."

"What is it that he needs to accept?" Jim asked softly, his gaze 
flickering to his young partner before meeting the old man's 
eyes again.

"Who he is." The Shaman shifted his gaze to Blair and frowned 
again. "The way was not prepared. Both spirits suffer."
 
"I don't understand...both spirits...Blair...and Incacha?"

The Spirit Guide's form shifted to the panther for just an 
instant, before taking the old man's shape again, responding 
with a slight inclination of his head. "The elder remains, the 
younger resists. The path grows more difficult."

"You're saying that part of Incacha is still here, within him?" 

Disbelief warred with a deeply-buried sense of understanding.  
Vague memories of stories Jim had heard as a child rippled 
through his mind--tales of spirits who stayed chained to this 
plane of existence, whether due to the violence of their deaths 
or because their business on earth was unfinished. Added to 
that was what he remembered of the Chopec death rituals. The 
Shaman was right. Incacha's death had caught them all by 
surprise. He hadn't had the time to prepare either himself or 
Blair for the transfer of his powers, whatever they were.

As if reading his thoughts, the tribesman murmured, "The rites 
were not performed. Your Guide was frightened and now he 
refuses to listen."

"Can you help him?"

In answer, the Shaman placed his hands over Blair's sleeping 
body again, lowering them until they hovered bare inches from 
the younger man's chest. He held them there for a few 
moments, murmuring in an ancient tongue the Sentinel could 
hear, but only dimly understood. Jim watched the intent, 
ancient face anxiously, nearly crying out in frustration when 
the tribesman removed his hands and shook his head. 

"I cannot. He made his choice in fear. Now he must find the 
courage to choose again."

Blind rage roared through Jim and he surged to his feet. "How 
dare you speak of choices? Since when did either of us really 
have a choice in any of this?"

"Do you regret your own decision, Sentinel?" 

The soft question abruptly drained away Jim's anger. He stared 
down at Blair's still form, and shook his head sadly.

"Not for myself....no. Not once I realized that the real choice 
wasn't whether to keep my senses or lose them, but to accept or 
deny myself. Before he died, Incacha told me the same thing, 'a 
Sentinel will always be a Sentinel, if he chooses to be.' But 
this...whatever this is, was Incacha's decision, not Blair's. Even 
being my Guide wasn't really his choice. It was mine. I knew
that I needed his help. I was desperate for it and afraid that he 
would leave."

"So you bound him to you."

"At first with his own eagerness, and later with those things 
that I knew he longed for. Trust, stability, friendship..." Jim 
shook his head angrily. "I trapped him as surely as Anders 
sought to trap us."

"Are you that strong, Sentinel?"

The words caught Jim off-guard and he looked down into the 
Shaman's face in confusion.

"Do you truly believe yourself powerful enough to hold a 
Guide against his will?" The older man rose from his crouch, 
transforming into the panther once more as it leaped across 
Blair's body, directly toward him. 

Jim took a startled step backward as the huge cat landed with 
only a whisper of sound at his feet. In the blink of an eye, the 
cat rose, morphing back into the ancient tribesman.

"Do not underestimate your Guide, young warrior. His spirit is 
stronger than you can imagine," the Shaman warned, his eyes 
fierce. "Sentinel and Guide are destined to be bound together. 
To protect the tribe. To complete each other in equal 
partnership. It can be no other way."

The old man's expression softened and the look he turned on 
Jim was full of compassion. "Your Guide's path is difficult, but 
not impossible. You know his strengths and his fears. Use 
what has held you together from the beginning..."

The Shaman broke off suddenly, growing so still and silent 
that he seemed to become invisible for a moment. Then his 
eyes shifted to Jim again, filled with a glowing intensity.

"You world is filled with many dangers, Sentinel. Do not fear 
for your Guide. What holds him will help him to survive the 
darkness, if he allows it. You will not be unprotected, nor will 
he." The Shaman's form began to soften, merging into the 
darkness even as Jim opened his mouth to object. 

"Trust to the Guardians who come with the morning..."

And he was gone, only the faintest echo of the panther's low, 
warning growl giving evidence that he had ever been there.

**************************

The silence was suddenly broken by the sounds of other 
hunters. They had drawn close--too close. Jim reached forward 
and shook Blair awake.

"Blair, listen to me, we don't have much time...do you trust 
me?"

"Jim, what...?" Confused, exhaustion-dulled eyes stared up at 
him, shifting slightly as the younger man sought to focus on 
Jim in the darkness.

"Do you trust me?" the Sentinel demanded.

"With my life, man..." came the ragged whisper of affirmation.

"Then trust Incacha. Let him help you."

With a groan of anguish, Blair tried to pull away, shaking his 
head, his blue eyes widening even further in desperate fear.

"Blair, stop it!" Jim hissed, grabbing the younger man's jacket, 
pinning him in place. Staring down into the grad student's 
terrified face, the Sentinel immediately softened his tone. 
"You've got to stop running from this...You've got to stop 
fighting him..."

"No! You're wrong. He's dead!"

The raw terror in his Guide's voice tore at Jim's soul. He let 
loose a string of silent invective against the men who were 
hunting them and at Anders in particular. He gulped down his 
own panic--he could hear them now, a dozen men, rushing in 
to corner them from at least three sides. There was no time for 
this conversation, yet they had to have it, if the panther's 
promise that Blair would survive the darkness was to come 
true. Just as Incacha's legacy had been forced onto him without 
warning, without choice, now Jim was going to  have to 
bludgeon his young Guide into acknowledging at least a 
portion of the truth.

"I don't understand it, Blair, but I know that it s true. Some part 
of Incacha's spirit remained with you when he died. You've 
known it, too, deep inside, since the day he named you my 
Shaman."

"How can you know that? How can you be so sure?" Blair's 
voice was a bare whisper, tinged with horror.

"I saw the panther."

Blair froze in his grasp. The stricken expression on his Guide's 
face made Jim shudder, but he forced himself to continue. 

"It shouldn't have happened...when Incacha gave my keeping 
over to you, his spirit should have gone free. But it all 
happened too fast and neither of you were ready. He knew he 
was dying and that all his knowledge and power would
die with him unless he could pass it to you. He was so 
desperate that he used force instead of compassion. And you 
were so afraid that you slammed up a shield to keep what you 
didn't understand at bay. But you didn't shut it out...you 
trapped yourself on one side and Incacha on the other...."

"Jim...stop...."

"You've kept that wall of fear in place, building it higher and 
higher. But Incacha's spirit is still there, trying to make you 
listen, to help you understand, to undo the damage that he's 
done."

"....please...I can't..." 

The agonized plea was almost unbearable, but the Sentinel 
ignored it, driven by need and his own desperation.

"You have to. Your life depends on it. When your head 
wouldn't listen, he somehow found a way to touch your heart, 
using your compassion and love of life to try to break down 
that shield and reach you. It bared your emotions. Left you 
vulnerable. That's what caused the attacks. Every death that 
you saw during Haight's murder spree put another crack in the 
dam that you'd built. Every drop of blood that was spilled 
brought your spirit and Incacha's closer together."

"And what happens then?" Blair's voice was hoarse, the words 
wrenched out of him, revealing the true cause of his fear. 
"What happens if...when I acknowledge him? Who do I 
become?"

For a moment, time seemed suspended. The tortured questions 
of his Guide were so like those that Jim had asked himself, 
when he'd made his choice to accept the return of his Sentinel 
abilities in Peru. 

*Accept the truth.*

"You become who you were meant to be."

________


to be continued