Epilogue



Knee wrapped in a protective brace, Blair leaned wearily into 
the support of the tree at his back. He stared at the pacing 
figure of his partner, and shook his head. Jim was still in full 
"Blessed Protector" mode with a  healthy dose of wary Sentinel 
thrown in for good measure. He'd nearly bitten the head off of 
the Ranger medic that had attended to Blair's injuries, ushering 
the man away as soon as he'd finished. He'd snapped in anger 
at the FBI's demands for an immediate debriefing, and Blair 
knew that it was only Simon and Joel's
intercession that had kept things from getting out of hand.  

"You're wearing me out, man," he muttered, Sentinel-soft. "Not 
to mention the damage you're inflicting on the poor ground."

The Sentinel paused, his gaze swinging his Guide for a 
moment before returning to monitor the activity in the camp. 

"Simon's got it under control, Jim," Blair said gently. "It's 
finished. Give it a rest."

With a sigh, Jim crouched down next to the younger man, 
eyeing him uncertainly.

"Anders is finished. He won't bother us again...."

Blair nodded. The Rangers had been puzzled when they'd 
dragged Anders' body from the ravine. What was left of it, that 
is. The corpse had been savagely mauled. Jim had heard one of 
the men speculating that a wild animal—possibly a large cat--
had gotten to the body before they had. The fact that the 
ferocious hunter had left no tracks was a curiousity to everyone 
except the Sentinel and his grateful Guide.

"But what about the rest?" Jim prodded. "What about...."

"Incacha? That's nearly finished, too." 

The quiet confidence in Blair's voice surprised Jim. He studied 
the younger man closely. Looking past the bruises and the 
strain of exhaustion, he found a familiar sparkle in his friend's 
eyes. And something more. 

The eyes that had always revealed the totality of the younger 
man's soul were different. The calm depths seemed to hold 
something older--almost ancient. But the change wasn't 
disturbing. If anything, the gaze that met his was even gentler 
than before.

"'Four paths shape the way of the Shaman,' Blair murmured 
softly. "Three have been traveled. One remains... the journey of 
a lifetime. The ritual is nearly complete."

The Sentinel reached out and grasped his Guide's shoulder, 
squeezing it gently, anxious eyes reflecting his concern. With a 
blazing smile, the younger man patted his hand in reassurance.

"You were right, Jim. All that was required was trust. I am who 
I was meant to be. Your Guide. And your Shaman."

The Sentinel nodded. Easing Blair to his feet, he guided the 
younger man to the waiting helicopter. As the chopper lifted 
and headed toward the still rising sun, The Sentinel watched 
his Guide slip off into sleep, then settled back himself, lulled 
by familiar, invisible purring at his feet. Seeing the detective 
relax, Simon leaned back in his seat, studying the two partners 
through steepled fingers.

The Watcher was no longer, but the Guardians remained 
vigilant.

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

finis