My Soul To Keep
part three...

~~~

Mikal Yagudin took another long draw of the whiskey, praying the fire of it would burn through the hollowness in his soul. Bad idea, his head screamed, but another shot drowned the annoyingly logical voice. He'd been told all his life of the dangers of mixing alcohol with Pycs, but today he didn't give a damn. Today, he wanted to get roaring, stinking, falling down drunk, and no damn little voice of reason was going to stop him.

"Out with the garbissh," he slurred drunkenly. "Goddamn, sonna-bishes! Put me through HELL!" he screamed, throwing his glass at the wall. It shattered on impact, and amber liquid streamed down the yellowed wallpaper to the floor. He watched it impassively, his anger temporarily quenched by the violent action. A week ago, he could've seen every drop of the liquid in infinite detail, right down the very molecules it was composed of. Now…he was lucky if he could read the words on the front of the whiskey bottle.

Speaking of the bottle…Mikal turned it up and took another swig. He wasn't quite drunk enough yet. He could still think, and that had to stop. It was no good, remembering what he had had, only to have it ruthlessly snatched away.

"Goddammit!" He shouted. His Guide, His! They had dangled the boy under his nose like a carrot, prodding him to perform for their entertainment with the promise of a prize to come, then…they had given the goddamn prize to Ellison, the son-of-a-bitch!

Mikal angrily downed another swallow. He had to put out the fire of his anger before it consumed him. He had to drown this emptiness which was swallowing him whole. He couldn't live like this. A week ago, the world had seemed bright, alive, full of promise. Today…there was nothing, and Mikal couldn't survive with nothing. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

~~~

"You don't have to do this, you know?"

"Do what?" Jim pretended not to understand. He continued pushing the wheelchair down the hall toward the physical therapy room -- the torture chamber, as Blair had dubbed it.

The hallway was empty, as always. Blair had questioned it at first, wondering how a hospital could operate with no one around, but before Jim could think of an answer, the kid had reasoned out one for himself. He concluded his "keepers," as he called the doctors from the labs, didn't want the general public aware of their "project", and therefore were keeping him isolated, even in the hospital. He looked to Jim for confirmation, but Jim had merely shrugged, not able to bring himself to directly lie to Blair. Blair had let it drop, satisfied by his conclusions and not seeming to need verification from Jim.

"Go with me to my torture session. You don't have to go."

"You don't want me around? I thought I was offering moral support."

Blair snorted. "Don't lie to me, Jim. You go to watch me suffer. You get off on it, man, and don't think I don't know."

"Well, yeah, there's that, too."

"Kiss my ass, Jim."

"Watch your language, kid. You want your mouth washed out with soap?"

"Oh, hey, Jim, way to make me feel like a kid, man! How old do you think I am?"

"At least twelve," Jim answered, evasively. He wished he had chosen his words more carefully. There were so many minefields to dodge it made his head swim. He hated the deceptions, and questioned the decision to keep the truth from Blair. He was going to have to be told. Too many people knew the truth for it to remain a secret for much longer, and Jim felt it was better revealed under controlled conditions than for it to slip out unexpectedly someday.

"Sheesh, Jim, I said 'ass', have a cow, man! Hell, even Naomi's not this bad. I know a lot worse stuff than that, in way more languages than you can count. I learned a few things before going to the labs."

Jim had to laugh at the visual image Blair's slang evoked. "'Have a cow?' I don't know where you get your expressions, kid."

Blair glanced over his shoulder, amazement coloring his expression. "You've never heard that expression before? What rock have you been living under? It was a popular saying when I was a kid. Came from some television cartoon, I think. I don't really remember. It was a long time ago."

"Television? Oh, you mean vid."

"Am I in England or something? You don't have an accent, no one around here does, but you keep using weird words, and you don't know common slang. England would explain it."

"Nah, you were right the first time, kid. I've been living under a rock. The rent's cheap, and the neighbors mind their own business for the most part. Not much of a view, though. I've been thinking of upgrading to a tree."

Blair laughed. It was a nice laugh, Jim decided. Deep and pure, from the heart. Laughing seemed to come easily for Blair. It seemed to be something very natural for him. It was hard for Jim to believe, considering what little he knew about the kid's life before he…well, before.

God knows, Blair wouldn't have much reason to laugh when the truth came out. And come out, it will. Jim mentally sighed as they rounded the corner to the therapy room. God help the kid when it did.

~~~

He couldn't continue like this and survive. Mikal wasn't even sure anymore he wished to survive. Surely death would be kinder than insanity. He was two days overdue for his injection of Pycnogycine. He knew it would draw attention if he didn't go in for the meds soon, but he had no intention of taking the drug again. Ever! He had been given a taste of what life could be like without the Pycs, and he wanted it back. So far, his senses had not reemerged, but they would. They had before, and they would again.

Mikal knew what he was risking, but it was a minor, temporary risk, and he would soon have a permanent solution. He had a plan. A good plan. True, it called for money, and he had little, but he wasn't worried about such a trivial point. Money could be gotten. He knew sources. Once he had plenty of money, it would be easy to find the type of assistance he required. Everyone had a price.

~~~

Jim helped Blair from the wheelchair, wincing in sympathy at the grunt of pain from the young man as he settled onto the side of his bed. Deep lines creased Blair's forehead and exhaustion radiated from him like a fever.

"You want to lay down?" Jim offered, reaching for the blankets on the bed to pull them down.

"Nah. I'm wasted, but I don't want to crash yet. The z's are taking over my life, man, and all this rest…it's so not me."

Jim shook his head in fond amusement. The slang was confusing. It was like the kid spoke another language sometimes.

Blair looked up at Jim, a hopeful expression in his eyes. "I was hoping we could talk."

"Sure," Jim said. "Let me get rid of this thing." He pushed the wheelchair into the hall and returned, pulling his customary chair over in front of Blair and settling into it. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't care," Blair said. "Anything you want…I just…I just don't…" His voice broke slightly, and he turned his head away.

"Blair…? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." His body language said otherwise.

"No, you're not." Jim moved to the side of the bed, sitting next to Blair. "Who would be in your place? You're exhausted, you're hurting… "

"I'm sorry," Blair said, lifting a shaking hand to rub his eyes.

"Don't be. You have a right to be a little emotional with all you're going through."

"I just don't…"

"You don't what, Chief?"

Blair turned to face Jim. The raw pain in the boy's eyes took Jim's breath away. At that moment, he would've done anything to take the pain away.

"I don't understand what's going on here. Why isn't anyone I know here? Where is Doctor Songer? He's been my doctor since I went to live at the labs. Why isn't he taking care of me? I didn't want to ask, because I'm afraid something might be going on, something I don't really want to know about, but I can't help it. I need to know, Jim."

A deep, intolerable anger began to build within Jim -- anger at the bastards who had stolen the boy's life nearly a century ago. Anger at Rouse and Arledge, and even Porch, for keeping the truth from him. Blair had a right to know. He deserved the truth, no matter how painful. Surely it couldn't be worse than whatever the kid was imagining?

The absurdity of that thought almost made Jim laugh. What was he thinking? Hell, yes, the truth could be worse. It was worse! Those bastards had frozen the kid for nearly a hundred years! Life, time, the world had gone on without him while he slept in ignorance, buried deep in the bowels of an abandoned building. It was a reality more horrible than anything the kid could possibly imagine.

Blair had to be told the truth eventually, and if Jim had been in his place, he would want to know sooner, rather than later.

"I don't want to be here," Blair said, in a quiet, child-like voice, which reminded Jim of the boy's true age. "Could you tell them that? Everyone here is nice, but I know it's only a matter of time before I have to go back to the labs. I don't want to, Jim. I don't want to go back. Could you get them to let me go home?"

Pain replaced anger with the sorrow laden words. "I'm sorry, Chief. I can't…"

Blair dropped his head, his hair swinging forward to hide his expression, and Jim detected the briny odor of tears. He put an arm around the thin shoulders, pulling Blair toward him.

Blair resisted at first, his body tensing to pull away. Jim hung on, knowing the kid needed the contact. Finally, Blair relaxed, burying his face in Jim's shoulder. Silent tears fell, and Jim held on through it, rubbing circles on Blair's back in an attempt to comfort him. This was not something Jim was accustomed to. He hadn't often played the role of comforter in his life, preferring to leave it to those more suited to the job, but this felt right. It was right. It was his job to take care of this boy…his Guide.

For long minutes, they sat without moving. The kid made no move to pull away, content to lean on Jim while he brought his breathing back under control. "Jim…"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe…could you…"

"What is it, Chief?"

"Could you get a message to my mom?" He pushed away from Jim far enough to look him in the eye. "I don't really know where she is, but I could tell you where to look--"He broke off, dejection and betrayal darkening his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone suddenly cold. "I shouldn't have asked." Blair turned his back to Jim.

Guiltily, Jim realized Blair must have misinterpreted something in his expression. "Blair, wait--" He placed a hand on Blair's shoulder, but the boy moved away from the touch.

"I'm tired. You should go."

"You don't understand," Jim attempted to explain. How could he? What could he say that Blair would understand?

"I understand perfectly, Jim," Blair said, without turning. "You're just like all the rest of them here. Every time I ask about my mom, they get this funny look on their faces, like you just did." Blair turned suddenly and the anger in his eyes surprised Jim. "I haven't seen my mom in over a year! Doctor Songer told me she moved to California, but I don't believe him. I think they stopped letting her visit for some reason. I think they just want me to think she stopped loving me. I don't believe their lies, and I won't believe yours either! So you can just go away and leave me alone! I do 'alone' really well, Jim. I've had a lot of practice!"

Something snapped inside of Jim, and without thinking he grabbed both of Blair's shoulders, forcing the young man to look at him. "I will never lie to you, Blair. Never! I would give your mother a message if I could…" An alarm went off in Jim's head, warning him to stop, but he was powerless to halt the next words out of his mouth.

"But I can't…because she's dead."

~~~ Porch's head snapped up at the statement, the report on his desk instantly forgotten. His eyes found the small monitor screen on the table across the room. He'd been trying to ignore the conversation, allowing Jim and Blair as much privacy as he could, but Ellison's words had jumped out at him like a firecracker. Good analogy, he figured, because something is about to explode.

The doctor moved quickly across the room, his attention focused solely on the scene being played out down the hall.

"Your mother is dead," Ellison repeated. "And has been for a very long time."

"Oh, God," Porch whispered. "He's really going to do it. He's going to tell him." His first instinct was to run down the hall, interrupt the conversation and get Ellison the hell out of the room, but something kept him rooted in place him, his eyes glued to the small screen.

Would it really be so bad if Ellison told Blair the truth? The boy had to be told sooner or later. He was intelligent, and he was beginning to figure out something was being kept from him. It was only a matter of time before he started putting clues together and reaching his own conclusions, and those conclusions were bound to be wrong. Who could imagine the truth in their wildest imaginations? Who would ever dream up something like this?

No, Porch decided, it was time…and while he was not entirely sure he would've chosen Ellison to be the one to tell Blair, it was started now, and Porch was going to let it play out. For better or worse. And if it went badly…

Porch sighed, pulling a chair in front of the monitor and sitting down. If it went badly, he would just have to help pick up the pieces.

~~~

"What are you talking about?" Blair questioned, confusion replacing anger in his expression. "My mother's not…she's not…she's in California. She's not…what you said! You're lying!"

Jim hesitated. The worst was yet to come. "Chief, I'm sorry. She is dead…Doctor Songer is dead…everyone you knew…they're all gone. I'm so, so sorry, Blair. They're all dead and long gone."

"Now I know you're lying!" Blair pulled violently away from Jim's hold. "Get out of here! Get out!"

"Blair, listen to me. They've been gone for a very, very long time. Decades…almost a century. You've been asleep. You slept through it all."

To his surprise, Blair laughed. The sound was frightening. "What the hell are you talking about? You're crazy -- or you've seen one too many Stephen King movie. Either way, you've lost it!"

"Chief--"

"Don't call me that!" Blair screamed at him. "It's a childish, absurd nickname! Nicknames are for friends, and we sure as hell aren't friends! Friends don't lie to one another!"

"Blair, look at me, look in my eyes. Look into my heart. You're a Guide, you're my Guide. I'm your Sentinel. Regardless of your insistence otherwise, we do have a connection. You can tell if I'm lying, I know you can. I'm telling you the truth. Those…bastards…the ones who kept you in the labs -- they froze you, in a…a cryogenic something or other…until they could find you a Sentinel. Only there was a war, and then the world changed, and somehow…somehow…you were forgotten. It's been almost a hundred years. God, Blair, believe me, I am so, so sorry. I wasn't supposed to tell you. They thought you weren't ready for the truth yet, but I know you are, Blair. You're stronger than they know, and I know you need the truth -- and God as my witness, Chief, this is the truth!"

Blair was staring at him, his face expressionless, his eyes blank. Jim reached for him, worried when there was no reaction.

"Blair?"

Worried, Jim gave him a small shake. Still no reaction.

"Chief, come on, you're worrying me."

Blair's mouth moved slightly. Even with his senses up and running properly, Jim had to strain to hear the words. "It's true…ohgodohgodohgod…it's true…" The kid's heartbeat took off at an unnatural pace.

Jim turned toward the surveillance camera hidden above the ceiling tiles in the corner. "Porch! I need some help, goddammit!"

"You're not lying…" Blair's voice had gained strength. "I can…I can…I can tell…you're not lying…ohgod…Jim…Jim, I can't…I can't…"

Blair's breath was coming much too fast. He was hyperventilating.

"Blair! Blair, listen to me. Calm down…it's all right…well, hell…no, it isn't all right." He had just promised Blair he'd never lie to him and here he was, almost doing just that. "It's not all right, but it will get better. I'm so sorry, kid. I'm so sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have told you, but I thought you had a right to know."

The door burst open, spilling forth Doctor Porch. The man moved rapidly to Blair's side.

"I told him," Jim confessed. He didn't care if the man approved or not, but he did need him to understand so he could help Blair.

"I know," Porch said. "We'll discuss it later." He turned his attention back to Blair. The young man was still struggling to catch his breath. "He's having a panic attack. It's scary to witness, and even scarier to experience, but it's not life threatening." He spoke to Blair. "Blair, listen to me, can you hear me?"

Blair lifted frightened eyes to meet the doctor's and nodded.

"Good, listen, you have to slow your breathing; you're hyperventilating. Take deep, full breaths. In through your nose, and then blow it out slowly. Can you do that?"

Blair nodded again, and closed his eyes. He made a visible attempt to follow the doctor's instructions. After a few seconds, his breathing slowed, and Jim could hear his heartbeat doing the same.

"Good, good…you're doing great," Porch coached. "Just concentrate on your breathing, slow, deep breaths…that's it."

"It's true." Blair opened his eyes, his gaze darting between Porch and Jim. "It's true?"

"Yes, Blair," Porch answered, sitting in the chair Jim had vacated earlier. "It's true. You've been in cryogenic hibernation for ninety-four years. You were found a few months ago, and after extensive work we were able to wake you. That's why you're so weak. Your muscles have gone unused for a long time. They need time to readjust, strengthen. But you're making a remarkable recovery, Blair. You're going to be just fine, given time."

Blair turned watery, confused eyes to meet Jim's. "My mom…Naomi…she's…she's dead? My mom is really dead? My mom?" A single tear spilled over, coursing unnoticed over his cheek. It was followed by others, and the dam broke.

Jim cursed himself for starting this, though the logical part of his brain argued it would have been the same, now or down the road. He wrapped his arms around his Guide, pulling him close. Tears flowed freely as Blair grabbed fists full of Jim's shirt and hung on for dear life. Ragged sobs broke free, filling the small room. Jim met Porch's gaze over Blair's head. He was surprised to see a deep sorrow in the doctor's eyes.

Porch dragged a thumb under one eye and stood. "I'll go get something to help him sleep." He left the room quietly.

Jim rocked the sobbing young man in his arms, trying to absorb the soul deep misery radiating from him. He wanted desperately to ease this pain, to take some of it and bear it himself.

In his head, Jim heard the mournful howl of the wolf, and his heart broke.

~~~

Blair rolled over to face the wall. The effort of the simple movement took his breath away, and he spent several long minutes regaining it. He tried to corral his thoughts, keep them away from what Jim had told him, but it was a pointless battle. How could he not think about it?

A hundred years!

He didn't want to believe it, but he knew in his heart it was true. It just didn't…it didn't seem possible. How could something like this happen? How could they do this to him without his knowledge?

Blair laughed aloud, the sound humorless and strangely wet. He wiped absently at the tear streaks on his cheeks. He was well aware of how it could have been done. All they had to do was sedate him. God knows, they were always giving him shots of one kind or another. How simple would it be to slip in a sedative, and as soon as he was asleep…God! This was real! It wasn't some cool scene out of a sci-fi movie. It had really happened…to him!

If it wasn't so horrible, it might be interesting, Blair realized with a start. The concept of freezing a human being…it was fascinating! The technology which must have gone into the procedure was mind boggling! Or would be, if it was happening to someone else. As it was, it was simply horrifying.

Blair sighed deeply, letting his eyes drift closed. He was so tired. Porch had given him something to help him sleep, but it didn't seem to be working. His mind wouldn't slow down from its roller coaster spin long enough for him to give in to his exhaustion.

Maybe if he just…just cleared his mind…like his mother had shown him when she was teaching him to meditate…

Mama…she's dead…

Blair clenched his eyes tighter, forcing out more tears. He would have thought them all used up by now, but apparently not. Did his mother know what had happened to him? Had anyone told her? Maybe she'd been told he was dead. He might as well have been, as far as she was concerned.

How had she died? Hopefully, old age, though it was hard to imaging Naomi as old. She was so young and beautiful, the last time he had seen her.

Hadn't Jim said something about a war? And something changing the world? Blair hadn't even thought to ask about it with everything else he was trying to process at the time. It must've been a hell of a war. How long after…what they did to him…was the war? Which countries had fought? Was is World War III? Would Naomi have been killed in it? How had the world changed?

"AAAHHHH!" Blair screamed into the silence of the darkened room. He threw his pillow as hard as he could. The tantrum helped. He felt a little better, but he really wished he hadn't done that. Now he'd have to sleep without a pillow. At least it had distracted him from his circuitous thoughts. Or it had, until he realized it, which, of course, led right back to the thoughts he was trying to avoid.

God! Would morning ever come?

Not much later, a dark figure slipped quietly into the room, retrieving the pillow and stealthily tucking it under the sleeping boy's head. The figure stood silent guard over the Guide for a long time, content to watch him sleep.

Close to dawn, the sentry rested a gentle hand on the boy's forehead, whispered, "Pleasant dreams, Chief," and slipped from the room.

~~~

Jim cautiously entered Blair's room, not sure what he'd find. The young man was sitting up in bed, an untouched breakfast tray perched on the table across him. He was absently pushing the eggs around with a fork.

"They probably taste better than they look," Jim offered lamely. Blair looked up tiredly. "Promise?"

"No, but you should try them anyhow."

Blair managed a small smile. "Not really hungry, I guess." He set the fork down and pushed the rolling table away from him.

Jim pushed the table back toward the young man. "Wrong answer, Chief. You have to eat if you want to get your strength back."

Blair lifted anger filled eyes to meet Jim's, but could only hold the emotion for a few seconds. Resignation replaced the anger, and he nodded. Wearily, he retrieved his fork.

Jim almost wished Blair had argued with him. Temper was easier to deal with than the despondency he was seeing now. Not that he could blame the kid.

Settling into his chair, Jim watched Blair make an attempt to eat. Every bite was met with a grimace, but the kid bravely kept at it until the plate was half empty. When he pushed it away this time, Jim didn't stop him.

"You want to talk about it?" Jim offered.

Blair didn't answer for a minute. He stared at the bare wall behind Jim's head. Finally, still not meeting Jim's gaze, he said, "What happened?"

"To you?"

Blair closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against his pillow. "Me, the world…my mom…"

Jim sighed. "I don't know what happened to your mom, Chief. I'm sorry."

Blair opened his eyes and looked at Jim. "Can you find out?"

"I…" Jim hesitated, not wanting to promised something he might not be able to deliver. "Probably not. There aren't a lot of those kinds of records. Most were destroyed in the war, and those which remain aren't easy to access."

Deep disappointment dulled the dark blue eyes. "s'okay, Jim."

"I'll give it a shot, anyway. There are organizations attempting to reconstruct some of the old archives. I can probably get in touch with them and see if they can help. Maybe we'll get lucky."

Blair nodded, but didn't look very hopeful. "Thanks, man. I don't suppose it really matters. I mean, I know she's dead, but I just…I'd like to know how, you know?"

"I understand," Jim said. "I'm sure I'd feel the same way."

Blair was quiet for several long moments. "What about the world? You said there was a war? What happened?" Jim sighed deeply. Where to begin? "It started over something stupid, I'm sure. Most wars do. Some little third-world country with nothing to lose, a grudge to bear, and weapons of mass destruction. It didn't take long for the whole world to get involved."

"World War III…" Blair nodded. "It's what a lot of my generation expected. Was it nuclear?"

"Partly, but only at the end. It was mostly biological."

"God…" Blair whispered. "How bad?"

Jim clenched his jaw. "Bad. Over half the world's population was killed in the first three years."

"Jeez, Jim! How could they let that happen? Why didn't someone stop them?"

"No one was prepared for such a large scale attack. The major super powers were busy selling peace and got caught with their pants down."

"Shit…" Blair laid his head back and closed his eyes.

"Yeah," Jim agreed with the sentiment. "It got out of hand. I don't think anyone expected things to go so far, and by the time anyone realized what was truly happening, it was almost too late."

Blair opened his eyes, rolling his head to the side to face Jim. There were tears in his eyes. "How can people be so stupid, Jim? My mom probably died in the war, then, huh?"

"Possibly…" Jim hedged.

"So, what happened? You said the world changed after the war?"

Jim nodded. "With most of the world's fresh water supplies contaminated, many more people died over the next few years. Some of those supplies are still undrinkable. Between the massive loss of life, and destruction of many of the world's population centers, technology took a huge step backward. We're only now really 'catching up'."

"What's the population count now?"

"I'm not sure exactly…maybe two billion, in the resettled world, another half billion or so in the unsettled zones."

Blair's forehead creased. "Unsettled zones?"

"We don't have country divisions, per se, not like you had before. Large parts of the world are nearly uninhabitable. There are some radioactive hot spots, still, and like I said, most of the fresh water supplies are contaminated."

"People live in these places? How do they survive?"

Jim shrugged. "They're suited to it. Criminals and refugees from civilization. The zones are forbidden, for the most part. Those who choose to live there are dangerous, wild to match their environment. Between the criminals and the altered--"

"Altered?"

Jim searched for another word, one Blair would understand. "Mutants."

"Mutants?! God, Jim, it sounds like something from a movie! All of this seems so surreal. I thought I'd open my eyes this morning and find out it was all a bad dream."

Jim scooted to the edge of the chair and reached over to the kid, letting his hand rest on Blair's arm. "It's not a dream, Chief. For your sake, I wish it was. This is real, but it's not so bad. You'll adjust. I'll help you."

Blair ran a hand over his eyes and gave a bitter laugh. "I don't suppose I have a lot of choice. Jesus, Jim…this is too much! I can't process this. I can't wrap my head around it."

"Would it help if I brought you some books? History books? I'm sure I've made a mess of explaining it all. Maybe it would be better for you to read it for yourself."

Blair nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks. It'll have to wait until my eyes are better, though. I'm still having some trouble focusing."

"Sure, no problem, Chief."

Blair sighed deeply. "I thought my real nightmares were bad enough. Hell, they're a walk in the park compared to reality."

"You're having nightmares?"

Blair glanced over at Jim, blushing a little. "Well…yeah…but I've always had nightmares of one sort or another. The ones since I…well, since I woke up from…you know…they're kind of…weird."

"You want to tell me about them?" Jim offered.

"Not really a lot to tell. They're in the jungle…" He glanced up at Jim, his eyes alight with curiosity. "I've had dreams about the jungle for…" He laughed. "I started to say for years. That's a relative term now, I guess. I've had dreams of the jungle ever since I went to live at the labs. Good dreams, mostly. But some…" He let out a noisy breath. "Some were real doozies, you know what I mean?" His expression became suddenly shy. "I've never really told anyone about them."

"I'm a pretty good listener," Jim assured him with a smile.

Blair nodded. "Yeah, Jim, I've noticed." He was quiet for a moment, staring at his hands as he gathered his thoughts. "I learned to look forward to the dreams. I liked the jungle. It was warm and, I felt…safe. I was always alone, but that was okay. Being alone can be a good thing. At first, there weren't even any animals there, which is weird, considering it was a jungle, but I figured it was my dream, and maybe my subconscious knew I needed to be alone, so I went with it."

Jim waited a long time, but Blair seemed lost in his thoughts. "You said 'at first'?" he prodded.

"Yeah…" Blair shook himself a bit, looking up. "This is gonna sound weird, but there was this one dream which lasted…well, I didn't really think much about time, you know, but it seemed like I was there forever…" His eyes narrowed in thought. "You think maybe I could have been dreaming while I was frozen? That doesn't really seem possible, based on the things Doctor Porch told me about cryogenics and what it does to a body, but I don't know, maybe…it makes sense in a way…"

"I don't know, Chief," Jim admitted. "Anything is possible, I guess." Including both of them 'dreaming' about a jungle, he added mentally. Jim was going to have to talk to Gilliam and get his perspective on this new development. Maybe he'd been too quick to dismiss the doctor's 'vision' theory.

"Anyway, I was there a long, long time, and I was alone for most of it. Until close to the end. It was getting dark and cold, and I was getting really tired. I knew the dream was close to ending. First, there was this big, black panther. I thought maybe I had found a new friend, but he didn't stay…"

Loneliness filled Blair's voice, and Jim's heart went out to him. He squeezed the arm beneath his hand, smiling when Blair lifted his eyes to meet Jim's. The boy returned the smile, though wanly, and took a deep breath.

"You know, it's really odd…"

"What is, Chief?" Jim asked when Blair paused.

"I just remembered…the first time I saw you, I thought I was still asleep, still dreaming…I looked at you and I thought I saw the panther. Weird. But I've been having some trouble with my eyes…or maybe it was just my conscious mind playing tricks on me…or a holdover from the dream…" He shook himself.

"Anyhow, later, there was a lion, but I don't really remember much about him, other than being afraid of him. He wanted something from me, I think, but I'm not sure what. Not long after, I woke up here."

"And the nightmares?" Jim knew there was more to Blair's story.

Blair shook his head. "I don't know…they're the weirdest of all…Lately, I've been dreaming about the jungle again, only it's different this time. It's not empty anymore. There are dozens, maybe hundreds of animals lurking in the bushes around me, but I can't really see them. I know they're there, though. I can hear them, feel them, and it's not a good feeling. They all want something from me, and it scares me. The lion is the loudest of them all. He roars almost constantly, crying as though he's in unbearable pain. He's hungry…" Blair's voice dropped to a whisper. "I get the feeling it's me he wants."

~~~

The remembered fear of the nightmare clamped firmly around Blair's heart. He was pulled back into reality by the tightening of a hand on his forearm. Before he could thank Jim, the door opened and Doctor Porch entered.

"Good morning, Blair…Jim." He moved to the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

The doctor's voice was soft, gentle, and sincerely concerned. Blair forced a smile he did not really feel. "Kind of like Rip Van Winkle."

Porch returned the smile, but his eyes held an understanding which warmed Blair's heart. Doctor Porch was so different from the doctors in the labs. Most of them, with the exception of Doctor Songer, had come and gone on a regular basis. None of them ever had time for Blair, other than in a clinical manner. They were so intent on their experiments and tests, Blair sometimes got the feeling they weren't even aware he was a real person.

"If you're feeling up to it, Blair, there are a couple of people who would like to meet you."

Anger and embarrassment washed over Blair, and he couldn't stop his response, "Someone wants to see the hundred year old freak? Hell, who am I to deny them? By all means, show 'em in!"

"Blair," Jim interjected, standing, "no one thinks you're a freak."

"Oh, yeah? I'm over a century old, Jim! Hell, even I think I'm a freak!"

"Blair, if you'd rather wait, just say the word." Porch bit back a chuckle. "Believe me, it would give me a great deal of pleasure to tell these gentlemen no."

Curiosity battled with Blair's embarrassment and won. "No, man. What's the point? I am a frea--" At Jim's glare, he changed his wording, "--a curiosity. I don't guess I'll be spending the rest of my life in isolation, so I may as well get used to it, huh? Send them in. I promise to play nice."

Porch studied Blair for a long, silent moment, then nodded. "Okay, but if you get tired, or uncomfortable, just let me know, and I'll get rid of them."

He left the room, returning a few minutes later, followed by two men. As they approached the bed, Blair took a moment to study them. One wore a military uniform, though Blair didn't recognize it. He wasn't much taller than average, and was slightly overweight, but had the look of a man who had once been very fit. He carried an air of authority, but his eyes were kind as they settled on Blair. He offered a smile, but Blair didn't feel like returning it.

The other man was smaller, not much more than Blair's own somewhat deficient height, and thin. However, Blair instantly recognized that this was a man of power. He was immaculately dressed in a dark suit, the lines of which were very similar to the fashion of Blair's time. He was probably in his mid to late fifties, Blair decided, judging from the graying hair and the lines around his eyes and mouth.

A kid, compared to me.

The absurdity of the thought almost made him laugh. The only thing which stopped him was the idea of having to explain his dark humor to these men.

The military man nodded briefly to Jim before turning his attention to Blair. "Hello, Mr. Sandburg. It's a pleasure to meet you at last. I'm General Arlen Rouse, RWF--I'm sorry, that's Resettled World Forces."

"One world government?" Blair surmised.

The general nodded. "For almost seventy five years now. Blair, I'd like to introduce President Arledge." He indicated the man who had entered with him.

"President?" Blair sat up straighter, intrigued. "Of what…?"

"Of the world, son," the President answered with an amused smile. "At least the resettled world."

"Wow…" Blair said, his mouth dropping open in amazement. "I must be big news to rate a visit from the President."

"More than you know, my boy." Arledge moved closer. "Doctor Porch has been keeping us updated on your progress. We're very pleased to hear how well you're doing."

"One world government, huh? There was talk of that before…well, in my time. Guess it took a war to bring it about." Blair looked away from the two men, uncomfortable with the way they were staring at him.

"There have been many significant changes in the past century," Arledge said. "I'm sure you must have numerous questions."

"Not really," Blair returned. "Jim has explained a lot of it."

"Yes, well…" Arledge glanced at Jim, not looking entirely pleased. "Still, if you do have any questions, I want you to know we'll do our best to answer them."

"There is one thing I'm curious about," Blair admitted, wondering if he would be told the truth. "What's the plan for me?"

"The plan?"

"Yeah. What's going to happen to me?" From the corner of his eye, Blair noticed Jim take a step closer to the bed and felt the Sentinel place a hand on his shoulder. Blair was grateful for the contact and the sense of calm it brought him.

"You'll stay here to continue your recovery for the immediate future--" Rouse began.

"And just where exactly is here?"

"The Sentinel Research Center, New Paris."

Sentinel Research Center, Blair repeated mentally. So they not only had Sentinels in this time, but spent resources researching them as well, unless the name was a misnomer. He would ask Jim about it later. Blair preferred to get his answers from someone he trusted, and he wasn't entirely sure the President was on that list. "New Paris?" he asked aloud.

"It's in the area you would know as central Canada."

"Oo-kay…" Has everything changed, Blair wondered. "What about after I've recovered?"

Rouse and Arledge exchanged a furtive glance, and an unease began to grow in the pit of Blair's stomach. He knew the feeling -- it was something the doctors at the lab had been particularly interested in testing -- and it always meant something bad. This was the first time he had experienced it since waking. The underlying emotions of the two men sizzled in the room. Blair glanced at Jim, but the Sentinel didn't seem to be feeling the same electrical charge of…wrongness.

"Can I leave?" Blair asked, testing the feeling. "If I wanted to, could I walk out of here? Am I free to go?"

The President's expression was all the answer he needed.

"I didn't think so. Here or the labs…seems the only thing that's really changed is the date."

Jim's hand tensed on Blair's shoulder. Absently, Blair reached up and grasped it, not even noticing how Jim immediately relaxed at the contact.

"Mr. Sandburg…Blair, I don't think you fully understand the situation," Rouse began. "You're a Guide--"

"No shit, Sherlock," Blair cut in sarcastically. Hell, as if he wasn't aware of that fact!

"You're the only Guide in the resettled world, a world with roughly a hundred known Sentinels…"

Realization waltzed up and slapped Blair in the face. "A hundred Sentinels? And no Guides?"

"I see you're beginning to grasp the problem," Arledge said.

Blair glanced up at Jim. "That's why you were taking that drug…what was it? Pick-something."

"Pycnogycine," Jim supplied.

"It suppresses the senses," Blair remembered. "My God, how do they survive?"

"Some don't," Rouse answered, "not with their sanity intact. Others manage to function at near normal capacity. Lieutenant Ellison is one of the lucky ones."

"If you could call it lucky." Bitterness dripped from Jim's words.

"As you can see," Arledge continued, ignoring Jim's comment, "you're a very valuable young man. If the world at large became aware we had a fully functional Guide…"

Blair closed his eyes, suddenly reminded of his dream and the animals in the bushes. Sentinels, he realized without knowing how. Hungry Sentinels, desperate for a Guide. And he was the only one. "Damn!" Blair looked up at Jim. "So you…what, won the lottery, flipped a coin, drew the short straw and got the prize? Which, I guess, would be me."

"Lieutenant Ellison was chosen from amongst dozens of potential candidates as the most compatible," Arledge explained.

Suddenly heartsick and angry, Blair shrugged off Jim's touch. "You make it sound like a damn dating service!"

"Chief…Blair--"

"Don't, Jim. I don't want to talk about it anymore right now." Blair dug his fingertips into his eyes, trying to drive away the familiar tingle of tears.

"That's enough, gentlemen," Porch said. "I warned you not to stress my patient."

Blair didn't open his eyes. He tuned them all out. He just wanted them to go away. All of them, even Jim. God! How could he have misjudged the man so badly. He had thought they were becoming friends. Hell, he knew Jim was a Sentinel, and, if he was honest with himself, had probably known on some level the man needed him -- as a Guide -- but Blair thought there had been some kind of…connection! Damn and double damn! Shit!

They had connected!

He almost sobbed with the realization. He hadn't even noticed, but now that he knew, he could feel it, a sliver-thin fiber of vibrating energy, unseen between them. An hour ago, the realization might not have been such a bad thing, but now, with all these new revelations, the thought made him heartsick.

What now? What could he do? Could the connection be broken? Ignored? He didn't know much about Sentinel/Guide connections. He hadn't exactly been in a position to research the concept at the labs, and no one there ever answered his questions.

"Blair?"

Opening his eyes, Blair was surprised to see the room was empty, with the exception of Doctor Porch.

"Are you all right, son?"

Blair sighed raggedly. "Not really. I just want it all to stop. It's too much." He was embarrassed to realize he was crying again.

"I should have followed my instincts and made them wait, I'm sorry." Porch sat on the side of the bed.

"They talk like I'm not really a person at all…like I'm just a…a…seeing eye dog or something. Don't they care how that makes me feel?"

"Probably not," Porch admitted ruefully. "Whatever their agenda is, I'm sure they can't see beyond it." He rested his hand on Blair's arm. "Blair, don't lump Jim in with those bastards."

Blair gave a wet bark of laughter. "Jim is a Sentinel looking for a Guide! What makes him any different from the rest of them?"

Porch let out a long breath. "I've watched you and Jim over the past couple of weeks, Blair. I've seen you grow into friends. Yes, he's a Sentinel, and I'm sure finding a Guide must seem like a Godsend to him, but I think it's secondary to your friendship. I know it is! And I think you do, too. There's something between the two of you, and I think if you search yourself, you'll recognize it. Think about it, Blair, but don't think too hard. Let yourself feel it, and trust your feelings. They won't betray you."

~~~

Porch found Ellison in his room sitting quietly on the edge of his bed. The Sentinel looked up at his arrival.

"How is he?"

"Hurt. Confused."

Jim nodded, dropping his head. "Who could blame him? If I were in his place, I doubt I'd be holding up as well as he is."

"It's a lot to come to grips with," Porch agreed. "He was already emotional, I should never have agreed to let those two in to see him."

Jim looked up, half a grin lifting one corner of his mouth. "Kind of hard to say no to the President though, huh?"

Porch chuckled. "Well, yeah, there is that. Still, I knew Blair wasn't ready. I should've made them wait a few days, let him get over the bomb we dropped on him yesterday first."

"The bomb I dropped, you mean." Ellison rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in what Porch had learned was a sign of frustration.

"Well, it might not have been the way I would've chosen to tell him, but Blair did have a right to the truth. I don't think it would have mattered who or how in the long run. It would've been just as devastating next week or next year. Besides, he's too smart for his own good. He'd have put it together eventually, and who knows what he would've come up with?"

"They aren't going to let us go, are they?" Jim asked suddenly. "How could they?" he continued, without waiting for an answer. "They can't risk this story getting out. They don't want the public knowing where Blair came from, and I can't say I blame them. The response would be…well, less than civilized, I'd bet. Besides, how safe would Blair be? Every Sentinel in the world would want him. Why didn't I think of all this before? Why did I let myself believe we could just go back Cascade and live a normal life?"

"You've had other things on your mind, Jim. Don't beat yourself up over this. Even if you had known, would you have done things differently? Would you have passed up the program?"

"No." There was no hesitation in Jim's answer. "But what now? Do you know what their plans for us are?"

Porch gave a humorous chuckle. "I've been a very vocal thorn in Arledge's side over this issue from the beginning. I somehow can't see him sharing his plans with me."

Jim sighed deeply. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, letting his hands hang limply between them. "Doesn't really matter, I suppose. I doubt Blair wants anything to do with me now."

Porch sat beside the dejected man. "Blair needs time, Jim. This has been too much for him too quickly. He just can't deal with it all right now. I do know this though, there is a connection between the two of you. I've seen too much to doubt its existence anymore. Blair needs to come to the realization for himself and get used to it. He just needs time."

"You think so?" There was a desperate hope in the eyes the Sentinel turned to Porch.

"I'm going to give you the same advice I just gave him, Jim. Search yourself. You'll know the answer when you find it."

~~~

"Just get what you want and get out," the young man hissed urgently. "You don't have a lot of time."

"I have all the time I need," Mikal answered impatiently. The corporal was highly strung, erratic, but he was easily bought, and that fact was all which really concerned Mikal at the moment. "Ellison is taken care of?"

"Yeah, I did just like you said, slipped the 'juice' in the coffee I took him. He'll be out until morning. You know, there's a good chance they'll be able to trace this back to me. I been thinking…I think maybe…" The young man swallowed nervously. "I think I deserve more…for the extra risks I've been taking. I didn't realize how hot things were going to get when I agreed to this. They trace the juice back to me, I may have to skip, you know? I'm gonna need enough to get me into New Asia unnoticed. It ain't cheap to get new ID and stuff."

Bastard! Mikal felt his anger grow with each word the man uttered. He would not be betrayed! How far was he willing to go to assure his plans weren't jeopardized? Nothing could be allowed to endanger his chance of rescuing his Guide from Ellison. No one would stand in his way!

"Don't worry," he assured, coming to a sudden decision. He would protect his Guide at all costs. "You're going to get everything you deserve…and more."

The man's eyes widened almost comically as Mikal slid the knife effortlessly between his ribs. A slight push dislodged the knife, and the soldier slid bonelessly to the ground.

Mikal watched dispassionately. The man wasn't dead, but he soon would be. He'd be well hidden in the dark stairwell where they'd met. His body wouldn't be found until at least morning, perhaps longer. Not that it mattered. Mikal would have what he wanted and be gone long before then.

He gave the corporal a nudge with the toe of his boot, sending him tumbling helplessly down the stairs. Firming his resolve, Mikal turned and headed in the opposite direction.

~~~

Something pulled Blair toward consciousness. He fought it, wanting to return to the peace of sleep, but the "something" wouldn't let him. Even before he was fully awake, he felt it. There was a presence in the room with him, and it felt…wrong…bad -- not evil so much as…hungry. Ravenous.

Cautiously, Blair opened his eyes to darkness. Something lurked in the night. Frightened, Blair sat up, searching. When he found it, his heart skipped a beat. Yellow, glowing eyes watched him from the shadows. The eyes moved forward, and for a brief moment, Blair saw the face of the lion from his dreams, hungrily surveying him as it approached.

As Blair watched, the lion shifted, twisting and elongating to morph into a man. A Sentinel, Blair knew. A hungry Sentinel in search of a Guide. The lion/man moved to his bedside.

"Hello, Guide," the creature murmured softly, reaching out to run a possessive hand down the side Blair's face.

Blair wanted to pull away, the touch making him ill, but he was paralyzed, helpless.

"My Guide…"

Blair scarcely had time to register the words before a sharp pain lanced through his head and darkness claimed him.

~~~

He felt the "wrongness" before he opened his eyes. Without conscious thought, he reached for the slender thread of connection, feeling for his Guide…and panicked when he couldn't easily find him.

"Blair!" Jim's eyes jerked open, and instantly closed again as the light nearly blinded him. He brought his hands up to press hard into his eyes.

"Jim…"

The word was like an air horn in his ear. He moved his hands to his ears in a vain attempt to block the sound. The noise increased, as did the light, seeping through his tightly clenched eyelids to sear into his brain. He groaned aloud, the sound reverberating through him with shards of agony. This was a sensory spike like he had never known.

"Blair," he whispered soundlessly, needing his Guide. He was answered by the soft, gentle caress of his Guide's voice. It penetrated the horrendous noise around him, gaining volume until it drowned out the other sounds. Jim's world became only that voice, as it led him through finding and resetting the dials. An eternity later, Jim lay still, breathing heavily, but able once more to open his senses without overloading.

Slowly, tentatively, he opened his eyes. The lights no longer blinded him. He turned his head and saw Doctor Gilliam watching him with more than a little concern.

"How are the senses, Jim?" The doctor's voice was scarcely a whisper.

Jim licked his lips, surprised at how dry they were. "Better." He looked around the room, searching for the source of the voice which had brought him back to sanity. His Guide wasn't in the room. Instantly, he remembered what had sent him into the sensory spike in the first place.

"Where is he?" Jim rolled his head back around to look up at Gilliam. "Where's Blair? What's happened to him?"

The doctor drew his eyebrows together. "How could you-- Wait! Lay still, Jim!"

Jim swayed with the effort to sit up. Closing his eyes against the vertigo, he was forced to heed the doctor's words. "What happened?"

"You were drugged. There are residual traces of a strong sedative in your system. Nothing dangerous, but strong enough to knock you out."

"How long?" Talking was proving difficult. Jim's throat and mouth felt like cotton and tasted even worse.

"We found you this morning. It's late afternoon now. We assume it happened sometime during the night."

"Where's Blair?"

There was a long pause. Jim opened his eyes, pinning the man with a glare he hoped was more intimidating than he felt.

"We don't know, Jim."

Jim pushed up from the bed, this time ignoring the dizziness that assaulted him. "I heard him. He was just here, talking me through the spike." Jim's eyes narrowed. "Only it wasn't him, was it? The voice was wrong. What the hell's going on, Gilliam?"

The doctor grabbed Jim's arms, helping him to gain his balance on the side of the bed. "It was a recording. You were in one of the worse spikes I've ever seen. It was the only way I could think of to reach you."

"You recorded us?" Jim knew they were monitored most of the time, but he had no idea they would stoop so low as to tape them while they were working on his senses.

"Get real, Ellison," Gilliam responded indignantly. "You know as well as I do how valuable this kind of information could be. Don't be so damned selfish! There are a hundred Sentinels out there who don't have a Guide. If there's the slightest chance we can help them, don't you think we're going to take it?"

Jim closed his eyes. He understood what the man was saying, but still felt as though he'd somehow been violated. However, there were more important things to worry about now. He opened his eyes. "What happened?"

"All we know is Blair was missing from his room this morning. We aren't sure what happened. The security cameras in his room and in adjacent areas have been tampered with."

"Yagudin." Even as Jim said the name, he knew it was true. Fear seized Jim's heart, for as surely as he knew the man had his Guide, he knew the other Sentinel was unstable.

"Yagudin? Why would you think it was him?"

"It was. The son-of-a-bitch has Blair!"

"Jim, wait!" Gilliam grabbed Jim's arm. In his weakened condition, it was enough to stop him. "They don't know yet what happened or who was behind it. Yes, Yagudin is a logical assumption, but--"

"I don't have to assume anything! He's got my Guide, and I've got to find him. The man's unstable! He's dangerous!"

"Well, I'll agree he's unstable. I don't know how dangerous--" The doctor broke off when Jim grabbed his shirt, pulling him close.

"Listen to me, Gilliam. Yagudin has my Guide. He's dangerous, and I can't take the chance he might hurt Blair. I'm going to find the son-of-a-bitch, with or without your help!"

~~~

The pain was throbbing and relentless, beginning at the back of his head and radiating around to take up residence right between his eyes. Blair gingerly rolled his head to the side and tried to ignore it. Finally, in defeat, he opened his eyes. Maybe he could get someone to bring him an aspirin or something.

Met by unfamiliar shadows around him, Blair blinked hard to clear his hazy vision. Realization was slow in coming, and with it came a start of surprise. He was no longer in the familiar room of the hospital--of the center, he corrected himself.

Blair studied his surroundings with guarded interest. The room was dim, but he could easily make out a dingy, peeling yellow wallpaper. There were few furnishings -- the bed he lay on, a decrepit dresser with a cracked mirror and a single wingback chair in the corner. There was one door in the room, with a single, heavily draped window beside it.

Some things haven't changed, Blair thought to himself. Unless he was totally off in his conclusions, he was in a cheap hotel room. And he was alone. Which brought him to his second question…how had he gotten here?

The last thing he remembered was…he scrunched his eyes in thought…what was the last thing he remembered? The President…an argument…with Jim? He thought he was angry at Jim for something…no, not angry…hurt…but he couldn't remember why. His head hurt too bad to concentrate for long. He gave up, hoping it would either come to him later, or someone would show up to explain it to him.

The pain in his head was throbbing in time to his heartbeat, making him slightly nauseous. He closed his eyes and concentrated on relaxing; not an easy thing to do, he decided, when you didn't know where you were or how you had gotten there. Had the doctors moved him? Or that president guy? The man seemed pretty pissed when Blair had questioned his freedom. Maybe they figured they'd better lock him up somewhere before he escaped.

Blair snorted softly. Yeah, right. He could scarcely walk unassisted, how was he going to escape? Besides, where would he go? He was a stranger in an unfamiliar time. From the way Jim had talked, the world was drastically different. But Blair knew he was a survivor and a fast learner. He probably could've found a way. Not that it really mattered now.

The door clicked, and Blair's eyes jerked open. Bright light flooded the room, temporarily blinding him. He barely had time to register a large figure entering before the door slammed shut and the light was gone.

"It's about damn time you woke up, Guide."

The voice was deep, loud. The sound of it sent waves of foreboding through Blair. Something tingled at the edges of Blair's perception, a warning…

The man moved closer, and Blair got his first good look at him. His breath caught in the back of his throat as memory came flooding back. The lion…hiding in the shadows…hungry…then pain in his head and everything went black. This man was the lion…

His dream…

Fear widened his eyes in sudden realization. "You're a Sentinel."

"Your Sentinel," the man corrected.

Blair had a feeling arguing with this man would be a bad idea. "Who are you?"

The man moved to the side of the bed and sat down. Blair tried to scoot further away, but his body wasn't in a listening mood. He could scarcely find the energy to move his head, much less his arms or legs.

"I told you, I'm your Sentinel. You can call me Sentinel."

Okay, looney tunes, Blair realized, his unease growing. Last thing he wanted to deal with was a crazy, hungry Sentinel. Especially when it's me he's hungry for!

"We'll be leaving just as soon as it gets dark," the man said. "I want you up and moving by then, understand?"

"Where are we going?"

"Away from here. That's all you need to know for now." The man stood. "Get up. I brought you something to eat." He crossed to the dresser and picked up a bag. A frown crossed his face when he saw Blair hadn't moved. "I told you to get up!"

"Okay, chill, man…I'm working on it." Blair forced his arms under him and pushed. It took several tries and more minutes, but finally he was sitting up on the side of the bed. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the effort. He hadn't been this weak since the early days of his recovery and it worried him.

The Sentinel stood watching impassively. Once Blair was seated, he shoved the bag into his hands.

"Thanks, man," Blair murmured sarcastically. He rolled up the top of the bag and peered inside. His stomach did a flip-flop as the smell assaulted him. "Eww…sheesh, what is this?"

"Meatloaf sandwich and bar-b-que fries."

Blair swallowed hard, rolling the top back down. "No thanks, man. I'll pass."

"You'll eat," the Sentinel countered, his tone brooking no argument. "I need you mobile, and you need your strength to get that way."

"Hey, man, you'll get no argument from me on that, but I can't eat this stuff. My stomach's queasy enough as it is. This'll make me barf for sure."

To his surprise the man simply sighed. "Look, Guide, it's the best I can do. My choices were limited. Eat what you can. I'll get something lighter next time."

Blair narrowed his eyes at the Sentinel. The man sounded completely sane at the moment, making Blair wonder if he had jumped to an erroneous conclusion earlier. Resigned, he pulled the sandwich from the bag, bypassing the fries, and took a tentative bite.

Apparently satisfied, the Sentinel leaned back against the dresser and watched Blair eat. He looked sane enough right now, but Blair had a bad feeling about the man. He assumed he had been kidnapped, and he had no trouble imagining why. Sentinel, Guide -- yeah, the 'whys' seemed pretty obvious. The 'hows' didn't really matter, Blair decided. Which left only the 'wherefores'. Somehow, he had a feeling the man wasn't about to outline his plans for Blair's benefit.

He was as weak as a kitten, so escape was out, at least for now. Besides, where would he go? He had no clue where he even was, much less where he could go. His eyes drifted around the room as he chewed. No phone was in sight -- did they even have phones in this time? Hell, they probably had communicators, or some other futuristic type gadget. Besides, who would he call? He didn't know a soul on the planet other than Jim and a handful of doctors at the center…well, and the President. Somehow Blair doubted he could get through to the President of the world…excuse me, "resettled" world.

At the thought of Jim, something in the back of Blair's mind flickered, startling him. The connection. He'd forgotten about his discovery of the tender thread of energy, new and untried, flowing between him and his true Sentinel. He probed the connection tentatively. Now that he had finally acknowledged its existence, it flared brightly, vibrating with a life of its own, almost as a separate thing, apart from him.

Before he could explore it further, hands grabbed his shoulders, shaking him violently. Blair bit his tongue hard, tasting blood as it filled his mouth.

"Stop it!" the Sentinel screamed at him. "Whatever you're doing, stop it!"

Shit! He felt it? This Sentinel could feel Blair's connection with Jim?

Blair barely had time to ponder the significance of the revelation. Nausea swamped him. Between the jarring of the shaking, the taste of the blood and his already queasy stomach, he lost his battle, barfing the few bites of meatloaf all over his captor.

~~~

Jim angrily paced his room, resisting the urge to scream his frustration and fury. It would not help, and would probably give him a headache. There had to be something more productive he could do. His Guide had been kidnapped, dammit! All Jim wanted was for everyone to just get the hell out of his way and let him find the son of a bitch who had taken Blair. That's all. Nothing too terribly hard. Just get the hell out of his way!

He made another circuit of his room, his mind racing, searching for a way out. Guards had met him in the hallway the instant he'd attempted to enter the elevators to the ground floor and had "escorted" him to his room and locked him in. Jim wanted to blame Doctor Gilliam, but had seen the shock and anger on the man's face. No, the blame lay squarely with Arledge and Rouse. The smug bastards had even stopped by to "explain" how all available resources were being utilized to locate Blair Sandburg, but, no, they couldn't risk letting Jim free to search for his Guide on his own.

Finally, Jim couldn't contain his frustration any longer. He screamed, long and loud, and yes, it did give him a headache, and no, it didn't help.

~~~

"You got a minute?"

Porch looked up to see Seth Gilliam stick his head around the corner of his office door. "Come on in, Seth. Please tell me you have good news." Daniel had had a full day of inactivity to consider the possible fate of Blair Sandburg.

"Not here," Gilliam shot his eyes purposely to the ceiling.

Daniel nodded, understanding. He didn't know for sure his office was monitored, but he wouldn't put it past Arledge. The doctor stood, moving around his desk, and followed Gilliam down the hall to a storage room. Only when the men were inside, did the other doctor speak.

"We've got problems, Daniel."

"Tell me about it. Blair Sandburg is missing, a soldier is dead, and they can't even find two clues to rub together! They still don't know who's behind this?"

"They don't…but Ellison does."

"Ellison? You said he was drugged, slept through the whole thing."

"He knows, nevertheless."

"Well, hell, Seth, don't keep me in suspense."

"Mikal Yagudin."

"What?"

"Think about it, Daniel. It makes sense. The man was obviously teetering on the edge. Who else would have as much motive? No one else knows about Sandburg. Plus, Yagudin would know Ellison would have to be taken out of the picture if he were to have any chance of success at all."

Daniel considered the scenario Seth was painting. He had to admit, it made a certain amount of sense. "He would've had to have help, someone on the inside. There's no way he could've gotten in here undetected otherwise."

"I've been thinking about that. The soldier they found this morning -- Corporal Sellers -- had access to the security cameras. Funny what a man will do for money."

"If we can figure this out, you know Arledge probably has, too."

"If he hasn't, he will soon, but Arledge won't find them. Not in time."

Daniel's stomach clenched at the truth of the statement. "You know about the contamination."

"Well, hell, Daniel, I'm a doctor, too, you know. How much time do you figure Sandburg has?" "Under the best of circumstances…a couple of weeks."

"Yagudin will head for the zones."

"Yeah." Daniel sighed heavily. "A week, tops."

"Damn! What are we going to do?"

"Like we have a lot of options!"

"We have one…"

Daniel raised an eyebrow. He could not see too many from where he stood.

"Ellison."

"Ellison?"

"Come on, Daniel…the connection! It could lead him to his Guide."

"You believe that?"

Gilliam took a deep breath. "Yeah, Daniel, I do."

Porch nodded. "I do, too." He looked up, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "Think we can convince Ellison?"

The other doctor laughed. "He's a mule-headed bastard, that's for sure." He sobered suddenly. "But he's feeling the pull already. They had to practically tie him down to keep him from busting through the walls to get out of here and track Yagudin down."

"So, what are we going to do about it?"

"We have to get Ellison out of here."

Daniel thought for a minute. "That's doable." He looked up, meeting his friend's eye. "You know we're finished if we do this."

"If we don't, the boy will die…and I don't think Ellison will be far behind him." He shrugged. "So what if we lose our jobs? So what if we might get arrested and spend the rest of our lives in a military prison? What's life without a risk or two?" he asked with a grin.

Daniel shook his head. "You are in serious need of a vacation, my friend, you know that?"

Gilliam laughed. "Well, this is pretty good timing, then, because we might just be getting a permanent vacation."

Daniel chuckled. "With incentive like that, what are we waiting for?"

~~~

Jim heard footsteps approaching despite the white noise generators. When the door to his room-turned-prison-cell slid silently open, he was tensed and ready. Only the sharp fragrance of a too familiar aftershave stayed his attack.

"You don't know how close you just came to getting your heads ripped off," he observed dryly, relishing the alarm on the two doctors' faces.

"You know, I actually believe him," Porch said, not entirely joking.

"You should." Jim eyed the door, judging his chances of getting through it.

"We're no happier with this situation than you are, Jim," Gilliam replied, his voice low. "That's why we're here. We need to talk."

Jim glanced toward the ceiling tile in the corner. "Not a lot of privacy."

"It's been taken care of," Porch assured, moving further into the room. "The vid is on a loop showing you sleeping. It won't fool more than the casual observer, so we don't have a lot of time."

"What's your game?" Jim asked, suspiciously. Of all the people at the center, these two he might once have considered friends. Now he didn't know who to trust.

"No games, Jim," Gilliam promised. "We have a…proposition for you."

Jim almost laughed. "Those are the very words which got me into this mess in the first place."

"Yes, well, this time we have a common goal, Ellison," Porch pointed out.

"And what would that be?"

"Finding Blair Sandburg."

~~~

The motion of the car made it difficult to control his nausea. Blair hunched miserably against the passenger-side door, his arms wrapped around his stomach in an effort to hold everything in. The Sentinel hadn't been too happy the first time Blair had barfed, and would undoubtedly not care too much for a repeat performance. Tentatively, Blair unwound one arm and reached up to probe the side of his face, wincing as his fingers found the tender spot where the man's fist had connected.

"How's your face, Guide?" The Sentinel sounded genuinely concerned.

Blair threw him a cautious glance. The flip flopping personalities were starting to piss him off. "Hurts like hell, thank you very much!" he retorted sarcastically.

To his surprise, the man laughed. "You want something to eat, Guide? Or a drink?"

Blair's stomach churned at the thought of food. Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "No, thanks." After a minute, he added, "My name is Blair, not Guide."

The air in the car became charged, crackling with an energy that caught Blair by surprise. He opened his eyes, glancing at the Sentinel warily. Blair had always been very perceptive to changing moods around him. Doctor Songer had been especially interested in the ability and had spent months testing it. But that perception had been nothing like what he felt coming off of the Sentinel now. This was more alive, more…volatile. Blair almost felt as though he could reach out and touch the emotion. It was a scary feeling.

"I don't give a damn who you are!" the man yelled angrily. "I only care what you are. As far as I'm concerned, your name is Guide!"

Blair swallowed hard, backing away. The Sentinel was off the deep end again. His moods were like a yo-yo. Blair realized he was going to have to be careful until he could figure out how to keep from setting the man off. The Sentinel grew quiet again after his outburst, and the charged air seemed to fizzle out. In an attempt to get his mind off of how miserable he felt, Blair turned his attention to the passing scenery. It was the first time he had seen daylight in…well, in ninety-four years, plus his year and a half in the labs. He wished he didn't feel so utterly miserable so he could actually appreciate the moment.

It was amazing how little seemed to have changed. Blair could almost have believed he was still in his own time. The car they were riding in was a little different, mostly just in the styling, though, it seemed. It appeared to operate much the same. Houses, the highway, everything looked much the same to the casual eye.

The only true difference he had found so far was the sky. It had been dark when they had set out, but the sun had made an appearance about an hour ago. It looked to be a cloudless day. The sky, he had noticed right away, was a deep, blue-green, almost a teal color. It was odd, and Blair couldn't think of any logical reasons for the difference. Radiation, maybe? It was a possibility, but if there was that much radiation in the atmosphere, surely it would be too dangerous to live in, right? So the people would have done something to avoid it. Live underground, maybe. Or built domed cities. Besides, Jim had said there were only a few hot spots of radiation in some of the unsettled zones. So there had to be another explanation. He'd have to ask Jim.

At the thought of Jim, Blair was reminded of the connection and this new awareness of it. He judiciously avoided thinking specifically about it, afraid it would flare to life again and his captor would know. What exactly had this Sentinel felt, Blair wondered, remembering the man's earlier reaction. Whatever it was, it had been enough to enrage him, and Blair didn't want to risk the consequences again -- at least not until he had a chance to figure out what was going on.

~~~

Jim was glaring at Porch, challenging the man to continue. Daniel thought swiftly. He had to present his case quickly, but in a way which would convince the Sentinel of his sincerity. He decided on the unvarnished truth. "Jim, Seth and I are convinced you are Blair's only chance. There's more to this…connection…than even Arledge is aware." He waited for either a denial or confirmation of his statement, but was granted neither. The Sentinel merely crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay, we'll assume, then, I'm correct."

"Jim," Gilliam picked up the story, "I've been observing you."

Porch didn't miss the way the Sentinel's eyes darted toward the corner where the camera was hidden.

"I can see you're stressed, agitated--"

"My Guide is missing!"

"It's more than that, Jim, and I know it. You knew Blair wasn't in the center before you were told, and you knew Yagudin had taken him."

Jim remained stubbornly silent.

Porch sighed, running his hands through his rapidly graying hair. At this rate, he would be totally white headed by the end of the day. "You're right, Seth, he is a mule-headed bastard."

Jim's veneer cracked, one corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. It gave Porch the impetus to try again. "Jim, Blair's in trouble." He had the Sentinel's attention now. "He hasn't had the mandatory vaccinations." Porch saw the exact moment the impact of his statement hit. Jim's eyes widened, and his arms dropped to his side.

"Damn!"

"Right! We don't have a lot of time. Between the routine immunizations and the natural defenses we've built up over the decades, the residual contamination isn't a problem for us, but for Blair, especially in his weakened condition, it could be deadly."

Ellison ran his hands over his face. "This just keeps getting better and better. Why wasn't Blair inoculated?"

Porch winced guiltily. "There's no danger of contamination here, because we're underground and the air is filtered, and there was no plan to take him topside in the immediate future. He would've been inoculated before then. In hindsight, I can see it was a mistake, but his immune system had been taxed enough, I didn't want to throw anything unnecessary into the mix."

"Do Arledge and Rouse know about this?"

"No. We haven't told anyone about the contamination. It won't make a difference in their search, and frankly, I'm tired of supplying them information they can twist around and use to further their own agenda, whatever it may be."

Jim pinned Porch with an icy glare. "I have to get out of here."

"That's why we're here, Jim. We have a plan."

Jim switched his glare to Gilliam, for which Daniel was grateful. "You know what you're risking by helping me escape. Why?"

"The circumstances warrant the risks."

Jim studied both men for several tense minutes. Finally, he nodded. "I have no choice but to trust you. You betray me, however, and you won't have to worry about Arledge."

Porch had no trouble believing the man meant every word of his threat.

"One thing…" Jim continued, his gaze hardening further. "Once I find Blair, we're not coming back here. We won't be used by Arledge. I won't let them exploit Blair for their own purposes."

"Where will you go?" Gilliam asked. "You can't hide from--" The doctor broke off, realization dawning. "The unsettled zones? Jim, you can't--"

"I'll do whatever I have to do to protect my Guide." The Sentinel's tone left no room for argument.

"Let's concentrate on finding Blair first," Porch suggested. "Once he's safe, we'll go from there."

~~~

It was too dark to see much in the room, but then again, there wasn't really much in the room to see. Blair eased to his side, careful not to disturb the sleeping Sentinel on the other side of the same bed.

They had driven for a few hours after the sun rose, then pulled into another cheap motel. Blair's captor had helped him into the lone king-sized bed, pulled the heavy curtains against the daylight, then laid down on top of the blankets on the other side of the mattress. Soon the man was snoring heavily.

Blair wasn't deceived, though. He had already tried to get out of the bed twice, both times, the Sentinel was instantly awake and watching him. Escape, for now, was out of the question.

So was sleep, apparently, but then he had slept most of the night while his captor drove. Blair sighed quietly in the darkness, hoping he wouldn't have to lay here for hours, staring at the blank wall he faced.

In an attempt to occupy his mind, Blair mulled over his predicament again. He didn't have many facts, but he was beginning to piece a few educated guesses into the puzzle. For one, he knew they were traveling south. The President had mentioned the Sentinel Research Center was in what Blair knew as central Canada. Not knowing exactly where he had been when he had awoke yesterday in the first motel, Blair could only guess at his current location, but he figured it to be somewhere around the central United States…or what he had known as the U.S.

What was their destination? Mexico? Further south? Maybe somewhere warm, Blair hoped, snuggling deeper into the blankets. It must be the dead of winter judging by the unbearable cold. The sun had been out and bright, but there was no warmth in the air at all. Never one to enjoy cold weather, Blair was miserable. Obviously, the Sentinel was not affected by the temperatures. He hadn't even turned the heater on in the car. The sweats his captor had provided for him to wear did little to keep him warm. He made a note to ask for a jacket -- if the man was in "sane mode" when he awoke.

His thoughts drifted back to his situation. Was anyone looking for him? Did being a Guide make him valuable enough to make a search worth the effort? Blair wanted to think so. At least to Jim, he hoped. Blair had thought there was a friendship between the two of them, but with the knowledge of Jim's "lottery win" Blair suspected said friendship might be one-sided. Surely, the Sentinel would pursue his Guide, if nothing else.

Bored, freezing, and both physically and emotionally miserable, Blair closed his eyes and attempted once more to sleep. He was just beginning to doze lightly when he felt the connection waver slightly, nudging him awake again. He glanced cautiously over his shoulder at the sleeping Sentinel, wondering how safe it would be to explore this phenomenon. He decided it was worth the risk.

Guardedly, gingerly, Blair focused on the flicker of movement in his mind. It was remarkable how similar to Jim's presence it felt. It was surprisingly warm…and eerily familiar. How long had this connection been in place? From the start? His first meeting with Jim? Did it mean he had no choice in the path of his life?

Blair almost laughed aloud at the thought. What choice had he ever had in the path of his life? From the moment he had first come to the attention of the doctors at the labs, choice had become an alien concept to him. He had been given no choice in going to live in the labs, no choice in seeing his mom, no choice in being frozen for a century…and now, apparently, no choice in whether or not to become Jim Ellison's Guide. Maybe it was destiny, or fate, or divine intervention. Maybe it had been decided long before he was born. Maybe no one had a choice about the path of his or her life. How sad to think everything was already mapped out, and no matter what he wanted for himself, it was secondary to the way it was "supposed" to be.

The saddest part was, Blair realized as he let his eyes drift closed again, given the choice, he would probably have picked Jim anyway.

~~~

"I'll get you to the surface," Porch said. "From there, you'll be on your own. We figure you'll have about twenty minutes head start before they discover you're missing. Make your way out of the building and to the rendezvous point as quickly as possible. Seth will be waiting for you, and I'll join you as soon as I can."

Jim nodded. He wasn't thrilled with the plan, but it was better than anything he could come up with on his own. Jim's biggest concern was having to trust so many unknowns, but he could think of no alternative. If Porch and his people could get him off this heavily guarded floor, he could handle the rest.

"Give me about ten minutes to take care of the guards. You'll hear a click once the locks disengage. That'll be your cue. Good luck, Jim." With that, the doctor slipped out the door.

When the locks disengaged, Jim was ready. In one motion he was out the door. A quick glance revealed no guards in sight. He made his way down the hall to the first intersection and pressed himself against the wall. Footsteps rapidly approached, and Jim tensed. The smell of a woman's perfume drifted around the corner to him. If the plan was going according to schedule, this would be Porch's assistant, Myra Damaron. Jim didn't allow himself to relax, however, until the petite, older woman rounded the corner.

"Follow me," she said, never breaking stride. "We don't have long." She led him down a series of corridors, stopping before a single elevator and pushing the call button. "There's a security camera on the elevator. Daniel should have it disabled by now. You'll only have a few minutes, at most, but it should be long enough. Go up to the third floor, and then make your way down the stairs from there. Once on the ground floor, you'll be on the back side of the building. The closest exit will be to your right and out the back. It opens onto Marshall Avenue. You know your way from there?" Jim nodded.

The elevator arrived with a loud ding. Jim glanced over his shoulder, but the hallway was still empty. He slid through the still opening doors and hit the button for the third floor.

"Lieutenant…"

Jim glanced at Ms. Damaron questioningly.

"Good luck," she offered with a smile, "and take good care of Blair."

Jim returned the smile. "You can count on it, ma'am. Thank you for your help."

The doors slid shut. Jim held his breath as the lift began to slowly ascend. He counted off the seconds in his head, wondering if it would be enough time. The car seemed to be crawling. An anxious eternity later, the elevator lurched to a stop. Jim squeezed through the doors as soon as they were far enough apart to allow him access. It had taken a long time -- too long? He would find out soon enough.

The hallway on the third floor was as deserted as the one he had just left. Jim glanced both ways, looking for the stairs. He spotted the sign to his left and hurried toward it. Once in the stairwell, he picked up his pace, tempted to survey the area with his hearing, but too afraid to risk it. Now would be the worst possible time for a zone.

When he reached the ground floor, Jim cautiously cracked the door, peering into the hallway. It was far busier than the floor he had just left, but everyone seemed to be calmly going about their business. Jim waited for a lull in the traffic, then pushed the door open. Remembering the woman's instructions, he turned to his right and forced his stride to a virtual crawl, not wanting to draw attention. No one seemed to give him a second thought, but Jim didn't allow himself to relax until he found the exit and pushed through the door to the fresh air.

Picking up his pace again, Jim stepped into the crowd of fast moving afternoon commuters.

~~~

Conclusion...