My Soul To Keep
part four...
~~~ Blair finished his business in the bathroom and moved to the sink, freezing when he caught sight of himself in the dirty mirror. His hand came up to trace over his features, confirming what his eyes were telling him. He was…older! Not a hundred years older, well not in appearance, anyway, but still, he no longer looked like he remembered, like he was supposed to look. There was a dusting of a two day old beard, his face was painfully thin, and there were fresh bruises below his left eye from where his captor had taken offense at being puked on, but beneath that, he could see changes -- nothing drastic, but more of a maturing of his features…and of course there was the longer hair…
Maybe he had been in a coma after they took him out of the cryogenic chamber. Could that explain it? But it would've had to have been for years, if his eyes were telling him the truth, and Porch had said they had found him only a few months ago, so that couldn't be right. Yet, the evidence was before him and undeniable.
His mind could come up with no logical explanation. What else had been kept from him?
The bathroom door opened, and his captor -- Mikal Yagudin, Blair had learned from the registration in the car's glove box when the man had stopped for gas -- stuck his head in the room.
"Let's go! Now!"
Blair swallowed a sigh of resignation and made his way slowly into the outer room. Mikal grabbed his arm when he stumbled and helped him through the outer door and into the nearby car. Blair wanted to shrug off the help, but was smart enough to admit he needed it. His strength was not returning. If anything, he was weaker now than he'd been in the hospital. The ever present nausea was worse, too.
The Sentinel got in on the driver's side and started the car, sparing a glance for Blair. "You don't look so good, Guide."
"Not feeling so good, either," Blair informed the man. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and hunched down in the seat miserably.
Mikal reached over and placed a hand on Blair's forehead. "You've got a fever," he said with a frown.
Blair pulled away from the touch. "Cut it out, man." Mikal seemed to be in one of his saner moods for the moment, but it was subject to change with no notice. However, Blair wasn't in the mood to deal with the man's personality shifts. He was cold, and he was sick on his stomach, and all he wanted to do was go home…wherever the hell home was anymore.
Unfortunately, the Sentinel had other plans. Without another word, Mikal pulled the car out of the motel parking lot and back onto the highway. Blair closed his eyes, not even attempting to follow the scenery. It was nearly dark anyhow, not much to see in the dim light.
"How did you know about me?" Blair asked, trying to initiate a conversation in an attempt to get his mind off his misery. He was surprised when Mikal actually answered him.
"We've met."
Blair glanced over at the man, surprised by the information. "We have? I don't remember."
Mikal nodded. "They took me to see you when you were sick. You were sleeping."
Terrific! Another lottery contender, Blair realized, his heart sinking impossibly further. Guess this one wasn't "compatible."
The Sentinel took his eyes from the road long enough to spare Blair a quick glance. "I knew the minute I entered the room you were meant to be mine. I felt it. I'm sure you do, too, now that you're awake. You feel it, don't you?"
Blair hesitated, knowing the truth would probably push Mikal back into his crazy persona, something he wasn't willing to risk. "I feel something…" he hedged.
Nodding again, Mikal said, "That's the connection. It's small now, but it'll grow."
Blair kept his disagreement to himself. He had felt the connection with Jim. He knew how it felt. What he felt from Mikal was not even in the same ballpark. It was foul, vile, and it did nothing but frighten Blair, truth be told.
"We met another time, too," Mikal said. "In a vision. That's when the connection truly began."
"A vision?" The man had Blair's full attention now.
"You were there. I'm sure you remember it."
Blair had no clue what the man was referring to, but he nodded anyway, hoping Mikal wouldn't push it. Time for a change of subject. Hopefully, one which wouldn't drive the Sentinel over the edge again. Blair tentative tested the air, but felt no tension radiating from Mikal. Maybe it was safe enough to try and get a few answers. He cleared his throat, bolstering his courage. "Where are we going, Sentinel?"
Mikal glanced at him, seemingly pleased to hear Blair call him by his chosen name. "Away. Far away, where they can't follow."
Where they can't follow… A ball of unease began spinning in Blair's stomach, adding to his nausea. He swallowed hard, trying to settle both. "The unsettled zones?" Blair hoped he was guessing wrong.
Mikal didn't confirm the guess, but neither did he deny it. He kept his eyes glued to the road ahead.
Blair hunched down in his seat as far as the seat belt would let him and closed his eyes. Jim had said the zones were dangerous, inhabited by criminals. Plus he had said something about hot spots of radiation. All in all, it didn't sound like a place Blair wanted to be.
Please, please, please, God, let Jim be looking for me!
~~~ A car slowed and pulled to the curb. Jim remained in the shadows of the alleyway, risking his senses to search the car. Satisfied at what he found, he moved quickly forward, opened the passenger's side door and slid in.
Gilliam gave him a relieved smile and pulled the car back into traffic. "We've got a problem," the doctor stated with a quick glance at Jim. "Daniel was…detained."
Jim's jaw clenched tightly. "I assume that means they know I'm gone."
"Oh, yeah. They definitely know. Daniel couldn't get out before the center was locked down. They are detaining everyone for questioning. It won't be long before they notice I'm not there."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Gilliam said. "I made this choice freely, and I don't regret it."
Jim nodded. "I need to make some calls."
Gilliam pointed to the console. "My phone is in there. I doubt they've had time to put a trace on it-- Hell, what am I saying? This is the government. They've probably had a trace on it from day one. Just wait, we'll stop once we're out of town and find a phone."
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a gas station on the edge of town. Jim headed for the phone, while the doctor fueled the car.
It took only a few moments for his call to be answered.
"Banks."
"Simon? It's Jim."
"Jim?! Thank God!" Jim heard both panic and relief in his friend's voice. "I've been trying for over a week to get in touch with you."
"What's wrong, Simon?"
"What's wrong?!" Jim could hear exasperation seeping through the line. "What's wrong is I got to work Friday morning to find your resignation on my desk, effective immediately, that's what in the hell is wrong! I've spent every day since then trying to track you down to find out what's going on. I've called in every marker I have, pulled every string I can. No one anywhere will talk to me." Quieter, more serious, Simon asked, "What's going on, Jim?"
Jim closed his eyes. Seemed Arledge had been quite busy. "I'm in trouble, Simon. Evidently more than I knew. I need your help."
There was no hesitation in the man's voice. "Tell me where to meet you, Jim."
~~~ Gilliam stood in the kitchen, attempting to give the two men in the next room a bit of privacy. Jim's friend, a tall, dark-skinned PSF captain from Cascade, had arrived about an hour previous, and the Sentinel was attempting to explain the situation to the man. Despite the distance, Gilliam could easily hear the conversation.
"My God, Jim…what you're saying…it's…"
"Fantastic?" Jim suggested.
"I was thinking farfetched," Simon Banks corrected, "but fantastic will do."
Jim nodded. "I know, believe me. I've been through all the same emotions you're going through right now. It's hard to believe, but it's true."
The captain shook his head, still not quite able to process the story. Gilliam sympathized. If he hadn't lived through most of it himself, he didn't know how readily he would have believed the tale.
"How safe are you here?" Banks asked.
Gilliam moved back into the living room to answer the question. "Very. This house belongs to my ex-wife's new brother-in-law. Took a lot of swallowed pride to get it, but it can't be easily traced to me. We'll be safe here for a few days."
"I don't want to be here that long," Jim said, standing and beginning to pace. "We don't have a lot of time…Blair doesn't have a lot of time. If what Porch said is true, he's probably already beginning to feel the effects of the Q Fever." Jim stopped his pacing and pinned Gilliam with a look. "What are we going to do if they don't let Porch go?"
"I may not be Blair's doctor, Jim, but I'll be able to handle the situation. Don't worry about it. You concentrate on finding him. I'll cover the rest."
Jim seemed to accept the reassurances. He resumed his pacing, talking as he moved. "I need your help, Simon. I'm convinced Yagudin will head for the zones. If he makes it, I'll have a hell of a time tracking him."
"You need to find him before he gets there," Banks concluded.
"Ideally," Jim agreed.
"Okay," the captain said, sitting forward on the couch and resting his elbows on his knees. "How mobile is Sandburg?"
"Not very," Jim said. "He can walk, but not without assistance."
"That will limit Yagudin's choices. My guess is that he'll ignore public transportation. The kid would draw too much attention."
"Which leaves private transportation," Gilliam put in. "Would he be stupid enough to use his own car?"
"It's hard to say," Jim answered. "Depends on how sane he is."
"Sane?" Simon asked. "The man's not sane?"
Jim shook his head. "There's no way of knowing, Simon." He stopped his pacing and dropped his head forward. "If it had been me, if I had lost…I don't think I could've held onto my sanity."
Gilliam watched the Sentinel quietly, both curious and surprised at the confession. It was the first time Jim had mentioned this fear.
"You don't know what it's like to live your life with your senses suppressed so low you can't even smell a flower, taste a beer…Hell, I didn't know what it was like, what I was missing until I had it given back to me. The time right after I came off of the Pycs was hell, but then…then I met Blair and everything changed. My senses fell into place. Even before he started working with me, before he taught me how to use them, I knew. I knew I could never go back. How can you accept blindness again after seeing a rainbow? I can't! My sanity wouldn't have survived."
Jim looked up, meeting first Simon's eyes, then Gilliam's. "I don't know what it was like for Yagudin, but if he tasted it, if he had that, even for an instant, I don't think his sanity could have survived either."
All three men were silent for a long time. Finally, Banks cleared his throat. "Okay, we'll assume, then, he's not entirely sane."
Gilliam marveled at how accepting Simon Banks was of Jim's statements, of this whole situation. Their friendship must be a strong one, he realized.
"Given that, where do we start?"
Jim turned to his captain, and Gilliam could see by the Sentinel's expression another bombshell was about to drop on his friend. "We start with the connection."
~~~ Blair had no idea where they were, or even how long they had been driving. He spent much of the traveling time sleeping. His energy levels were steadily dropping, despite the prolonged rest.
Blair was beginning to really worry there might be something seriously wrong with him. He was dizzy and weak, his vision was blurry, he couldn't keep anything in his stomach, and he suspected he was running a significant fever.
He lifted his head, squinting at the passing landscape. Though it was daylight, he could make out little. He did know it was getting warmer, and earlier he had noticed an increase in plant life as they moved further south. The trees were taller, fuller, and the undergrowth was thicker, growing right to the edge of the road in some places. Cities had grown further and further apart, but Blair had seen an increase in abandoned, dilapidated houses. Once -- was it yesterday? -- they had driven through an entire city which was empty. Buildings stood, empty and crumbling, as silent testimony to the new world in which he found himself. Which city had it been, he wondered. One he knew? Maybe one he had visited on his many travels with Naomi.
Based on Jim's descriptions, Blair concluded they were drawing closer to the unsettled zones. He had hoped Jim would've found him long before now. Maybe the Sentinel was not looking for him. Maybe no one was. The thought was depressing. Blair let his head fall back against the seat and closed his eyes.
Mikal had given up traveling solely at night, and now drove almost continuously, stopping only occasionally for food and gas when they could be found, or a few hours sleep.
Every once in a while, the connection sputtered in the back of Blair's mind. Each time it did, Mikal threw a glare his way. So far, Blair was successfully keeping it doused, but as he grew weaker, he questioned his ability to continue. Was it Jim? Was the Sentinel searching along the connection for him? He wanted to test it, needing proof someone cared about what happened to him, but was too afraid of Mikal's reaction to attempt it. The only times the man lost his temper was when the connection flared. The rest of the time, amazingly enough, he seemed concerned, almost worried about Blair.
The alternating personalities were still emotionally taxing, but at least now Blair had an idea what was setting Mikal off and could avoid it.
The connection hiccupped again, and Blair ruthlessly ignored it, knowing it would go away. He didn't bother to open his eyes. He knew Mikal had sensed it. He could tell by the sharpening of the atmosphere in the automobile. He also knew the Sentinel would settle down in a few minutes if the connection didn't come to life.
With a sigh of utter misery, Blair quit fighting the sleep which pulled at him, drifting into it with the hope of a warm dream to pass the time.
~~~ Mikal split his attention between the road and his Guide. After a few minutes, the boy's breath evened out in sleep. Mikal listened for a minute more, trying to force his hearing to focus in on the sleeping man's heartbeat. In frustration, he gave up. It was no use. He didn't understand why his senses hadn't yet returned. He had given up the Pycs, he had his Guide. What else was required? It had been enough before.
He glanced over once more at his Guide. The boy was sick. Maybe that had something to do with it. He had to find out what was wrong with him and get the boy well again. His senses would return then; Mikal was sure of it.
Sleep was the best he could offer the kid at the moment, which was why he'd been adding a sedative to his Guide's water. Hopefully, the extra rest would help. Maybe by the time they reached the zones, the kid would be feeling better.
The Sentinel momentarily allowed himself to consider the possibility something might be seriously wrong with his Guide. Maybe sleep alone wouldn't be enough. Maybe he needed to consider an alternative. Mikal reviewed his plans. He would soon have to leave the car behind. Roads hadn't been maintained beyond the edge of the zones and the car would no longer be practical. They would have to advance on foot. He doubted his Guide's ability to travel far that way, however.
Mikal frowned. He would have to get his Guide well first, which meant finding a doctor -- not an easy feat this close to the zones. It would cause a delay in Mikal's plans, but it couldn't be helped.
The Sentinel turned off the main highway, onto a smaller, less maintained road. He followed it for several miles, pulling off the road at the first empty house he passed which looked like it might be securable. The jungle had nearly overtaken the dwelling, growing right up to the walls, but with a little work, Mikal was able to clear a path from the car to the door. He searched the interior of the crumbling building. It was far from perfect, but it would do.
He returned to the car and roused his sleeping Guide. The boy blinked sleepily at him, and Mikal was struck again by the overwhelming urge to care for his Guide, protect him, defend him. He half-lead, half-carried the boy into the house, and helped settle him on a pallet of blankets he had prepared. The boy closed his eyes and was instantly asleep again.
Mikal took a minute to crush a couple of sleeping pills and mix them into his canteen of water. He awoke his Guide once more, urging him to drink. Satisfied the boy had gotten enough of the drugs to keep him sleeping for a long while, Mikal stood, double checked the security of the area, and headed back to his car.
It wasn't too far back to the last town they'd come through. If he was lucky, they would have a doctor.
~~~ It was the chills which disturbed Blair's dream. He hated to leave the warmth of his fantasies, but was drawn, nevertheless, toward wakefulness. He no longer felt the motion of the car, he realized. Maybe they had stopped for gas. No, he was laying down, so that meant he was out of the car. A motel, maybe? The surface beneath him was too hard to be a bed. Felt more like the floor. It wasn't worth opening his eyes to find out. Mikal had probably settled Blair on the floor before claiming the bed for himself.
He was miserable. His whole body ached, and he was cold -- freezing, in fact. He wanted to return to his dreams where he was warm and nothing hurt. He was drifting back to sleep, when he felt a warm puff of air hit his face. Curious, Blair forced his eyes open. A large dog -- no, a wolf, stood before him. The animal gently nuzzled Blair's face, whining softly in the back of its throat. The creature was beautiful. Blair wanted to reach up and pet him, but was afraid of disturbing this new dream.
The wolf nuzzled him again, then turned a slow circle, settling on the floor next to Blair. Pleased, Blair curled on his side, wrapping himself around the creature. It was soft and warm, and Blair felt safe, even if it was merely a dream. He burrowed his face into the silky fur, and let sleep claim him once more.
~~~ Frustration knotted Jim's stomach. No matter how he tried, he couldn't get the connection online. A few times, he had managed to find the slender thread of energy, felt it spark and crackle as it attempted to ignite, but each time it burnt out before flaming to life. Something was blocking him, and he had a sinking feeling he knew what it was.
Blair.
The Guide was rebuffing Jim's attempts to connect, turning him away in defeat. Why? Jim had to have the connection to find him. Did Blair not understand that? Or perhaps Blair did understand but didn't want to be found. Jim's heart sank with the thought. He knew Blair had been hurt and confused at their last meeting, and probably more than a little frightened by Arledge's plans for his future. What if Blair would rather be with Yagudin than return to the center? The kid had no way of knowing Jim wasn't going to take him back, and he might not have realized Yagudin was unstable. He might not know the danger the other Sentinel posed.
Jim wouldn't give up. The connection was his best bet for finding Blair, and he would keep at it. Eventually, the kid's barricade would crack, and he'd let Jim in.
In the meantime, Jim would have to rely on good, old-fashioned detective work.
~~~ The old doctor Mikal found took only a few minutes to confirm the Sentinel's worse fears. Lifting his eyes from his brief examination of the Guide, the doctor announced, "It's Q-fever. I don't understand. He should've had the vaccine when he was born."
Mikal's heart dropped. "Are you sure? You can't be mistaken?"
"No doubt about it. It's Q-fever."
"What can you do for him?"
The old man shook his head. "It's too advanced for my medicines. He needs to be in a hospital, preferably in one of the big cities up north. They have medicines and treatments which aren't available down here. Without treatment, the boy will die."
Rage filled Mikal's heart at the words. "No! I won't lose my Guide after all I've gone through to get him! I won't!" he grabbed the doctor roughly, pulled him closer and yelled into his face, "Do something! Give him something, goddammit! I won't lose him!"
Fear filled the old man's eyes. "There's nothing I can do. I have medicines which can make him more comfortable, but I can't cure him."
The idiot was useless, Mikal realized angrily. He didn't realize his intention until he saw the old man's eyes widen in pain and fear. Mikal looked down, surprised to see his knife embedded deeply in the doctor's stomach. Disgusted, he slung the now lifeless body away.
"Son-of-a-bitch! I wont' lose my Guide now, not after all we've been through to be together."
He turned toward his Guide, who was curled on his side, a small smile on his sleeping face. No, Mikal decided stubbornly, the boy would not die. They would resume their journey. The answer lay in the jungle. It was where they had first met, and it was where they would now live. Once they were in the jungle, everything would be all right.
Mikal picked up his Guide and headed for the car, kicking the old man's lifeless body as he passed. What did this old fool know? If he was a decent doctor, he would've been up north practicing real medicine. Mikal should never have bothered bringing him here in the first place. The old fool wasn't even worthy to touch his Guide.
~~~ "Why did you do it?"
Porch considered the question. He knew his reasons, but he doubted the man who asked would understand. "Ellison is the boy's best hope for survival."
Anger flashed in Arledge's eyes. "It wasn't your decision to make."
"Someone had to put Sandburg's best interest first, and it obviously wasn't going to be you."
The President's jaw clenched as he glared at the doctor. Porch returned the stare calmly, refusing to be intimidated.
"You have opposed me at every turn from day one," Arledge said. "I don't know why I allowed you to remain on this project."
"Because I was the best choice."
"You were unpredictable, and therefore a poor choice."
"Uncontrollable, you mean."
Arledge's glare hardened. "I think you've been looking for a way to get the Sentinel and Guide out of here for weeks."
"I'm sorry for what has happened. I'm especially sorry that Blair's life is apparently in danger. However, I am not sorry he and Ellison are out of your clutches. If there is a God, Ellison will find Blair, safe and well, and the two of them will find a way to stay lost from you, permanently."
Furious, Arledge stood and motioned to the nearby guard. To Porch, he said, "Was it worth losing everything? Was it worth your career? Your freedom?"
Porch took his time getting to his own feet, facing the irate man. He let a smile lift the corners of his mouth as he answered truthfully. "As a matter of fact, sir, it was."
~~~ Blair lay huddled miserably on his side, panting slightly in an attempt to control the nausea roiling through his guts. He knew they were in the jungle, Mikal had said as much, but he didn't remember how they'd gotten there. He suspected he had slept through much of it. They were no longer traveling by car, but rather by foot. At least, Mikal was. Blair was mostly traveling slung over the older man's shoulder. It was painful and humiliating, but there was no choice. Mikal insisted on staying on the move, and Blair was incapable much of the time of walking.
They had stopped for the night a short while ago. A fire raged nearby, but Blair absorbed none of its warmth. He curled into a tighter ball, shivering uncontrollably.
Blair pried open gummy eyelids, but was unable to see much more than a blur of light and dark. His vision had been getting progressively worse, leaving him practically blind. Whatever was wrong with him wasn't getting any better, and Blair had the nasty suspicion it would not. How ironic, he thought, to have survive a hundred years to die like this.
"Try this, Guide."
Blair blinked hard at the blur of movement before him. He felt Mikal's hands lift his head and shoulders from the hard ground, supporting him as something hard was pressed to his lips.
"Drink."
Blair's stomach rebelled, but he obediently sipped at the liquid, grimacing at the bitterness.
"More," the Sentinel commanded. "It'll make you feel better."
Blair tried, but a churning in his stomach warned him it was a bad idea. He turned his head and weakly expelled the few sips he had managed. The strong hands held him through the spasms, then helped him lay back on the ground.
"We'll try again later," Mikal promised. "Rest, Guide. We'll be moving out come morning." There was a long pause, then, "We're close. I can feel it."
It wasn't the first time the Sentinel had made the cryptic remark. Blair wanted to ask what they were close to, but couldn't muster the strength to form the question. It didn't much matter anyway, he figured. He would go when Mikal said to go, stop when told to stop. He was given no choice.
~~~ "What do you feel, Jim?"
Jim glanced over his shoulder at Gilliam.
"You're feeling something, am I right?"
Jim didn't bother to deny it. The man had not only dedicated his life to studying Sentinels, but was himself a borderline Sentinel. Jim returned his gaze to the thick underbrush beyond the doorway in which he stood silent guard. "We were lucky to get this far, but if I can't use the connection, it may all be for nothing. This could be a dead end."
"Lucky, hell," Gilliam snorted. "It was Banks' string pulling and your military contacts. I had no idea you were in the military, Jim. It's not in your records."
"It was another lifetime, and it's not something I can talk about. Rouse knows, and Arledge, I'm sure."
"Thank God for it, all the same."
Jim nodded. They wouldn't be here if not for those contacts. Arledge's people had managed to track Yagudin to the edge of the zones before losing him. Learning that, Jim, Simon and Gilliam had followed, finding a secure location. It was an abandoned farmhouse, too close to the edge of the zones to really be safe, but further away than Jim would have settled for had he been alone. Here, they would stay until they could figure out their next step.
Jim was acutely aware of the ticking clock. Were they already too late? Was that the reason he couldn't utilize the connection with Blair?
"Why do you think Blair is blocking the connection?" Gilliam asked, seemingly reading Jim's thoughts.
"I don't know…he's sick…could that have something to do with it?"
Gilliam shrugged. "Maybe, I can't say. So little is know about this connection. Hell, most experts don't even believe it exists. It's not like they could prove it one way or another without a Guide. Don't give up, Jim. Keep trying. You'll get through eventually, I'm sure of it." The doctor turned to go back inside. "Don't stand here all night, Jim. You need your rest, too. Tomorrow is going to be another long day."
Jim nodded, but made no move to follow the man. Jim wouldn't sleep until his Guide was safe. He had no intention of giving up. Once more, he felt for the tiny spark of connection still flickering in the back of his mind.
~~~ His Guide should have been better by now, but he wasn't. Mikal shifted the dead weight of the unconscious man and regained his balance. It wasn't easy traveling like this, but there was no choice. The boy was no longer able to walk on his own. The Guide was getting worse.
Exhausted, Mikal stopped, letting his Guide down gently. He had thought everything would be all right once they were in the jungle where they belonged. He had thought his senses would come back and the boy would get well, but neither had happened. Maybe they weren't in the right place. Mikal looked around. It was similar, but still not the same as his vision.
No, this wasn't the right place. He had to find the right place, or the Guide would be lost.
Mikal stood, lifting the boy to his shoulder once more. Once he found the right place, everything would be all right.
~~~ Blair was vaguely aware he was hanging upside down. The sensation made him ill. He couldn't decide whether to barf or go back to sleep. Something nudged gently at the back of Blair's mind, drawing his attention away from his misery.
Someone's knocking at my brain, Blair thought. He vaguely recalled he was supposed to ignore it, but couldn't remember why. His thoughts were muddled, and he was too miserable to try to recall right now. Maybe later.
The nudging became more insistent.
Come in…he answered feverishly.
~~~ Jim's eyes snapped open. He had it! Not only confirmation Blair was still alive, but a direction. He quickly scrambled to his feet. More importantly, Jim had a renewed sense of urgency. His Guide was sick. Very sick.
Jim moved silently through the darkened house to the one room which was still intact. He adjusted his vision to the dim lighting, spotting his friend in the nearest bedroll on the floor.
Bending over Simon Banks, Jim shook the man's shoulder and whispered, "Simon…wake up!"
The older man stirred, and after a moment, his eyes opened, blinking in the darkness. "Jim?"
"Simon, listen. I know where Blair is. I have to go. I'll be back in two days…three at the most. Tell Gilliam to be ready."
Simon sat up, reaching for his glasses on the floor beside him. "Wait…what? Where are you going?"
"I told you, I know where Blair is. I have to hurry. He's sick, and his time is running out. Make sure Gilliam has everything he needs and is ready. I'll -- we'll be back."
Before the man could wake enough to argue, Jim was on his feet. He was almost out the door when a call stopped him.
"Jim, wait…you'll need this!"
He turned to see Gilliam holding out a syringe.
"Give Blair this when you find him. It'll buy you some time."
Jim clenched his jaw, nodded once and took the syringe. "Thanks." He turned again for the door and was gone before there could be any more delays.
~~~
"You bastard!" Mikal screamed, letting Blair drop heavily to the ground. He turned to kick the prone man hard in the side.
Blair couldn't see the blows coming. He could only curl around the pain, wrapping his arms around his head to protect it from the man's rage.
"You goddamn bastard! You've led him to us!" Mikal continued to rave wildly as he landed blow after blow on Blair's unprotected back and sides.
After too many minutes, both the blows and the raving slowed, then stopped. Blair remained in his protective position, however, not knowing if it would start again. He searched his confused mind for a reason for the attack.
The connection…
Jim had been there…in his mind…for only the briefest of moments, but he had been there, Blair remembered.
Mikal had felt it, too. Blair remembered now why he'd been avoiding the connection.
But now he knew…Jim was searching for him, and the Sentinel -- his Sentinel -- was close. Despite his pain, Blair was elated. Jim was coming. He was coming for Blair…his Guide. His! Not this lunatic Sentinel who had claimed him and was slowly killing him.
Blair tentatively reached for the connection again…it flickered, then blazed brightly to life, filling him with a warmth which drowned out the pain of Mikal's abuse. Mikal would feel it, Blair reasoned, but he didn't care. He was dying anyhow, so what did it matter? At least he would die as Jim's Guide…by Blair's own choice.
The atmosphere around Blair blazed with a fury so strong it threatened Blair's hold on the connection, but he fought back, pushing the fury away and latching onto the thread of connection with all the energy he had left.
Sharp pain lanced through Blair. He scarcely paid it heed. There would be more to follow, he knew, as the Sentinel vented his frustration and rage on the man he would have claimed as Guide. Ignoring it, Blair dove headlong into the blaze of connection.
~~~ Mikal's fury left him panting hard. He stood over the now unconscious Guide. The pain was gone now, but it had blazed brightly only moments before, blinding Mikal to all but an unquenchable rage.
He backed away from the bloody body at his feet, dropping to the ground and pulling his knees up to rest his head on. It was the bastard's own fault, he reasoned. He had warned the kid, had given him fair warning, over and over.
Ellison was on to them now. The son of a bitch would find them.
Unless…
Mikal lifted his head, letting his gaze fall on the injured and bleeding Guide. Ellison would find them because he was in the boy's head. Mikal had to remove the other Sentinel from the Guide's mind. Purge whatever influence the bastard had established.
Then the Guide would have no choice but to connect with Mikal.
~~~ Jim had never felt so alive…or so panicked. His senses were at their zenith, singing in perfect harmony. The closer he got to Blair, the stronger they became. Until a few moments ago, the connection had hummed along with his senses, strong and vibrant between Sentinel and Guide. Until a few moments ago.
The connection had wavered, shuddering briefly before fading completely out. No matter how he tried, Jim couldn't re-light it. He abandoned his efforts. It no longer mattered. He knew where to find his Guide without the connection.
Ahead, he heard a wolf howl and pressed on with a renewed sense of urgency.
~~~ Simon watched the doctor check and recheck his supplies in the makeshift hospital room he had set up.
"We should've gone with Jim."
Gilliam looked up from his work. "We would've slowed him down. Besides, he doesn't need our help."
"If this other Sentinel is as crazy as you and Jim say--"
"He is," Gilliam stated adamantly.
"Then Jim sure as hell will need our help."
The doctor shook his head. "This has to be between the two of them. Jim is more than a match for Mikal, and he has his wits about him, which is an added advantage. You have to understand, Banks, this is no longer Jim Ellison fighting to rescue Blair Sandburg. This is a Sentinel fighting for his Guide. Totally different dynamics."
Simon sighed. He gave up. It was out of their hands anyhow. They'd never find Jim on their own. Their only option was to wait for the man to return, and pray for his success.
~~~ Blair couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if he was awake or not. Awake, he suspected. Surely unconsciousness didn't hurt like this.
A rough hand clamped on the back of Blair's neck, lifting his head and forcing his mouth open. Bitter water slid down his throat, making him cough and spit. More replaced it. The hand released its hold, and Blair's head hit the ground hard, causing him to see stars.
Blair wished for his eyesight. It was frightening, the not knowing. Not knowing where he was, what was happening…what was about to happen.
The hands returned, grabbing Blair's arms and dragging him across the ground. The movement ignited a multitude of pains in a multitude of places. Soft groaning filled the air. Blair had feeling it was his own voice he was hearing.
The movement stopped after a few minutes, and his arms were dropped to the ground. His hands were pulled together, and something coarse was looped around them, biting painfully into the flesh.
Blair's confused mind could make no sense of the sensations. After a few minutes, he became aware of soft mutterings. He strained to hear them over the loud ringing in his ears. He felt if he could hear the words, maybe he'd learn what was happening to him.
"…get him out…your head…Ellison's influence…"
The ramblings were disjointed, and concentrating on them only made Blair's head hurt worse. Something tugged hard on Blair's wrists, then he felt himself being lifted, his arms pulled over his head. Blair was frightened by the movements he couldn't identify. The strain on his arms increased to an almost unbearable level. Panic set in, as his weight was sifted to his arms, tightening his chest and making it difficult to breath.
"…purge his influence…my senses will return…"
Blair groaned aloud, unable to bear the pain in his arms any longer in silence.
"…almost over…"
Please, God, let it be almost over!
~~~ The connection was nothing more than a glowing ember, but it was still there. Jim took heart from the knowledge it hadn't gone completely out. Blair was still alive.
Jim picked up his pace, certain his destination was close. He could hear soft mutterings in the distance and focused his hearing on them. After a few seconds, the words became discernible.
"…purge his influences…" Mikal, Jim instantly recognized. "…my senses return…"
The man's senses were gone? Jim smiled to himself. Good to know. It would give him the upper hand.
"…almost over…"
Jim could hear something else over the nearly incoherent mumblings. Breathing, strained and harsh. Blair…and something was very wrong! Jim attempted to pinpoint his Guide's heartbeat, but couldn't slow his own enough to successfully locate it.
The pair came into view as Jim broke into a small clearing and froze.
Dear God…
Jim ignored the other Sentinel, whose back was to him, focusing solely on his Guide. Blair was hanging by his wrists from a tree. His eyes were closed, and he was so still panic filled Jim's heart. Only the harsh breathing indicated he was still alive. His face was swollen and bloody, his shirt torn to reveal darkening flesh beneath.
A deep, burning rage flared within Jim for the bastard who had abused his Guide so badly. He turned his attention to the Sentinel, noticing for the first time what the man was doing, and his heart stopped.
Still muttering insensibly to himself, Mikal was piling wood beneath Blair's dangling feet. "…burn him out of your head, Guide…make room…a new connection…we'll start over…"
Jesus! The son of a bitch was going to burn Blair alive! The mutterings begin to make sense to Jim. The bastard thought he could kill their connection, Jim and Blair's, and replace it with his own.
Jim's own sanity left him, and he had only one thought in mind: kill the bastard. Jim raced forward on pure instinct. He launched himself at the crazy man, taking them both to the ground. Mikal rolled to his feet, but Jim was already up and waiting. Without giving Mikal a chance to clear his head, he landed a ram-like fist into the other man's mouth, putting him on his back once more. Jim lunged again, but in his haste slipped, and his chin encountered a lifting knee. He fell back, staggering as he fought to regain his balance.
Mikal was on him in an instant. It was a rough and tumble flurry of fists and kicks for long moments, then both men fell back, panting hard. Jim wiped his sleeve across his forehead. Something moist was dripping down the side of his face, but he didn't know if it was sweat or blood, nor did he care. His only thought was to stop this man who would dare harm his Guide.
"You are too late, Ellison," the other Sentinel said, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "I will replace you in his head, and then he will be mine. Soon, he won't even remember you."
Jim circled to his right, trying to move Mikal away from Blair. "You're wrong, Yagudin. You can't remove the connection, and even if you could, you can't force Blair to connect with you."
The other man growled, low in his throat, circling with Jim.
"If you were a true Sentinel, you'd die rather than hurt your Guide. You don't deserve a Guide. You don't deserve Blair. Look at him! Look what you've done to him! Is this the way a Sentinel treats his Guide?"
The man's eyes darted quickly to where Blair hung from the tree, unaware of the fight taking place for his life. There was a flicker of something, some emotion in Mikal's eyes, and Jim was hit with the sudden realization that the Sentinel didn't really know he was hurting Blair. Yagudin didn't understand he was killing the Guide in an attempt to claim him.
Jim kept speaking, pushing in hopes he could break through the insanity. "A Sentinel who could hurt a Guide is not a true Sentinel."
Mikal took another step to the right. His eyes were darting between Jim and Blair now, and he seemed to be listening to Jim. Jim could only hope Mikal understood what he was saying. "Blair is sick. He needs help. A true Sentinel would want to help his Guide, no matter the cost. The Guide comes first. His safety, his health is the most important consideration to a Sentinel, a true Sentinel."
The man's eyes softened as they rested on Blair's battered form, and Jim's heart gave a leap of hope. He was still in there somewhere, and Jim was beginning to reach him.
He could almost feel sorry for Mikal, if the circumstances weren't been so dire. If it had been him, if Jim hadn't been the chosen Sentinel, would he have become as desperate as Mikal? Jim wanted to think he'd never have harmed Blair, no matter how insane he might have become, but one thing he knew for certain: if Blair hadn't connected with him, Jim would never have kept his sanity.
A sudden understanding snuck into Jim's thoughts. It hadn't been Arledge… nor Rouse, Gilliam, or Porch. The choice had never been theirs to make.
"It was never anyone's choice but mine and Blair's," he mused, not realizing he was speaking aloud. "Maybe not even ours. Maybe it was out of everyone's hands. Maybe it was destiny…"
Jim realized his mistake when the other Sentinel gave a roar of unmitigated fury, launching himself at Jim with a new determination. He braced himself to meet the attack with a resolve of his own. He would protect his Guide at all cost, because to fail would mean both their deaths.
As the Sentinels clashed, the connection flamed to life.
~~~ A new sound encroached on Blair's misery, even as the connection rekindled in his head. Loud growls, like the cry of a wildcat, filled his ears, but Blair wasn't afraid. Panic had fled with the restoration of the connection.
The air filled with an electrical charge. Blair felt the tension pull at the connection. He tuned out the sounds around him, drawing his attention inward. He focused on the bright flicker of the connection, pouring all of the strength he could manage into it. The ember flared into blinding brilliance.
Suddenly, Blair was aware of hands on his. The weight on his arms was lifted, then he was being lowered to the ground. Soft words were spoken in his ears, but he didn't understand them, nor did he try to. He was safe. Nothing else was important.
~~~ Jim continued to speak soft assurances to his Guide, long after his senses told him the young man had fallen asleep. Only when he was certain there was no chance the kid would pick up on his emotions, did Jim allow his rage to burn.
He had never been so frightened in his life as he had been when he had burst into the clearing to find Blair hanging by his wrists from a tree. Jim's blood boiled thinking about what the other Sentinel had been attempting to do.
If Jim had been just a few minutes later…Dear God…Jim closed his eyes as relief washed over him, so profound it left him lightheaded.
Opening his eyes again, he let his gaze drift over his Guide. The kid was battered and bloody, but a beautiful sight to his Sentinel. Jim took a moment to run his senses over Blair, frowning at what he found. Fever raged through the battered, too-thin body. Beneath the darkening bruises, blood and grime, his skin was much too pale. Was it too late? Had he found Blair, only to lose him now because the Q-fever had been allowed to ravage his Guide unchecked for too long?
Jim scrambled for his pack, lost in the fight. He found it, its contents scattered around the clearing. It took another minute to locate the syringe. It had been stepped on by one or the other of the Sentinels, but was luckily still whole. Jim quickly uncapped the needle, and administered the precious medication, praying he wasn't too late.
He spent the next few minutes making a soft bed for Blair and moving him, then he poured a small amount of water from his canteen onto a scrap of his shirt and begin to wash his Guide.
Jim's fury blazed nearly out of control as he uncovered more and more evidence of the abuse the kid had suffered with each layer of blood and grime he rinsed away.
Finally, satisfied he had done all he could for his Guide, Jim sat back and waited.
~~~ Something was different. Blair didn't have to open his eyes to know it. The air was different. Gone was the crackle of static he had come to associate with Mikal. Did that mean the Sentinel was gone as well? Blair was afraid to hope.
Gingerly, he cracked his eyelids, or at least one of them. The other was held together by glue he couldn't break. Not that it would apparently matter. He still couldn't make out much more than bright and dark shapes around him.
One of the shapes began to move, and Blair felt his heart speed up with momentary fear. Almost instantly, the fear faded, replaced by a security and peace he hadn't known in a very long time.
Jim.
The Sentinel confirmed it. "Morning, Chief."
Blair rolled his head cautiously toward the voice, wishing he could see the man's face. "Jim…" God, his voice sounded weak. He wasn't sure even a Sentinel could have heard it.
"Relax, and lay still."
"You…found me," Blair managed.
"Did you doubt I would?" Jim's voice smiled.
Blair tried to smile back, but it pulled painfully at his split lower lip. He settled for a small shake of the head, hoping it wouldn't fall off with the movement. "Never," he lied. Okay, he had doubted, but that was before he had given in and accepted the connection. From the moment it had blazed into full life, Blair had known Jim would come. He just hadn't known if it would be in time. "Sick…"
"Yeah, Chief, I know. I gave you something last night to help. Your vital signs are stronger already, but you need the full treatment soon. Doctor Gilliam is waiting for us with more. You're going to be fine, kid. Just as soon as you're up to it, we'll get the hell out of here."
"Jim…Mikal?" Blair hoped Jim would understand the question.
There was a long pause, and Blair was afraid the man hadn't heard him. He opened his mouth to repeat the question, but Jim beat him to it.
"He's gone."
Blair waited, but Jim did not seem inclined to elaborate. Blair decided not to push. Jim was here. Mikal was not. It was enough.
~~~ Simon swatted impatiently at a fly which seemed determined to land on his neck, his attention remaining on the jungle around him. Jim had said two to three days. It had been two and a half. Simon was getting restless, imagining all kinds of scenarios, none of them good.
A rustling in the bushes drew Simon from his thoughts. Cautiously, he drew his gun. Twice before he had been alerted to movement, only to discover it was merely small animals, looking for a meal. Still, it didn't pay to become too complacent. They'd been lucky so far, but Simon was well aware of how dangerous the border zones were.
Simon stepped toward the sound just as Jim broke through the bushes into the clearing, nearly giving the older man a heart attack on the spot. The Sentinel half-led, half-carried a young man Simon assumed to be the missing Guide.
"Jim!" Simon put away his gun, running toward his friend, relief lending him speed. "Gilliam! Jim's back!"
Simon reached the two men, immediately taking the young Guide's free arm and wrapping it around his own shoulders.
"Thanks, Simon," Jim offered wearily. "Blair, our savior here is Simon Banks, friend, boss, and all around good guy. Simon, meet Blair Sandburg. My Guide."
"It's a pleasure…Mr. Banks…" the boy replied, not bothering to lift his head from where it lolled against his chest. "My apologies for…not standing up to…meet you."
"You are standing, Chief," Jim said with a tired smile.
"Oh." The kid took a few more steps. "Then, my apologies…for stinking."
Jim laughed. "That you do, kid."
"Sure would like…a hot bath…"
"I'll see what I can do," Jim promised. "Might take a few more days, though."
"Settle for a bed…"
Exhaustion thickened the kid's voice, and it was no wonder. He looked terrible. Come to think of it, Simon realized, lifting his eyes to his friend, Jim didn't look much better. Cuts and scratches covered the arms and face of the Sentinel. If Simon didn't know better, he'd swear Jim had gone ten rounds with a wildcat.
"A bed, I can do," Jim assured his Guide. "And all the sleep you can stand. You've earned it."
Looking at the boy, Simon was inclined to agree.
~~~ Jim was bone weary after their two day hike through the jungle, but sleep was the last thing on his mind. He wasn't yet ready to relinquish his watch over his Guide. Blair slept peacefully, life-saving medicines dripping into his veins from an IV bag.
Gilliam had done all he could for Blair. Time would have to do the rest. Jim wished he dared take the young man north to a reputable hospital, but he knew it wouldn't make a difference. They could do no more for his Guide than Gilliam. Besides, he couldn't take the risk Arledge would find them. They were safe where they were, at least until Blair was strong enough to travel. Then…
God! Jim rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. Then…what? What would they do? Where would they go? Jim had threatened to disappear into the unsettled zones, and if it became necessary, he would, but it was no kind of life. The kid had been through so much. He deserved better.
"How's he doing?"
Jim turned, spotting Simon in the doorway. "Better, I think. His vital signs are stronger. He was restless earlier, but he's settled down now."
Simon moved to Jim's side. "Good. Tough one, isn't he?"
Jim smiled down at his Guide. "You don't know the half of it, Simon."
"No, I guess, I don't, but I hope to find out."
The two men were quiet for a long moment, each lost in his own thoughts. Simon broke the silence. "I can't believe he's over a hundred years old. My God, Jim…it just doesn't seem real."
Jim's jaw tightened. He didn't blame Simon, but his was the attitude Jim feared. He didn't want Blair to feel more like a freak than he already did. The kid had enough to deal with as it was. "It's real, Simon. He's real. He's just a kid, for all practical purposes. A frightened kid."
"I understand, Jim. I know he's got a lot to work through. He's not alone, though. I'll do what I can to help you help him."
Jim spared a smile of thanks for his friend.
"How old is he?" Simon asked. "I mean…not technically, but really? No, that's not what I mean, either…hell…"
Jim chuckled. "I know what you mean, Simon. He's twenty-four, going on seventeen." At Simon's confused look, Jim explained. "He was seventeen when they froze him, but it didn't work right. He kept aging for another six years, so technically, he's twenty-four--"
"'splains it…"
Jim barely heard the soft whisper. He turned to find one blue eye cracked open, the other still swollen shut. "What's that, Chief?"
"'splains it…"
"Explains what?" Jim was confused.
Blair swallowed before answering. "What I saw…in the mirror…older…"
Jim frowned. One more thing for the kid to deal with. Damn it! Where did it stop?
"…guess I can buy beer now…"
The humor caught Jim by surprise. "Guess so, old man." He laughed.
"Jim…"
"What is it, Chief?" Jim asked, leaning closer to his Guide.
"I can…" Blair stopped, licking dry lips. "I…can choose…"
"Choose?" Jim's heart stopped, wondering if this was going where he suspected. "Yeah, Blair, you can. The choice has always been yours. Whatever you decide, we'll work it out. I'll support you no matter what--"
"Jim!" The one open eye blinked slowly. "My choice…and I choose…you."
~~~ Gilliam snatched his arm out of his "escort's" hold and made a show of straightening his shirt as the man across the desk from him not-so-silently fumed.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have you thrown in a cell next to your accomplice! One reason!"
"Because I can save your ass," Gilliam stated bluntly. His days of being intimidated by Arledge and his power were over. Gilliam was the one wielding the power now, and he was about to see how the President liked being on the wrong side of it for a change.
Without waiting for an invitation which would probably never come, Gilliam sat down. "Make yourself comfortable, Mr. President. I think you'll be wanting to sit down for this."
Arledge stood for several long moments, ignoring the doctor's advice. Finally, still fuming, he lowered himself to his chair. "You had better make this good, Gilliam, and you had better make this fast, because I am quickly losing patience with you. Where in the hell are my Sentinel and Guide?"
"None of your business…sir. They are safe. From Yagudin, and from you. I'm here as their emissary. They have…demands. I'm here to lay them out for you, and to take your answer back to them."
"What makes you think you'll be walking out of here? I have my choice of more than a dozen charges I can bring against you, not the least of which is treason."
Gilliam laughed out loud. "Treason? Respectfully, sir," his tone anything but, "you are stretching." Gilliam leaned forward, resting his hands on the huge oak desk. "Now, Ellison and Sandburg have a few demands. First, Porch will be released and all charges against him dropped. He will be reinstated in his position…if he so desires. Frankly, I can't see Daniel ever wanting to work for you again, but it's his choice. Secondly, and a bit selfishly, you won't bring any charges against me. You will, however accept my resignation. I'll be pursuing a career in the private sector."
The large, throbbing vein on the President's forehead was not a sign of good health, Gilliam decided with some amusement. "Thirdly -- and this is the part you really need to listen carefully to -- Ellison and Sandburg will be left alone to live a normal life. The key word here, sir, is 'normal', as in typical, ordinary, average, run of the mill…well, I think you get the picture. Your people will not approach them, harass them, or even so much as look sideways at them."
"Are you quite finished?" Arledge asked, his voice deceptively calm.
Gilliam leaned back. "No, not quite. In exchange for these…accommodations…Ellison and Sandburg, as well as myself and Doctor Porch will agree not to hang you out by your--" He paused, collecting himself and putting a lid on his anger for the moment. "We'll agree not to inform the world of exactly what you've been up to for the past few months."
"You're bluffing," Arledge accused. "You have as much to lose as I do if this becomes public knowledge."
"Maybe so, sir, but it's a risk we're willing to take."
Arledge was quiet for a long time. Gilliam sat patiently, an annoying smile gracing his face as he waited. Finally, the President stabbed angrily at the intercom button on his desk. "Have Doctor Porch brought up here. Now."
Gilliam gave a silent cheer. He hadn't been entirely convinced he wouldn't be ending this day in a jail cell. Careful to keep his face impassive, he waited until the President returned his attention to him. "One more thing -- we have taken precautions to assure there are no unfortunate 'accidents'. Not only have we left detailed documents in various safe locations, but we have also informed a few key people, worldwide, of your…secret. Should any of us meet with an accident, come up missing, or simply feel threatened, these documents will be publicly released. If I were you, sir, I would pray really hard neither Jim Ellison nor Blair Sandburg are ever in a car wreck."
Arledge's dark eyes flashed. "Get out."
Gilliam suppressed a grin. He stood, giving the President a mock salute. "Yes, sir." He turned for the door. "Oh, and, sir?" He waited until Arledge looked up. "You might want to get that vein over your left eye checked out. It really shouldn't throb like that." Sensing an eminent explosion, Gilliam opened the door and left.
~~~ "Are you sure I can't change your mind?"
Daniel spared a quick glance for General Rouse, but didn't slow his pace. "Do you honestly think I would continue working for you after everything that's happened?"
"Despite our differences--"
Daniel snorted loudly.
"We were working toward the same goal," the general finished, ignoring the derisive noise.
They reached the exit door and stopped. Daniel looked at Rouse, wondering if the man truly believed what he was saying. "Our goals, General, were worlds apart. My interest in this project was the safe revival of Blair Sandburg."
It was Rouse's turn to snort. "You sound very sanctimonious, Doctor, but I think we both know better. Your interest was a functioning Guide--"
"I think our definition of 'functioning' is where we differ."
"Possibly," Rouse conceded. "However, the end result is no different."
"Except in your scenario, Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg would be captive pawns of the military for the rest of their lives."
"You could get hurt jumping to conclusions."
"Are you trying to tell me that wasn't Arledge's plan?"
"Arledge is full of himself," Rouse replied. "Fortunately, he doesn't wield the power he thinks he does."
Daniel narrowed his eyes. "And your intention…?"
"To protect Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison, of course."
"Of course," Daniel replied sarcastically. "As prisoners of the government, they'd be very safe, I'm sure."
"You can't be as naïve as you pretend, Doctor Porch. Do you honestly believe they can live a 'normal' life? How long do you honestly think they'll be able to hide what they are? Eventually, they're going to draw the wrong kind of attention, and then how safe will they be? At least in our custody, they would've been protected."
"Freedom often comes with a price. We happen to think it's worth the risks."
Rouse sighed. "For their sake, I hope you're right."
Daniel silently echoed the hope. He moved toward the door and his own freedom. "Forgive me, General, if I'm not anxious to hang around and chat."
"Doctor…"
Porch stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Rouse was holding out a slip of paper. After a slight hesitation, Daniel accepted it. Scrawled across it was a series of phone numbers. He looked at Rouse questioningly.
"Just in case you're wrong," the general said.
"What makes you think I would ever trust the government for help?" Porch asked in disbelief.
"Those aren't government numbers."
Porch shook his head. "I'm not wrong." Nevertheless, he folded the paper and slipped it into his shirt pocket.
Rouse extended his hand. "I regret we can't part under better circumstances, Doctor."
Daniel studied the man's face and found nothing but sincerity. "Likewise, General," he said, accepting the hand.
"I pray you never need those numbers, Daniel."
"That makes two of us, sir." Daniel turned and pushed through the door. "That makes two of us."
~~~ Jim hung up the phone and went in search of Blair. He found the young man sitting in the darkness on the deck, gazing up at a cloudless night sky. The Sentinel took a moment to study his Guide.
Blair was still far too thin to satisfy Jim. He'd have to work on fattening the kid up. Blair tired easily, and spent a great deal of time sleeping, but Gilliam had assured them it was part of the body's natural healing process. Some of the bruises had healed, others were just coming into their full color, making the kid look like a living rainbow.
"Are you going to stand there and watch me all night, Jim?"
Jim smiled. Busted. "Just checking, Chief."
"You're 'checking' every ten minutes. I'm fine, man, let it go."
"You're not fine, Blair…but you will be. Until then, let me check. What does it hurt?" Jim crossed the wooden deck and sat in the chair beside Blair. "What were you thinking about?"
Blair shrugged, returning his gaze to the star-filled sky. "Dunno…life…death…old age. Still trying to wrap my mind around the fact I'm twenty-four."
"Going on seventeen," Jim reminded him with a chuckle.
"Yeah, but I can buy beer, man." The blue eyes twinkled with mischief.
Jim wasn't fooled by the good humor. He knew this would be something the young man would have to work through over time, but he had no doubt Blair would eventually come to grips with it. "I have good news."
Blair dropped his gaze, meeting Jim's with curiosity. "Oh?"
"I just talked to Gilliam."
Blair sat up. "He had good news? They bought it?"
Jim grinned. "Yep. Seems Arledge is willing to deal to keep this out of the headlines. He can't risk the wrong people finding he has a working cryogenic chamber. Well, semi-working. I have my doubts they'll figure it out in this lifetime, especially since Porch destroyed his notes."
"And Doctor Porch?"
"On a plane as we speak, heading for Cascade."
Blair closed his eyes, relief pouring off of him. "Thank God!" He opened his eyes, settling back in his chair. "Those two are good people, Jim."
Jim nodded, knowing who Blair was referring to. "Yeah, Chief, they are. They risked a lot for us."
"I know, and believe me, I'm grateful. And what they're planning to do now…Jim, it's fantastic! Think of what this will mean for Sentinels, man. If Gilliam can take what he's learned from us and find a way to apply it to other Sentinels, man…"
"No one knows better than me, Chief." Jim wasn't sure how much could be done for other Sentinels without a Guide, but he wanted to believe there was hope. There had to be an alternative other than drugs or insanity. If anyone could find it, Jim was convinced it would be Gilliam.
"And hey, how cool is it that Doctor Porch will be in Cascade? Someone who is familiar with my weird medical history…just in case."
"There will be no 'just in case', Chief," Jim stated adamantly. "But yeah, it will be 'cool' to have him there." He watched Blair for a minute, nervous about approaching his next subject. "Are you okay with this, Blair? About going back to Cascade with me, I mean? You're not just doing this because you feel you don't have any other alternatives, are you? Because if that's the case--"
Blair held up a hand, stopping Jim. "Hey, man, I told you, I chose you, remember? I meant that."
Jim nodded. He remembered. He just needed to be sure.
"What am I going to do though, Jim? I mean, I don't exactly have any experience at anything other than being a lab rat, and I don't think I can turn that into a viable occupation. And where am I going to live until I can find a job?"
"With me," Jim said. "That is, if you want to. My loft is plenty big enough. There's a spare room we could easily turn into a bedroom for you. As for what you can do, I've been thinking about it. What about going back to school? With your brains, you would have no trouble getting into college. There's a really good one in Cascade, Rainier University. I have some friends there I could talk to, if you're interested." Jim didn't miss the way Blair's eyes lit up.
"Are you serious, man? Really? I could go to college? That would be--"
It was Jim's turn to hold up a hand. "I know…'way cool, man!'" Both men laughed. Once they had sobered, Jim asked, "Have any idea what you might like to study?"
"Oh, definitely!" Blair answered, enthusiastically. "Archeology and anthropology! I've always had an interest in those areas. It's what I wanted to do before my life got screwed with. Now…" he paused, his excitement visibly evaporating. "Now, I guess I have an "in". I lived it, man."
Jim nodded, understanding.
"I need to know what happened, Jim. To my mom, and to my world. I need to find out, if I can."
"I think it's a good choice, Blair."
They grew quiet, contemplative. After a few minutes of the companionable silence, Jim asked, "So, how about we head home tomorrow? Get started on this new life?"
"Home." Blair grinned broadly. "I like the sound of that, man." His grin faded. "But…would it be all right if we stayed here a couple of more days? I know you're probably anxious to get back and pick up your life, but…"
"Sure, Blair, we can do that."
"I just don't really feel like I've got my legs under me yet, you know? It's still a little…I don't know…new. And it's so peaceful here. So quiet. I can almost believe I'm back in my own time. I know I have to face reality eventually, Jim. I'm just not ready yet."
"I understand," Jim assured his friend. "Take all the time you need. We have a lifetime."
~~~ Blair made a conscious effort to stop fidgeting. He knew by Jim's furtive glances he was failing. A few deep breaths helped…for a few minutes, then he was back to fidgeting.
"You're going to wear a hole in the seat if you don't sit still, Chief, and you have no idea how hard they are to replace."
A small grin tugged at the corners of Blair's mouth, despite his anxiety. "I can well imagine how hard it would be, Jim. This being such an antique, and all."
"Watch what you say about Sweetheart, kid," Jim warned with a laugh. "I'll have you know this truck is a classic. The year they built her was a very good year."
Blair raised both hands in a placating gesture. "Oh, yeah, man. It's the year I was born. But at least I had a nice long rest to preserve the working parts, if you know what I mean."
Jim cast a mock scowl in Blair's direction. "I've spent a small fortune to restore her. She's in better shape now than when she was built."
Blair chuckled. Jim was probably right. The truck looked great, and seemed to run perfectly. Besides, this old truck was like a slice of home. Maybe Blair could find an old relic of his own and restore it. A Mustang, maybe…or a Volvo. That would be nice. Naomi had driven a Volvo.
Of course, he'd have to find a job to be able to afford it. Blair sighed, not missing the worried glance Jim threw his way.
"Almost home, Blair," Jim assured.
"Great." Blair forced a smile, wishing that had sounded a bit more enthusiastic. He was going home. Jim's home. And while the Sentinel was quick to assure Blair it would be his home too, Blair couldn't help feeling like an interloper.
Attempting to distract himself from his thoughts, Blair concentrated on the passing scenery. There were so many people. He hadn't seen this many people in…forever. At the labs, there had been only the doctors, a few technicians and a teacher or two to help Blair keep up with school work. Here, there were hundreds of people, driving, walking, hurrying about their lives. It was amazing…and wonderful! He wanted to get out of the truck and go talk to each and every one of them. Interview them, learn about their lives. How similar would their lives be to people from Blair's time? In what ways would they be different? Anthropology was definitely a good study choice, Blair realized happily.
They rounded a corner into a parking lot and stopped. They were home…only it wouldn't be "home" in the true sense of the word. Blair sighed again. Naomi had always maintained it took more than a brick and mortar building to make a home. She had said home was where the people most important to you in the world were, be that a tent, a house, or even a car.
Blair glanced over at Jim. The Sentinel -- his Sentinel, he noted with a sense of pride -- was the only person in this world important to him. He tried not to remind himself tht Jim was one of the few people he even knew in this world. So if Naomi's definition was accurate, Blair figured Jim's loft would be home.
So why did he feel depressed?
He knew the answer, even as he asked the question. It was because he had nothing, not one thing which was his. All of his "things" -- his mementoes, his pictures, his books -- had presumably been lost or destroyed decades ago. Blair had never been one to value material stuff, thanks to Naomi's influence, but in the labs, it had been a comfort to have his things around him, and now…he had nothing. Even the clothes on his back he owed to Jim's mercy.
"Chief?"
Blair pulled himself from the depressing thoughts, to find Jim looking at him questioningly.
"You gonna stay out here the rest of the day?"
"This it?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.
"This is it." Jim climbed out of the truck, and after a few seconds hesitation, Blair followed.
The two men entered the building and Blair let Jim lead the way up the stairs to the third floor. Jim fished a key from his pocket and opened the door, then stood back to let Blair enter ahead of him.
Blair stepped into his new home and looked around. "Wow…you weren't kidding, Jim. It's big." He stepped further into the main room. "And nice. Very nice. You rent or own, man?" Realizing how rude the question was, he hurried to add, "Oh, sorry, none of my business."
Jim chuckled. "No big deal, Chief. It's mine. Bought it with some back pay I got from the military. Long story. I'll tell you about it someday."
Blair nodded, making a mental note to remind Jim. He had a feeling it'd be an interesting story.
"My room is at the top of the stairs," Jim pointed out. "The bathroom is right over there…and your room…" He moved to a set of double French doors off the main room and opened them. "…is right here."
Blair followed, stopping in the doorway. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He had expected…not this. Jim had said he used the spare room as a storeroom, and Blair had figured they'd have to convert it over the next few days. Only this room was already set up as a bedroom.
"Jim?" He glanced behind him to find Jim grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Simon took care of it," Jim explained. "And some of the guys from the station."
"Wow…" Words left Blair as he took in the furnishings of the room…his room.
There was a bed, dresser, bookshelf, desk…basic furniture, but it was the other stuff which left Blair speechless.
He wandered around the room, taking in the various accessories. On the top of the bookshelf was a stereo, complete with a good size stack of CDs. Blair leaned over, reading their titles. Metallica, Creed, Rolling Stone…not exactly Blair's choice of music, but it was like a blast from the past. He glanced over his shoulder at Jim. The man was watching him carefully from the doorway.
Blair reserved his comments, still taking in the furnishings. He let his gaze sweep briefly over the books on the shelves. He was surprised to realize many of the titles were favorites of his, until he remembered a conversation he and Jim had had a week or so ago. He looked up. "So this is why you've been prying stories out me about my past."
Jim moved into the room. "I just wanted it to feel like home. I know you must feel like you have nothing, but it's not true." He let his hand sweep over the room. "You have this, and we'll get anything else you want. You name it, and if it can be had, we'll get it."
Blair blinked at the man, stunned. "Jim…I…I don't know what to say, man. This is…" He let his gaze sweep the room again. It was filled with stuff from Blair's time…even the pictures on the wall. Blair's eyes came to rest on one picture in particular, and he laughed before he could catch himself. "Britney Spears, Jim?"
"I read somewhere that all teenage boys in your time had a poster of her in their bedrooms. Personally, I don't see the attraction." He paused, studying the picture. "Well, okay, I can see the attraction to a teenage hormone machine…"
Blair didn't know whether to be insulted or touched. He settled for indignant. "Jim! I'm not thirteen, man! Besides, I never was the 'Britney Spears' type. I was more…more the 'Madonna' type."
Jim's expression questioned the comment. "Okay, I'm going to assume you aren't talking about the Virgin Mother. No problem, we can get rid of this…lady." He moved toward the picture of Britney, but Blair grabbed his arm, stopping him.
"Nah, man, that's okay," Blair said, waggling his eyebrows. "She can stay…for now. Seriously, though, man, how did you manage all this?" "I gave Simon a list, he doled it out to the guys. It's their job, remember, to track down elusive people and items. Some of it is just reproductions…some of it came from antique stores."
"Jim…" Blair searched for words to express his feelings. "I can't believe you went to so much trouble to just make me feel more comfortable. I…I just don't know what to say."
"Does it?" Jim asked, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "Help make you feel more comfortable, I mean?"
Blair smiled, a real smile, from the heart, hoping Jim would catch the sincerity. "It's not the things, Jim, though they're great. It's the idea you'd do this, that you even thought to do this. Man, it means so much to me. You have no idea."
Relief poured off of the Sentinel as he returned Blair's smile. "I want it to feel like home."
Blair nodded. Home. Namoi was right. Home was more than a brick and mortar structure. It was where the people most important in the world to you were. He smiled at his Sentinel.
He was home.
~~~ Epilogue…
"They all know? Every one of them?" The thought of so many people staring at him, wondering about the "hundred year old freak" made Blair want to run back to Jim's loft and hide.
"Not all of them, Chief," Jim assured. "Just the ones I'd trust with my life, with your life. They're my friends, and they'll be yours, too, in time. Trust me, on this, Blair. The more people who know our secret, within reason, the safer we'll be."
Blair nodded. Though he understood the reasons, the idea made him more than a little nervous. "Okay, man, lead on. Let's get this over with." Blair took a deep breath and pulled his new glasses out of his pocket, sliding them on. He really only needed them for reading, but right now he needed the illusion of a mask to hide behind.
It couldn't be as bad as the day he had started classes at the university, he reasoned. Blair had been a wreck. Not only was he new man on campus with no idea where to go or how he would fit in, but he'd been out of the classroom environment for so long he wasn't sure he could remember how it all worked. Yet, he had survived, and had, in fact, made several new friends -- friends who didn't have a clue who or what he was, and had simply accepted him just for himself. Remembering his recent success gave Blair the courage to follow Jim through the doors into the squad room.
The room was bustling with activity. Jim led the way through the thick of it, Blair tagging as close behind him as he could get without actually stepping on the back of the man's shoes. Jim stopped at an office in the back of the room, knocked on the door, and opened it without waiting for an answer.
Inside, Jim stepped to one side, forcing Blair to come around him. The young man looked up, finding himself staring at four men, counting Simon Banks, and a woman, all of whom where looking at him as though he had grown a third eye. He resisted the urge to turn tail and run, resistance which was greatly aided by Jim closing the door behind them.
"Good to see you again, Sandburg."
Blair offered Captain Banks a nervous smile. "Thanks," he mumbled.
"Gentlemen…and lady…" Jim said, putting a supporting hand on Blair's shoulder, "I'd like you to meet Blair Sandburg."
The woman stepped forward, offering her hand. "Nice to meet you, Blair," she said in a strongly accented voice. "I'm Megan Connor. Glad to have you aboard."
"Same here," a large, dark-skinned man said. "Joel Taggart. You've got your hands full, Blair, keeping Jim in line. I don't envy you." The big man's hand engulfed Blair's, shaking it enthusiastically.
"Henri Brown," the tallest of the two remaining men introduced. "You need any help with Jim, look me up -- or with anyone around here. I've got the dirt on everyone."
"Which means he's nosy and a gossip," the last man said, stepping forward. "Rafe."
Blair lifted an eyebrow.
"Just Rafe," the young man assured him.
"That's because he has such an interesting first name," Brown said, with a wink at Blair.
Rafe's expression made Blair chuckle. The man turned a very interesting shade of pink. "You open your mouth, H, and you're dead."
Blair could tell it was an old joke, revived for his sake. He appreciated the effort, and was grateful to realize it was working. He felt much less nervous.
"I guess you guys are my safety net," Blair said, feeling uncharacteristically shy.
"You can trust us, Sandy," Megan said. "We're pretty good at keeping secrets."
Blair raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "I do…trust you, that is. Jim says you guys are cool, and I'm down with that."
"You'll get used to the weird talk," Jim informed his friends, a note of fond amusement in his voice as he walked over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. Blair watched as Joel and Simon lifted their eyebrows in surprise. Jim took a big swallow and grinned in contentment, as if he hadn't had coffee in years.
"Until then," Jim continued, "I can be your translator. He says he's okay with you guys being in on his secret because I approved you."
Blair blushed at the chuckles directed his way. He didn't talk weird, he reasoned, it was just that no one here was up on hip slang. He could correct that, given time.
"Sandburg…"
Blair looked up at the captain.
"I understand it's necessary for you to work with Jim on the job."
"Well, yeah, he's new at this Sentinel stuff, and his senses aren't completely under control yet, so he'll have to have help when he's using them in the course of his work, you know, for a while, and that doesn't even cover the zone outs, man -- until he gets used to anchoring himself with a second sense while he focuses on one, he's going to be susceptible to zones and even spikes, but that's what I'm here for, so as long as he--"
"Hold it!" Simon held up a hand. "Slow down, and take a breath, kid."
Blair dipped his head in embarrassment. He always had tended to ramble when he was nervous. "Sorry. Yes, sir, it's necessary for me to work with Jim on the job." He looked up in time to catch the amused smile on the captain's face.
"I've pulled a few strings, got you a ride along position as an observer." He handed Blair an ID badge. "But understand this, kid, this is a dangerous job. You follow the rules, and you listen to Jim." To Jim he added, "I'm holding you personally responsible for the kid's safety, Jim."
"Yes, sir. I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Now," Simon addressed the entire room, "don't you ladies have something to do…elsewhere?"
Blair followed Jim from the office, relieved and pleased at how well it had gone. He was a good judge of people, and he liked Jim's friends, a lot. They were good people, like Jim had said.
Jim led the way to a desk near one of the side doors. "This is my desk, Chief. This is where you'll be doing my reports."
"Hey, hang on, man." Blair argued, not missing the twinkle of amusement in his Sentinel's eyes. "Captain said I'd be an observer, which means I watch. Pure and simple."
Jim pulled a chair up for Blair, then took a seat behind the desk. "You're all heart, Sandburg."
"Hey, what can I say? I have an ageless wisdom."
"That supposed to be amusing?"
"Not working, huh?"
"Not at all." Jim pulled open his top desk drawer and removed a small box, handing it to Blair.
Blair took the box, lifting an eyebrow. "What's this?"
"Open it and see," Jim suggested.
Curious, Blair pulled the lid back and peered inside. Breath left him as he saw what the box held. He felt the too familiar sting of tears and blinked hard to drive them away.
"It's a copy," Jim explained. "I had it laminated so it'd look and feel like the real thing."
Blair reached into the box, gently removing the copy of a California driver's license, issued almost one hundred years ago to one Naomi Ruth Sandburg, complete with a small photo of his mother. So she really had moved to California. Before or after, he wondered. He'd probably never know.
He ran his fingertips reverently across the image. She looked very much like she had the last time he'd seen her. A few more lines around the eyes, maybe…a little graying at the temples. He smiled warmly, pleased to know she had lived at least a few more years after he'd been frozen.
"It's the only thing we could find in the archives, Chief. I'm sorry.
Blair swallowed hard. "I…I don't know what to say, man." He looked up, surprised to see a suspicious dampness in Jim's eyes to match his own. "Thanks, man. I mean it. This means more to me than you know."
"I'm not giving up. I hope one day I can give you more."
Unable to speak around the lump in his throat, Blair merely nodded. He lovingly placed the card back into the box and closed the lid.
"Hey, what do you say we take an early lunch?" Jim suggested, lightening the moment.
"Simon won't care?"
"Nah, not if we invite him along."
"Seafood. Your treat. You still owe me. Don't think I've forgotten. I drank those crappy shakes, and you never gave me my shrimp. As a matter of fact, I'm thinking lobster."
"Don't push your luck, old man."
Blair groaned. He had a feeling he had just picked up a new nickname, but it was okay, because…well, nicknames were for friends.
~~~