"Oh, Blair," came the exhausted voice over the line, tinged with tears, "Eli's had a heart attack…."

"WHAT?" Sandburg exclaimed in shocked dismay, drawing Ellison's attention from the next desk. "Oh, God, Sarah…is he…is he alright?"

Sarah Stoddard, Eli's wife, took a steadying breath as she answered, "Yes…I hope so, anyway. He's just been working too hard, pushing himself too much…"

Blair heaved a sigh of relief, searching for his own calm as he asked quietly, "What happened?"

"He was working in his study last night, preparing for the next field trip, you know…well, he cried out for me and when I got there, he was holding onto his left arm, and, Blair, he was in so much pain…I was so frightened," she reported, her voice quavering. "Anyway, I called an ambulance, and the doctor said he'd been lucky. He's going to need bypass surgery, and then time to convalesce…about time he started taking care of himself, in my opinion."

Despite himself, Blair couldn't help a small smile at the slightly acerbic tone. Sarah had been trying to get Eli to slow down and smell the roses for years now. But, Eli Stoddard was too busy doing what he loved to do, too busy pursuing knowledge and understanding. Too busy sharing all his wisdom with others who drank it in, as Blair had, eagerly and gratefully…as he still did for that matter, whenever they got together.

Recollecting himself, he murmured, "I'm so sorry, Sarah…it must have been terrible. But…well, they have great success with the surgery these days. He should be just fine. I sure hope so, anyway. Is he at Cascade General or University Hospital?"

"University Hospital," she reported. "In the Coronary Care Unit. He wants to see you, Blair."

"Of course…can he have visitors?" Sandburg agreed readily.

"Yes, during the regular visiting hours in the afternoon and evening," she confirmed, sounding so very weary.

"Can I do anything for you? Do you need anything?" he asked then. If Eli had been like a father to him during all his years at Rainier, Sarah had been a kind of surrogate mother, though very different from his own free-spirited parent. Sarah held the fort while Eli roamed the world. She had her own strength and presence, active in the community on any number of volunteer boards…and a lot of love to give a scared and skinny, too smart for his own good, kid who was trying so desperately to fit in and not let anyone know how alone he'd felt.

"Oh, I'm fine, sweetie…just tired," Sarah replied. "It's the shock, you know…and I was, truly, so afraid. But I know Eli will be fine, if he's halfway sensible at all. I'm going to get some rest, and then go back to the hospital to see him this afternoon."

"I might see you there, then," Blair replied. "But, Sarah, I'm serious…if you need anything at all, any time, you just call me."

"I know, and I will, Blair," she replied, a smile in her voice. "I'll see you later."

When Blair hung up the phone, he sat staring at it for a long moment, sorting out his own feelings and letting the fear that had clutched his heart settle. Taking a breath, he closed his eyes and shook his head. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine a world without Eli Stoddard in it…never wanted to even imagine such a place or time.

"What's going on, Chief?" Ellison asked, rising to stand next to his desk.

Looking up, his face still a little pale from the shock of her message, Blair replied quietly, "Eli had a heart attack last night. He's okay," he hastened to add, though part of him realized that Jim had probably heard the whole conversation. The words were meant to reassure himself more than to allay any concerns Jim might have. "He's over at University Hospital. That was his wife, Sarah…he wants to see me."

"No surprise there," Jim replied, studying his friend. Ellison knew how important Eli Stoddard was in Sandburg's life…and how important Blair was to Eli. "He's going to be all right, Chief," Jim added, his voice low and reassuring. "Right?"

Smiling a little, appreciating the concern and the support, Blair nodded. "Yeah, man," he replied. "I know." His gaze moving to the clock on the wall, he continued, "I'm going to head over there this afternoon to see him."

"Want company?" Ellison offered.

"No, thanks anyway, Jim," Sandburg replied with another soft smile. He paused a moment more, his restless gaze taking in the files stacked on his desk and on his partner's. "In the meantime, I guess I should get back to work," he murmured.

Nodding silently, Ellison reached out to give his partner's shoulder a gentle squeeze, then went back to his own work station. For the next couple of hours, though, he couldn't help but notice that as much as Sandburg tried to concentrate on the paperwork, the police consultant's thoughts were only too obviously somewhere else.

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

Ever since Sarah had called the station that morning, Blair hadn't been able to concentrate on anything but his concern for Dr. Eli Stoddard. He found himself remembering the early days, when he'd first arrived at Rainier, and Eli had taken him under his wing. Sandburg had been in awe, unable to believe a man of Eli's stature could be the least bit interested in him, or his crazy ideas. But, Eli had listened, drawn him out, encouraged and supported him…taught him so very much. And had loved him. The hardest part of the whole Sentinel dissertation fiasco had been the rift it had caused between him and Eli. Blair couldn't bring himself to call his friend and mentor, ashamed to have let Eli down…and Eli hadn't called him, either. Not as it turned out because the older man had felt betrayed or that he thought Blair had lied to him, but because he would have fought Sandburg's decision to throw a brilliant career away…and the wise man had sensed that that was one battle Blair just didn't need at the time. When the miracle occurred, whatever its cause, and Blair had gotten the chance to achieve his doctorate, the best part about it for Sandburg was that he and Eli had healed the rift, had returned to their old, easy relationship. The older man's continued support and belief in him, Eli's constant love and understanding, had healed something broken inside of Sandburg, had restored a measure of peace to his soul.

As Blair entered the busy hospital on the edge of the campus, his mouth was dry and he felt a little breathless. God, he wanted so much for Eli to be all right, to survive this 'warning' and live for many, many years to come. After first stopping at 'Reception' for directions, he continued on to the fifth floor, to the CCU, and then asked again at the desk there for his friend's room number. Moments later, he entered the room quietly, with no little trepidation, not sure what to expect.

The head of the bed was raised to ease the older man's breathing, and Eli had the plastic purveyor of oxygen looped over his ears and under his nostrils. He was pale and looked tired…reduced somehow, his vitality dimmed. But, he saw Sandburg come in and his face lit with a welcoming smile as he waved gently toward a chair, calling softly, his voice a little breathy, "Blair! Come in, lad…come in!"

"Hey, Eli…" Sandburg replied, moving forward to take his friend's hand. "This is not the way to get attention, man…how're you doing?"

"Oh, I'll be fine," Eli replied, with a touch of the old impatience at being tied down. "They are going to do the surgery tomorrow, and after that, I should be almost as good as new…probably better. But… apparently, I have to take it easy for a while. You know the drill. Diet, exercise, lots of rest…"

His voice dropped away, disgusted at the inconvenience of it all.

Smiling, Blair shook his head at the tone. "You just do whatever the doctors tell you, you hear? This is a little too scary, Eli. I'm not up for losing you, not for a very long, long time. So…you be good!"

Smiling, the gentle teasing soothing his frustration, the love in Blair's eyes easing his sore heart, Eli nodded. "I'll be good, lad, I promise. Besides, there'd be no living with Sarah if I didn't behave," he assured his young friend.

"All right then," Blair nodded decisively. "So long as you know who's in charge."

"Sarah!" they said simultaneously, then chuckled. Releasing Eli's hand, Sandburg turned to hitch the chair a little closer. Sitting down, he turned his clear gaze back on his old friend. "So…how long do you actually have to behave yourself?" he asked impishly, knowing it wouldn't be easy for Eli to slow down.

"A few months…certainly, I'm not to take classes or go on any field trips this coming semester," Eli replied, rolling his eyes a little. He was too busy for this…there was too much to do. But, then, philosophically, he told himself that was probably the point. For too long, too many years, he'd been dashing about, all over the world, not paying any attention whatsoever to his own health or well-being.

"You'll manage," Blair assured him, with an encouraging smile. "It won't be so bad. You're always saying there's more to read than you have time for…and this'll give you a chance to put some quality time into your new book."

"True," Stoddard nodded, but a slight frown creased his visage as he paused, then studied Blair for a moment.

"What?" Sandburg asked, leaning forward to lay a hand on the older man's arm, alert to the nuances of expression and the uncertainty in Eli's eyes. "What's bothering you, Eli?"

Shrugging a little, then sighing, his fingers picking unconsciously at the sheet that covered him, Eli replied quietly, "Blair, I need to ask a big favour of you…and I know it won't be easy for you to grant it."

Cocking his head a little to the side, his brows raised in silent enquiry, Blair waited, wondering what Eli needed from him, willing to give anything in his power. "What favour?" he prompted.

Blowing out a breath, Eli got to it. "Well, you know I was scheduled to lead a field trip out to Moorea, to study a site that's just been discovered in the mountains there…not a big trip, just ten students for three, maybe four weeks…"

When Eli paused, not looking at him, Blair stilled, sensing where this was going. "I remember," he prompted, already wondering what he could say. Much as he hated to refuse Eli anything, he really wasn't in a position to pull up stakes by the weekend, which was when the trip was scheduled to begin.

Nodding, Eli took another wheezing breath as he turned his gaze to Blair's eyes. "I'd like you to substitute for me."

Blowing out the breath he'd been unconsciously holding, Blair sank back against the chair, as he shook his head. Grasping for a handy straw, he asked, "What would the University think of that? I'm not exactly high on their list of approved resources…I'm not even on the faculty, Eli."

"Oh, I can deal with that," Stoddard replied, then continued, "The real question is whether you could take the time away…"

Nodding a little, looking away, Blair swallowed. "That's the question, all right," he agreed, his voice soft. He'd only held his new position as a police consultant for a couple of months, after resigning his position as detective after accepting that he couldn't kill anyone to save his own life…not a healthy state of mind for a detective in the Major Crimes' Unit…for any police officer, for that matter. Things were finally settling down with Jim, their partnership at all levels working well…he couldn't make such a decision without consulting Jim, and he wasn't at all sure how his friend would react.

Eli watched him struggle with the request. He'd known he was asking a lot, but he trusted Blair implicitly do lead the trip with professional competence, even brilliance. He was also honest enough with himself to know that he was almost grateful for the heart attack, for the chance it gave him to offer Blair a return to the world he'd prepared almost half his life for, and for which he was so eminently suited…however brief that return might be, it was a possible beginning, something that might lead, someday, to more.

Finally, Blair looked back up at his old friend. "You know I have to talk to Jim…"

"I know, son," Eli assured him. "Look, I'll tell the Chairman of the Anthropology Department, Dan Moriarity, that I've asked you to do this. If you find you can agree, give him a call tomorrow. If you can't, well, he'll just have to call the whole thing off. If you do decide to do this for me, Sarah has all my notes in the folder on the expedition on my desk at home."

Sandburg wished they weren't working against such a tight time frame. He'd've liked to give Eli his decision before his operation, but his friend was going into surgery in the morning. God, how he wished he could just say 'yes', to alleviate his mentor's anxiety about the tour and its possible cancellation.

But, he couldn't. This decision didn't only concern him. "Okay," he agreed. "I promise, I'll call Dan tomorrow, one way or the other."

"Thank you, Blair," Eli replied, smiling softly. "I appreciate the fact that you'll even consider it."

"Oh, geez, Eli," Sandburg protested at the gratitude in the older man's voice. "You know I'd love to do this for you, that I wish I could just say 'yes'…you never ask me for anything, man."

Smiling more broadly to reassure his young, intense and very sincere friend, Eli soothed Blair's sense of guilt at having to even hesitate, and maybe having to refuse, as he murmured, "Blair…I understand. I really do. You have other responsibilities. I know you'll do what you can…and I know that you have to balance the demands made on your heart."

"Thanks, Eli," Sandburg replied, looking down and away. "I sometimes think you're the only one who does understand."

Sarah came in then, distracting them. Blair rose to hug her tightly and give her a gentle kiss on the brow, before standing back to make room by the bed. They visited a while, and then Blair moved to the bed to give Eli a hug before taking his leave. "I'll be sending good vibes your way in the morning, Eli…" he said.

"Don't you worry about me, lad," Eli assured him, patting his back. "I'm going to be just fine."

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

Jim had taken off work as early as he could that afternoon, to get home and see how the visit with Eli Stoddard had gone. Though he didn't know the man at all well, Ellison did know how important the older man was in Sandburg's life. In a way he'd never expressed to anyone, he was grateful to the old professor for the support, and the love, he had given to Sandburg through all the years the kid had been at Rainier. In some respects, he thought of Eli Stoddard as someone who'd taken care of Blair, looked out for him and valued him, before Ellison had had a chance to meet the young man and discover how amazing he was… and had learned to value Sandburg beyond any other being in his life. Brilliant, certainly unconventional, immensely strong and achingly vulnerable, all at the same time. Ellison figured he had a debt owing to Eli Stoddard, a debt of the heart and one he wasn't likely ever to have the chance to repay. But, the most important thing was to know the older man was going to be fine, that his health and well-being would be no cause for worry or grief for Sandburg.

Pulling up outside the apartment building, Ellison noted that Blair's car was in its parking slot. Heading into the building, he automatically attuned his hearing for Sandburg's heartbeat, to get an early indication of how things had gone. The familiar pulse was steady and strong, though a bit slow. Scenting the trace of vanilla and lavender as he climbed the stairs, he deduced that Sandburg was probably meditating, not expecting him this early, so the candles were still burning. Quietly opening the door to the loft, he smiled a little to himself when he found his deductions proven to be correct. Blair was sitting on the couch, in the lotus position, a half ring of melting candles flickering on the coffee table in front of him.

Jim busied himself with the preparation of a stirfry, quietly cutting vegetables on the kitchen counter, patiently waiting for his friend to return to a conscious awareness of his environment. Monitoring Blair's heart rate and breathing, he could tell when, about a half hour later, Sandburg began to bring himself back. Still, he waited, giving Blair the space to speak when he was ready.

It was a moment more before Sandburg became aware of the small sounds behind him and turned, smiling when he saw Jim in the kitchen. "Hey, man," he called softly, "you're home early." Turning, he blew out the candles and moved to open the balcony door to air out the lingering scents.

"I was anxious to hear how Eli is doing…and to see how you are, Chief," Jim replied. Even just a few short months before, he'd not have been so open about his care and concern, but he and Sandburg had traveled a long way in that span of time. Ellison was learning to be more open, having finally learned to trust his friend and Guide without question.

Moving into the kitchen to help with dinner, Blair shrugged a little and Jim could see he was preoccupied, concerned about something. "He is going to be alright, isn't he, Chief?" Ellison asked, pausing in the act of chopping up a head of cauliflower as he focused his attention fully on Sandburg.

His hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, Blair nodded as he replied, "Yeah, I think so. His surgery is in the morning, and he seems resigned to doing what he has to do for the next few months of recuperation. He's working on a book, and this will give him the chance to concentrate on it…so he won't think all that time taking care of himself is somehow wasted." Sandburg shook his head with a fond expression of exasperation on his face, but then that look faded, to one more pensive and uncertain.

"Then, what's bothering you, Chief?" Ellison probed.

Swallowing, Blair's eyes came up to meet his with a wide, sincere, open gaze. "Eli has asked me to lead a field trip scheduled to start this weekend…it's a small expedition, more a preliminary site inspection than anything major, but it could still last up to a month."

Jim stilled, his eyes falling away as he swallowed. Looking back up, he asked, "What did you tell him?"

Sighing, Blair shifted to lean against the counter. "I told him that I needed to talk to you about it before I could make any kind of decision. Eli…well, you know Eli understands about us, about Sentinels and Guides."

Nodding, Jim went back to separating the little white clumps. "What do you want to do, Sandburg?" he asked, his voice neutral. But all the time that he worked, concentrating on keeping his hands steady, he heard the echoes in his mind… "Do you trust me with my life? Trust me to make my own decisions, my own choices…and respect those choices even though you might have chosen differently for me?" Blair's voice, demanding to be heard, months ago now, in the jungle…months ago, when he'd last been terrified that he'd driven Blair away, knowing in doing so that he might well have lost the best friend he'd ever hope to have. And, then, the harder question… "Do you trust me enough to let me go off alone, knowing I will always come back to you so long as I live?" Ellison had vowed that, yes, he trusted Blair that much, finally, trusted that much. Pushing the memories away, Jim concentrated on listening to what his best friend wanted to do.

Crossing his arms, Blair said quietly, "I'd…I'd like to go. It's the first time Eli has ever asked anything of me, man…and I owe him so much. But, I'm not even sure I could get the leave of absence from work. And, well, ever since we've begun, we've not been apart for such a long time. I don't like to leave you. So," he sighed, "I'm basically stuck between wanting to be two people…do you know anyone who could clone me before the weekend?"

Ellison snorted softly at that, resisting the urge to tease. As if the being that Blair Sandburg was could ever be replicated. But, that wasn't the issue here. The issue was making it clear that he would support Sandburg's decision, whatever it was, regardless of whether it was what he would want or not. He'd vowed he could do this…and he would. Once again setting the knife down to turn and face his friend, Jim said, "I think the leave can be handled. Some of it might be without pay, since you don't have enough vacation time accumulated yet…but Simon would support it, if that's what you wanted. And, as for me…I can't say I relish the idea of you being away, or of having to manage on my own for a month, but it's just a month, not a year. I've been doing pretty well with what you've taught me over the years…and I had to manage on my own at work while you were at the Academy…so I think we could risk the separation."

Blair stood with his head down a moment, listening to the tones as much as the words themselves, thinking about what he was hearing. Jim wasn't dancing for joy at the idea, but he was willing to support it if that's what he wanted. And that was a big deal, in some ways, a very big deal. Blair could hear no hint of hurt or incipient feelings of rejection or abandonment…but he did hear concern about him and what he wanted. It was also significant that Jim hadn't asked where he'd be going, if he went, trusting him to make his own decisions on his path…trusting him to come back again.

Smiling softly, his eyes warm with gratitude and love when he looked back up at his Sentinel, Blair nodded. "Thanks, Jim…I really appreciate your support on this."

Ellison smiled gently in return as he reached out to grip his Guide's shoulder. "I promised you, Sandburg, that I would let you choose our path, and that I would support you. I meant it. So…where will you be going?" he asked then, knowing the decision was already made and striving to retain his air of calm and acceptance, hoping it wasn't somewhere in one of the many unstable and dangerous places on this earth.

Blair's smile brightened into a teasing grin. "Moorea," he said, his brows rising impishly.

"Moorea? In the South Pacific?" Jim repeated, a look of astonishment on his face. "Moorea, as in French Polynesia, about eighteen miles off-shore of Tahiti…the original Bali Hai, Moorea?"

"Yep, that's the place," Blair couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"All expenses paid?" Jim continued. When Blair nodded, Ellison shook his head in mock disbelief, "And they'll likely pay you something for leading this little expedition into deepest, darkest, paradise?"

"I assume so," Blair agreed, his eyes dancing.

Jim snorted and shook his head. "Some guys have all the luck," he muttered. "And you were seriously even considering not going?" he exclaimed then. "You need your head examined! By all means, go, have fun…just don't brag about all the beautiful island women and the soft tropical nights when you get back home…okay?"

"Deal," Sandburg agreed laughing, feeling as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders. "Wanna come carry my bags for me?" he teased.

"Just what kind of 'expedition' is this, Chief?" Jim asked, as if the thought was more than a little tempting.

"A recent earthquake and landslide in the mountains has revealed an ancient temple, at least two or three thousand years old, and there are rumours that some artifacts look like they may have come from north-western Europe, the Scandinavian area…you know, Viking in nature…if so, this would be an amazing discovery and rewrite history as we know it," Blair replied in one breath, his eyes glowing with excitement. "I mean, right now, we think the first Europeans in the area sailed with Captain Cook…it would be mind-blowing to think the early Vikings traveled that far, man. Anyway, the trip is to conduct a preliminary assessment in advance of a major study."

Ellison smiled indulgently at the enthusiasm he could see lighting Sandburg's face…but the idea of mucking about an old temple in mosquito infested mountains didn't appeal to him much…now, if the kid had been planning to study the modern expression of the ancient Polynesian culture, necessitating getting to know some of those lovely women on the shores of one of the turquoise lagoons…well, that would have been a different proposition. Shaking his head, he went back to the vegetables as he replied, "Thanks, anyway, sounds interesting, but I think I'll pass. You go and have a good time. Why don't you call Simon to confirm he'd have no problems with the leave…and then you can let Eli know you'll sacrifice yourself on his altar of academia. I'm sure he'll be able to relax better if he's not worried about this."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair replied softly, meaning it. There were times, not so long ago, when his roommate wouldn't have been so supportive or understanding of his desire, even of his need, to do this. Turning, he pulled the phone off the wall and punched in Simon's number. Though his superior wasn't thrilled by the idea of him being gone for a month, he agreed…and reacted much as Jim had when he heard the location of the site to be studied. Snickering even as he thanked his boss for his support, Blair called University Hospital and asked for Eli's room.

"Hi, Eli?" he said, when the phone was answered.

"Blair?" his mentor replied, sounding a bit surprised. He hadn't expected an answer so soon. Hopefully, he was going to get the one he wanted.

"Yeah, it's me," Sandburg confirmed. Looking up at his Sentinel, smiling warmly, happiness glowing in his eyes, he continued, "About what we talked about earlier? The field trip?"

"Yes?" Eli replied, unable to quell the note of hope that had risen in his voice.

"I've talked to Jim, and my boss, Simon Banks, and well, yeah…I can do this for you, Eli," Blair reported, delight in his voice.

"Oh, that's wonderful news, son," Eli sighed, relieved, grateful and very pleased. "I've been worried about the trip, and hated the idea of having to cancel it. You'll do brilliantly, I know you will, and I can rest easy knowing you'll be in charge. Thank you, Blair…I really do appreciate this, more than you know."

Laughing, Blair shook his head. "No, thank you, for giving me this chance. It's exciting, Eli, it really is. And…as Jim has pointed out to me, Moorea isn't exactly too hard to take by itself, let alone with the prospect of what this new site may have to offer. I'll talk to Sarah tomorrow, and get your notes and file."

"She's right here," Eli replied warmly, and Blair could hear the smile on his face. "I'll tell her that you'll be calling and to get the papers ready for you."

"Good, thanks," Blair nodded, unconsciously. "Now, you get a good sleep tonight…and be good while I'm away. Do what the doctors and Sarah tell you to do. I'll be expecting a full report on your progress when I get back with my report for you. Okay?"

"Absolutely, son…absolutely!" Eli replied, the old note of enthusiasm back in his voice. This was very important to him, not only with respect to ensuring the planned field trip would proceed, but because it brought Blair back into the field of anthropology, if only for a short while. If the site proved authentic, as the first scientist to publish a report, Blair's name would forever be associated with it…and who knew where that might lead someday?

Eli Stoddard had had many goals in life, and still did. One of them was to leave the legacy of a brilliant scholar to follow the paths of knowledge and understanding he had helped to forge, to take up where he would eventually leave off, when his own steps finally faltered for good. He'd taught all he knew to Blair, had shared whatever wisdom was in his heart and soul, and he knew Blair had greatness within him…Eli would do all he could to allow that greatness to emerge as it should. As he hung up the telephone and turned to his wife with a triumphant smile, he felt no trace of guilt for his small manipulation…there were, of course, others he could have asked, and who would have jumped at such an opportunity. After all, he'd once warned Blair that he'd fight his protégé's decision to give up anthropology, because the field needed him.

Sarah smiled back, shaking her head a little, but not with any disagreement, only in reflection at how her husband always seemed to get his way, to achieve what he most wanted, even turning something like this, a heart attack, to advantage. But, she, too, was very pleased at the idea of Blair engaged again in anthropological pursuits, glad to think he might someday follow in her husband's footsteps as the son of their hearts.

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

Blair turned and waved back at Jim a final time before heading into the boarding area. It had been a mad scramble to prepare at the last minute, to get his gear organized and read up on the project, not to mention clearing everything with the Chairman, Dan Moriarity, who had the lovely chore of informing the Chancellor, and meeting with each of the ten grad students who would be going on the expedition. But, he'd gotten it all done, it was Saturday night, and he was off, first to Los Angeles and from there on Air New Zealand to Papeete, and then the short inter-island hop to Moorea. In twelve hours, he'd be in paradise…in more ways than one. His face was bright with the excitement of the adventure, eyes dancing, and his smile as he looked back at his friend was incandescent with unadulterated joy.

Jim smiled back as he waved, then stood with arms crossed as he watched Sandburg disappear with his bevy of grad students through security. Sighing, he acknowledged to himself that he'd miss Blair for the next month, miss him a lot, but he was glad he'd supported this decision. One look at Sandburg's face would have stilled any doubts he might have had that this was a good thing…and the kid deserved a month in the lush tropical wonderland of the South Pacific. Playing around with moldy old artifacts might not be Ellison's idea of a good time, and he couldn't really get excited about the historical and cultural implications of the work Blair was going to be doing, but he was glad his best friend and Guide would be happy doing it.

Shaking his head, vaguely amused that Sandburg found such esoteric things interesting, he turned and ambled from the airport back to his truck in the parking lot. Yeah, he'd miss the kid. But, it was only a month and then Einstein would be back where he belonged.

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

By the time the flight landed at the small airport in Moorea, Blair and his students were wired with excitement, unable to sleep during the flight as they imagined the glories of being the first study team to visit what promised to be an extraordinary site. They might very well be on the verge of truly ground-breaking, even earth-shaking, discoveries that would shed entirely new light on the ancient Viking culture as well as provide endless hours of speculation and study about how their intrusion into the Pacific had impacted on the cultures there. For decades, scholars had reflected on some of the similarities of construction and design between the ocean going vessels of two essentially primitive peoples, wondering if it was simply the dynamics of sailing the seas over great distances that had led two disparate social groups to similar results, or if, perhaps, something as yet unknown and truly awe-inspiring had been at play. If the Vikings had indeed sailed so far, one had to admire their intrepid quest for new lands and knowledge, their courage and tenacity and the grandeur of their vision of the world as a place that could be explored dauntlessly in tiny craft over almost unimaginable distances.

They met their local contact by the baggage return carrousel, and then piled into two vans to be taken up into the mountains, to the end of the road. From there, they would hike the rest of the way into the site.

As they drove along the island's ring road, caught between the incredible beauty of the lagoons created by coral reefs, and the majesty of the ancient volcanic mountains rising inland, they all drank in the exotic scents of plumeria and white ginger, delicate and beautiful flowers that grew wild. On they went, past the luxurious palms that stood as lush sentinels around the grounds of fabulous resorts, and then through small villages with their prettily painted churches. They skirted around the lower reaches of three of the island's extinct volcanoes, heading to the one known as Bali Hai, itself. Thickly garbed with the green of the tropical rainforest, rising majestically into the clear morning sky, it was breathtaking in its beauty. The whole place was magical and none of them could quite believe they were there.

Once they left the air-conditioned vans and loaded up with their packs, the hot, humid air seemed to cling to them, but none of them minded. It was all too amazing, too exciting…too much of everything good and they were young, strong, eager for what lay ahead.

The drivers of the vans in which they had been transported from the airport, leaned against the front of one of the vehicles and watched them head up the narrow, heavily forested path, smiling until the last of the Americans was out of sight. But, once alone, their expressions flattened and hardened. One spit on the ground as he muttered, "Rich Americans."

"Hmm," murmured the other. Both were relative newcomers to French Polynesia, having ostensibly emigrated from their homeland in the Middle East. Brothers, united by blood, history, culture and mission, they were part of a network of men and women scattered throughout the world. "They are People of the Book," he observed, but his tone was wry, verging on being disparaging.

"They are infidels!" the other snapped, disgusted. "Rich, spoiled, capitalists, filthy and immoral. The women were flaunting themselves with those clothes, their bodies and faces uncovered and indecent. The men are weak and undisciplined."

Nodding in agreement, not quite so evidently emotional, colder and more calculating, Ahmed, the older of the two, thought for a moment in silence, his jaw tight, his brow furrowed. They'd been in Moorea for months, considering possible targets for the next demonstration of righteousness, for the next attack against the hated Americans and all of their allies. It was time to strike another blow to the pride and the sense of security Americans, in their arrogance, wore like a cloak. Initially, their cell had been considering bombing one of the rich resorts…but, perhaps, these Americans would present a different kind of opportunity. One that would strike out at their temples of knowledge, the places where they learned to question the ancient truths as if they were open to doubt or debate. In addition, he thought more cynically, the young were always desirable targets, their deaths somehow a special horror.

Nodding again, Ahmed turned to get into his van. "Come, Mohammed, we need to talk with the others. There are plans to make."

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

When Jim woke the next morning, he felt uneasy and then realized it was because he couldn't hear Sandburg's heartbeat. Shaking his head, he yawned, stretched, and then rose to face the new day. Puttering around in the kitchen, he made himself a pot of coffee, listening to the silence, chagrined to find himself lonely already. The kid hadn't been gone twenty-four hours yet. Pouring a cup, he wandered over to gaze out of the balcony doors at his city toward the sea beyond and sighed. The idea that Sandburg was so many thousands of miles away was…disconcerting.

Turning, he looked around his home and felt the lack of energy, the absence of vitality, with which Sandburg filled it. Rubbing the back of his neck, he tried to remember when he'd preferred it this way. Quiet, isolated…alone. That had been a long time ago, years; and now, he could scarcely understand the man he'd been, the man who had guarded his privacy at any price, who avoided friendship, seeing it as an entanglement and complication he didn't need in his life. Who had avoided love, because it might one day cause pain. Cold and remote, unapproachable. Oh, he could still be those things, could still project an aura that said, 'Back off', or 'Beware', but it wasn't all he was anymore, not by a long shot.

Sandburg had changed him in profound and fundamental ways, and he knew it to the depths of his soul. Like the way the light and warmth of the sun drove away the darkness and chill of the night. Like the way hope illuminated despair. Love healing loneliness and confusion, making the lost, found. Ellison wished, sometimes, that he could be more articulate about the way he felt about things, about life and those who meant the most to him. But, too often, the words got tangled in his throat, mangled somehow, and came out wrong, if they came out at all. So he tried to show how he felt, with actions, sometimes with touch. For a long, long time, he'd never tried, never cared enough to try, to express those so intimate and personal emotions. Afraid of being hurt, afraid of rejection or betrayal. And, then, when he'd wanted to try, he'd discovered he really didn't know how, didn't know what to say, or how to bridge the gulf he'd created between himself and others in his world.

Sandburg had bridged the gulf for him. Had leapt across, climbed the walls and battered down the gates of the citadel of his heart. Had stormed his soul and captured it. Bringing the comfort of strategies to tame and harness his senses, bringing real, physical relief in the place of pain and the terror of being out of control. But, those had only been the opening salvos in Sandburg's arsenal. He brought humour to combat surliness and ease tension and anger. He'd brought wisdom and patience to attack fear and unthinking reactions of resistance and rejection. For all of his pacifist ways, he brought staunch courage and resilience to face down and endure truly horrific experiences. His integrity was unassailable, his dignity quiet but resolute. He'd brought brilliance and insight, awareness and understanding…and hope. With unwavering determination and resolution, he'd stood by his friend and Sentinel, even when it had cost him all that he was…his life, both physically and intellectually. Bit by bit, hour by hour, day by day, months into years, he'd persisted, never letting go, never giving up. Because Sandburg believed the senses were a gift and, more, he believed in the greatness that resided in Jim Ellison's soul…a greatness Jim could never quite see for himself and still had trouble believing in. But, Sandburg saw it, every day, and in seeing it, gave strength and purpose like a gift, simple and stark, unvarnished, but irresistible.

Beyond all of that, Sandburg had brought Ellison unconditional love. No matter what, despite the miserable bastard he'd sometimes been, Sandburg had never given up on him and could not be driven away. For a long time, Jim had doubted, resisted, unable to accept what he'd never known before, unable for too long to even recognize it for what it was. The grace one spirit gives another to be itself, to be loved simply for itself, with a deep and abiding intensity that was unswerving and unquenchable. The final acceptance of such incredible, boundless and immense love had been shattering for a man who had prided himself on standing alone. Shattering…then, it had filled him so that he actually ached with it, and then it had given him a peace he could have never dreamed possible.

Swallowing the lump in his throat at the sheer absence of all that, of all that Sandburg was and meant to him, Ellison took a deep breath, and then another. It was so difficult, so very difficult, to concede control, to recognize Sandburg's vulnerability, the way he left himself so open to everyone and everything in life, with absolutely no sense of self-preservation…and to allow him the right to make all his own choices, to take risks with his heart and life. God, the first time Ellison had held back, had let him fly on that damned undercover assignment, he'd almost lost Sandburg…it had been too damned close. But, Sandburg had promised him always to come back, so long as he held life within him, he would always come back to his Sentinel…to his friend. It was his belief in Sandburg, in his word, and in his abiding love, that had made his support of this separation possible.

That, and the fact, when it came right down to it, that Sandburg was going to a small, remote and very safe place, far away from the ugliness and danger that reigned supreme in so many places in the world. If Jim hadn't believed, ultimately, that his best friend and Guide would be safe, he would have taken leave himself to go with Sandburg, to follow where his Guide led. Even so, this separation was hard. Very hard.

"Get a grip, Ellison," he muttered to himself, taking another sip from the mug in his hand. "Sandburg's probably having the time of his life…it's Moorea, for God's sake. What could possibly happen to him in Moorea?"

Smiling at his propensity to worry and with no little chagrin at how much he was missing his roommate, Ellison straightened his shoulders and moved with more purpose across the room, rinsing his mug and the coffee pot, and then heading upstairs to change. It was a good time to hit the gym and he felt like he needed a workout.

Moorea, he thought again with an indulgent smile as he headed out the door into the drizzle of the gray Sunday. Sandburg will be in his glory…fun in the sun, mucking about with potshards and flirting with the gorgeous locals. The month will be great, no doubt about it. He'll be having so much fun he won't have a moment to spare to even notice the time passing…and he'll be home again before I know it.

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

It took two hours to climb up the side of the mountain, along a path that sloped steeply in many places, requiring the travelers to grab onto the trees along the way to haul themselves upward. Though they'd been awake for more than twenty-four hours, they were young and strong, the exhilaration of their adventure fueling a seemingly limitless supply of energy. From time to time, they'd come upon an open spot that would give them a clear vista down to the island below, the glimmering lagoons, and the endless Pacific beyond. The lagoons were dappled with shades of turquoise to indigo, indicating the shallows and depths respectively, edged with gleaming white sand beaches rimmed with arcing palms. The ocean stretched out before them, immense and beautiful, until it merged with the sky. They were on the opposite side of the island from Tahiti and so could not see the nearby island with its own mountainous center. Exotic sweet and pungent scents mingled together and hung about them in the humid air, still except when they reached those open spaces and the breezes from the sea could refresh them, drying the sweat from their skin. Flowers and blossoms bloomed amongst the lush greenery, white, and pink, yellow and crimson, with splashes of blue and orange. Birds called from the branches above them, with foreign voices and melodies. At one point, they edged around a spectacular waterfall that dropped from hundreds of feet above in a straight current of water to the coastal lowlands, the mist cool as it lingered in the air.

Sandburg drank it all in, thrilled to his soles to actually be leading an expedition, even if it was just a one-time thing. He couldn't wait to get to the site itself, to see with his own eyes what was waiting for them there. The few pictures Eli had had in the file were intriguing, but pictures could be faked. But, soon, he'd be holding in his own two hands objects that others before him had held with an ancient reverence and respect for the mystery and majesty of the unknown and unknowable. The cultures of the South Pacific had never gotten the attention they deserved. Too often the gruesome stories of head-hunters, or the sensuous attractions of the different, subtle but very meaningful versions of what the uninformed thought of the 'hula', overshadowed the depth and richness of a people who had set out to cross incredible distances on what could be an unforgiving ocean, with little else but the stars, their quest for exploration and their faith to guide them. People used to the small distances of Europe, or even of the United States, could not truly comprehend the hugeness of the Pacific, and few even realized it covered fully half of the earth. To defy its power, to master it, with little more than an over-sized canoe was an astonishing and humbling concept.

As they neared the site, Blair found himself thinking of the two most important men in his life, men who had, in their own ways, made it possible for him to be here. No fool, Sandburg knew he was only treading this ground because of Eli. The possible significance of the site had resulted in the world's best authority on the cultures of the South Pacific being invited to conduct the initial exploration and assessment of the artifacts…and that, without any doubt, was Dr. Eli Stoddard. A man who had only recently achieved his doctorate, and was still under a heavy cloud of censure by the university that had granted it, without tenure anywhere, not even a professor on the faculty anywhere, could never have hoped to have such an opportunity in the normal course of events. Eli had given him this…trusted him with an unbelievable opportunity.

And Jim. Had there been any trace of reluctance on Jim's part to his acceptance of this project, Blair knew he would have turned it down. Oh, he'd like to think he'd have pushed the boundaries, making the point that it was the Guide who determined the path, but he knew there was no way he would have done so. No way on this earth that he would have risked pushing Jim too far, too fast. The last time Jim had had to let him go, against all of his instincts, indeed had even supported the undercover assignment because Jim knew that was what his best friend and Guide had to do, Blair had very nearly been killed. But Jim had held onto the vow he'd made in the jungle months ago despite the anxiety Blair realized it had to have cost his best friend. For that, he was tremendously grateful. He was just glad he'd been able to tell Jim the destination was Moorea…a safe, secure location where the biggest threat would be getting burned by the tropical sun. He'd sensed as soon as he'd confessed the location of the site that Jim had relaxed and let his protective instincts subside…and that was the moment that Blair had known that he could leave with an easy heart.

As they neared the end of the steep trail, Blair's thoughts refocused on the 'here and now', all of his attention directed toward his first reactions to the site. Rounding a rocky defile of landslide refuse, the path now treacherous and very narrow, he concentrated on not looking down, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat. Keeping his eyes on the path, and on the way ahead around the curve, he finally glimpsed their final destination and he couldn't restrain a surge of jubilation.

The vegetation and centuries of rubble that had grown up and around the ancient temple had been stripped away by the landslide caused by the earthquake scant weeks before. Now, before them, built into the stone of the cliff wall, was a temple of chiseled rock, fully two hundred feet high and what at first glance looked to be one hundred feet wide. Sculpted steps rose to the oval, porticoed, entrance and there was evidence still of the elaborate stonework, reminiscent of the tattooing still applied today amongst some of the Polynesian peoples, precious stone inlays and frescoes adorning the façade. Though rocky rubble cluttered the plateau at the foot of the temple, it did not take away from its stunning magnificence.

Blair blew out a sigh, consciously reining in his excitement as he examined the façade and architectural design, comparing and contrasting it in his mind with other examples scattered across the islands of the South Pacific. The symbolism of the external designs represented those concepts the ancients had held as sacred: life and growth, energy and courage, strength and honour, nature and the stars, the bounty of the land and the sea. 'So far, so good,' he thought with a critically analytical eye. If this edifice was a fraud, it was an extensive and expensive one.

He could sense, and hear, the rising excitement of the grad students coming along behind him on the trail. As soon as they had all gathered on the relatively flat, narrow plateau before the temple, he began to ask them to report their observations, and the deductions they drew from the evidence of their eyes and the knowledge of their studies to date. He ensured that notes and photographs were taken of these early assessments for the report they would be preparing on this expedition.

As they each reported their initial observations, he studied them, smiling softly. They were his team and he was really looking forward to working with each and every one of them. They were a mixed lot in more ways than one. David a tall blond who hailed from Minnesota. Equally tall, Natasha was almost regal in her bearing, her glossy brown hair cut short, and she spoke with a slight Russian accent. Without question, the smallest members of the group were Mina, from Jordan and of Muslim heritage, with big, soulful brown eyes and the most incredible mane of black hair, and Tumi, tiny and delicate, an exchange student from Japan, her cap of short, straight black hair making her look like a pixie. Mike was a compact man with medium-long, straight brown hair, with the athletic build of a swimmer. Linda had red hair and freckles…and seemed to be perpetually smiling. Marco was second generation Italian, with a dark Mediterranean complexion and black, curly hair. Shaun and Leo were their 'mountain men', tall and well muscled, former members of the Varsity football team. Jake was from the hills of Tennessee, with a soft drawl and long honey coloured hair that he kept tied back when he was working.

"Okay," he cautioned as they prepared to enter the edifice for the first time, "Look but don't touch anything. Who has the infrared camera…Shaun, good. That's the only one to be used until we assess the environment inside and the risk of flash photography to the artifacts. Leave your packs outside and your hands free. We have no idea, really, of how stable the interior will be, and there may be some need for climbing. After our first look, we'll set up camp, over there," he pointed to the north where he could hear a stream, confirming the reported access to fresh water.

Once everyone had ditched their packs, he grinned at them. "Remember, we're not tourists here to gape. We're scientists, here to evaluate the possibilities of this site for further study. Look with a critical eye. We're specifically looking for evidence of any inconsistencies, anything which would indicate this site is a hoax, as much as we are here to catalogue the possible wealth of subjects for future analysis and study. You all know there are rumours that certain artifacts reminiscent of Viking traditions and belongings have been found here. David, you and Natasha, as well as you, Mina and Tumi, are our experts on the Viking society. Matt, Leo, Jake and Linda are our South Pacific experts. Shaun, the photography is your area of responsibility and Marco, you have the pen for sketches. We all are responsible for keeping notes of our observations…and don't forget to use your minirecorders to capture your impressions as they arise for later transcription…and don't lose the tapes! Okay…everybody ready?"

There was an enthusiastic chorus in the affirmative that made Blair and their guide, Pierre, laugh. "Alright, then," Blair indicated with a wave as he turned toward the entrance, "let's go."

They climbed the eroding steps with care, clicking on flashlights as they entered the darkness within. Pausing just inside the entrance, Blair quickly evaluated the safety and the security of the interior before progressing further. The beam of his light caught magnificent and huge sculptures of symbolic figures, the gods and their animal counterparts. Cracking pillars still supported a lofty, arced ceiling of stone high above, and what appeared to be three separate levels connected by stone steps…the one they were on, the sacrificial altar above and the gathering place for the people below. Another series of steps led down past the lower level, but disappeared into a pool of water that reflected the light of his artificial torch. There were all manner of objects scattered around the stone floors, with some still hanging precariously on the walls, various pottery and what looked like metallic vessels and plaques…and the interior walls were even more richly adorned with art than those outside. It was a treasure house of as yet inconceivable knowledge and beauty.

Cautiously, he made his way forward, testing the floor and steps for stability, but it all appeared to have been hewn from the rock itself, solid and eternal. "Okay, we'll split up and explore independently for the next thirty minutes and regroup here to compare first impressions. Take note of any particular artifacts you want to bring outside to study in the light later, but, again, don't touch or remove anything until it is catalogued and Shaun and Marco have both had a chance to register the on-site location," he directed, waving them forward.

They scattered eagerly, the various cultural experts splitting up so that someone from each group would be part of the exploration of the three levels. Blair and Shaun moved out together, heading first to the level above, so that they could work their way down in a coherent way, Shaun capturing all the angles on film. Marco stayed by the doorway, dropping to sit cross-legged as he opened his sketchbook and pulled a pen from his pocket, remaining in the light of the entrance to illuminate the first sketches of the interior.

The echoes of their hushed whispers and the occasional unrestrained cry of surprise and wonder, bounced around the stone interior, indicating the acoustics were superb. One member of each team of cultural experts held a minor in archeology to enable assessment of the structure itself, as well as of the artifacts. Though scientific tests would eventually be required to authenticate age, the expertise they each held could be relied upon to determine the likelihood of the authenticity of what they were seeing, and to guesstimate relative age.

It was an excited group that gathered together again half an hour later. So far as they could tell at first glance, they had something truly amazing here. A wealth of artifacts that had not been disturbed in thousands of years, many in almost pristine condition…and enough to lend credence to the speculation that Vikings had, indeed, ventured this far from their homelands.

Nodding as he took in their preliminary observations, Blair concurred with their initial assessments. They could all scarcely contain their excitement and enthusiasm, himself included. When the last comment had been offered, he grinned at them as he commended them on their observations. But, judging that they all had a need to distance themselves, to obtain some objectivity and perspective, he handed out the next taskings. "Good, very good…better than that actually," he concluded his commendation before continuing, "brilliant and no less than I expected. But, before we do anything further in here, we need to set up the camp." There was a round of groans and protests, but he remained firm. "Uh, uh, no further work in here until we have our base of operations secured. Darkness comes early this close to the equator and we don't want to be caught off-guard. Besides, it's time for lunch." Waving his hands gently, he herded them back out into the light and they set about pitching the tents, obtaining water from the stream and testing it for purity and breaking out their rations.

He wasn't surprised when the energy levels fell as they settled into the camp and completed their mid-day meal. They'd all gone without sleep for too long and the dissipation of energy generated by unsustainable excitement can be sharp. "Let's all get some rest for the next couple of hours," he suggested. "When we're refreshed, we can decide on how we will approach the detailed assessment of the site. Discussion and planning for the rest of the day and this evening, and we'll go back inside tomorrow."

Wearily, they agreed as each sought out their sleeping spaces in the mesh tents, the solid flaps raised to allow air circulation, and plopped down to sleep. Blair thanked their local guide for having shown them to the site and watched as the man disappeared back down the trail. Before he turned in, Blair utilized the satellite radio to check in with the Dan Moriarity's office, to give the first sense of what they had found, and was unable to contain his excitement, though he hoped he sounded suitably 'professorial'. Next, he called Jim to briefly report in and assure his roommate that all was going extraordinarily well, but he stopped himself when even he could recognize he was beginning to babble from the adrenaline high. Given that there was only three hours difference in their respective time zones, Blair confirmed that he'd call briefly each evening around nine Cascade time to check on his friend and report on his own status.

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

The next morning, they rigged up the generator that had been provided at the site and ran lines and lights into the interior of the temple to better illuminate their examination and assessment of the marvels of the past. For two days, they worked with good discipline and professional expertise, studying, cataloguing and recording their findings. Spirits were high as confidence in the authenticity of what they were assessing rose and their enthusiasm for the extraordinary good fortune of being the first academics on site knew no bounds.

Much to his delight, Blair found himself thoroughly enjoying the experience of leading the diverse team that Eli had assembled. On first glance, they seemed so different, having diverse educational backgrounds and interests, and coming from different cultures and parts of the world. Some might have thought such an eclectic group of people would have difficulty finding common ground, but Eli had chosen well. Each and every member of the team brought a rigorous discipline, and a passionate desire to search out new truths, or new perspectives to better understand what was already known. They had an engaging enthusiasm, an eagerness for the tasks set out, and to share their respective expertise, to learn from one another. And, their energy was awesome. Added to that, each of the students brought personal qualities they held in common, such as a sense of humour, and some that were different, but complimentary, such as some enjoying the cooking and camp maintenance activities while others poured themselves into the meticulous work of recording their findings in an overall inventory. Finally, they all had a strong work ethic, and though the unseen beaches and lagoons below might be appealing, none complained that there was no time for such indulgences.

All in all, it was a really great group, and Blair marveled again at the insights that Eli had into people, what made them tick, and how they'd mesh together as a whole. The man was brilliant in more than his academic specialty…he was an astute observer and judge of people as well. Grinning wryly, Blair figured he probably shouldn't be surprised, because what was anthropology after all, but the study of human social behaviours and cultures.

On the third day, toward the end of the afternoon, all hell broke loose.

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

Blair, Shaun and Marco were ambling out of the temple, their attention fully engaged in their discussion about how to best capture the physical evidence and perspective between the photos and the sketches. They briefly discussed how to work the photographs and illustrations into the final report, as part of the body or as referenced appendices. It made a difference in terms of the details each expert captured and they'd need to align their work directly with the observations being made by the others.

As they came out into the sunlight, Blair's gaze wandered the area as he listened to the comments of the other two young men…and he froze, lifting a hand to both silence the others and to still their forward movement. Mina and Linda had gone outside a few minutes earlier to examine the markings of a clay plaque in natural light and they now sat frozen, expressions of abject terror on their faces as they stared with shocked horror at the men with the guns who surrounded the campsite.

"Stay here, and if you get a chance, slip back inside," Blair murmured, then moved forward, his hands in the air as he descended the half dozen steps to the narrow plateau, drawing their attention onto himself and away from the other young men. "What's going on?" he demanded, though not aggressively. After all, the other guys had the guns.

"Tell everyone to come outside," one of the marauders commanded, turning the muzzle of his automatic rifle on Blair, a flare of hatred in his eyes. This was Sandburg…the Jew.

Swallowing, Sandburg prevaricated quickly. "What you see is what you get…"

His remark was cut off as a line of bullets mowed into the ground at his feet, making the girls scream and him jump back about a foot. "There are eleven of you," the man growled again.

His eyes narrowing as his gaze first studied the man quickly then shifted to take in the others, Blair thought the guy looked familiar and so did another one. "I know there are eleven of us," he retorted. "But I sent the others down the mountain to the village below just after lunch, three to purchase more supplies, one to fax in a preliminary report, one to see a doctor because she wasn't feeling well and the last one to go with her." It wasn't true…the others were all still inside the temple, and Blair devoutly hoped they'd stay there, out of sight. "They aren't due back until tomorrow," he added for good measure.

While he'd been talking, he'd been gradually edging his way closer to the girls who were at a work table about five feet from the bottom of the steps. "You kids all right?" he asked, trying to maintain a sense of calm, trying to remember he was in charge here and didn't dare let his own fear show.

Linda was white as a sheet and Mina had silent tears slipping down her cheeks, but both nodded stiffly, wordlessly.

"Good," Blair said. "Try to stay calm." Turning back to the man who was evidently in charge, he asked again, "Who are you and what do you want?"

"We are Warriors of the Prophet, and we are here to take you hostage," Ahmed replied, his voice cold, his eyes empty.

Blair's heart clenched as he recognized the name of the international group of loosely aligned fundamentalist Muslim terrorists. This was definitely not good. Swallowing, he nodded then blew out a breath. "Okay…then I presume, as hostages, you need us alive and in good condition."

"We don't need all of you," Ahmed replied with cruel truth, the look of contempt in his eyes clearly indicating that he recognized Sandburg, and knew him to be a Jew. "Remember that and do not resist us."

"Hard for us to resist when you guys have the guns," Blair replied, swallowing at the ugly look in the man's eyes, wondering why he sensed such a personal animosity. It wasn't that the terrorist knew who he was…or that he was Jewish, was it? How could he know? "What happens next?" he asked, setting his own, more personal, questions aside.

One of the men, enraged and offended by the skimpy attire of the girls, who were dressed in halter tops and shorts in deference to the heat and humidity, stepped forward to grab Mina by the arm and drag her to her feet. "First, the sluts clothe themselves properly," he snarled, hauling off to smack her across the face.

It was a mistake.

He'd gotten too close to someone trained as a police officer.

With an astonishing economy of motion, Blair moved with lightning speed to disable and disarm the brute, yelling to the girls to run into the temple even as he turned to spray bullets around the clearing, causing the unprepared and surprised terrorists to lunge for cover. Though he'd only intended to make them back off, when some started shooting back, at the girls especially as they raced up the steps, Blair raised his weapon to return their fire. Continuing the defensive action, pushing back the horror and disgust he felt when he knew he'd hit more than earth or trees, he quickly backed up the short flight of steps and leapt into the safety of the stone temple behind the others. As he reached the safe haven, the bullets were raining around him and he yelled as one bullet grazed his side and another penetrated his right thigh.

"Get back and down," he screamed as he whipped around, falling to the ground and leveling his own gun back at the moving targets outside. Not having any idea of how much ammunition was in the weapon, he made each shot count, both blessing and cursing his hard-earned marksmanship expertise. Three more of the terrorists hit the ground, two screaming, one already dead, before the others retreated out of his line of fire. Along with the three he'd hit on the way in, that made six down and what at a rapid count he estimated as ten or a dozen remaining, to be held off as long as he could.

Silence settled over the plateau for a long moment, then Ahmed called out, "Either surrender now or we will kill all of you."

"No way," Blair called back, his voice hoarse from fear and pain. "You can't use dead hostages. How about we stay in here and you stay out there and you make whatever calls or arrangements you need to set up negotiations with whomever you're trying to intimidate into doing what you want. If you try to over-run us, I swear, I will kill you. As you've seen, I hit what I aim at."

Ahmed cursed sharply as he waved his men to him. This was not supposed to have happened. Who would have known that a pathetic long-haired freak of American sloth and indulgence knew anything about self-defence, let alone be what was obviously a marksmen with a weapon. So far, six of his men were down with no evident casualties on the other side. He snorted in disgust at the poor showing his men had made, their lack of discipline when surprised…the fact that they'd been surprised at all…and their inability to take command of a handful of defenceless students.

Inside the temple, Blair could hear the murmur of voices in what sounded like a Middle Eastern language, but he couldn't hear it well enough to make it out. He was no expert in those languages, but he had some rudimentary knowledge, enough to gain some general understanding of what they were after if he could only hear them. David and Jake were pressed against the wall near to his position. "Can either of you make out what they're saying?" he murmured.

"No," David whispered back.

"Uh, uh," Jake muttered.

They both looked absolutely terrified.

Consciously steadying his breathing, Blair whispered back, "Jake, ask Mina to come and listen…she'll understand the language better than I do, and then get the rest organized…find jars, bowls or urns to fill with water from the pool below, as much as you can. We don't know how long we'll be in here. Sooner or later, they'll kill the lights and leave us in the dark. Find out who has torches with them and if any are carrying any food…pool what you find for common sharing." As Jake moved off to do as he was directed, Blair flicked a glance at David. "I've been hit, my side and my leg. I don't think the gash along my ribs is serious, but we need to stop the bleeding from my leg," he said, trying to sound a whole lot calmer than he felt. "Tear your shirt into strips and wrap a couple tightly around my right thigh, as a kind of tourniquet. Once Jake has some water, let's see if we can clean the wound up a bit and bandage it."

"How bad are you hurt?" David asked, appalled as his eyes drifted to take in the blood pulsing from the wound in Blair's leg.

"Not bad so long as we can contain my blood loss," Blair informed him, swallowing against the pain and the dizziness of the shock that was setting in. "I have to stay as alert as possible to keep them at bay. I'll need water as soon as you can get me some."

"Okay," David murmured, already ripping his cotton shirt into strips. With a grunt, Blair shifted a little in order to allow David to help him without being exposed to the terrorists outside. Nauseated by the blood pouring from the wound, David hurriedly wrapped the strips around Blair's thigh above the bullet hole and tied them together.

"Tighter," Blair grated through the pain, blinking away the sweat and tears that burned in his eyes.

Gulping, David did as he was bid, tightening the improvised tourniquet until the flow of blood slowed and finally stopped.

Breathing out a long, slow breath, Blair nodded and murmured hoarsely, "Thanks. We'll need to loosen it every ten minutes until it finally clots." Otherwise, the lack of blood flow to the rest of his leg would kill the flesh…and he'd lose the leg. Trembling, he wondered if such a future eventuality was really any kind of concern. They'd be lucky to get out of this mess alive. "Go see how Jake and the others are doing. Make sure they know to stay out of the line of fire through the entrance," he directed quietly.

Mina had joined him by then, but the terrorists were talking too softly for her to make out their words. She sat stiffly, with her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around them. She kept giving Blair sideways looks, and seemed about to speak a couple of times, but then hesitated.

"What is it, Mina?" Blair asked, recognizing her desire to talk, to help her past the hesitation.

She rolled her eyes and blinked hard, trying to control the mixture of emotions that filled her chest. Shaking her head, she murmured, "I'm Muslim."

"I know," Blair replied, a look of confusion on his face for a moment, and then he began to understand. "You're afraid of them, of them judging you…"

"You saw that man grab me and hit me," she whispered, her lips trembling. "If they find out I'm Muslim, it will be even worse…because…because they would expect me to adhere to their interpretations of what is right…and what is not."

"Hey, easy, Mina," Blair reassured her softly. "I'm going to do all I can to make sure they don't get close to any of us again."

She looked away for a moment as she nodded, trying to hold onto a belief that they might all survive this. Then, biting her lip, she looked back at him, a look of gratitude in her eyes. "I appreciate the fact that you trust me to listen to them and tell you what they are saying. Some people might not be so trusting…"

"Ah, Mina," Blair sighed as he shook his head sadly. "What, you think because you share the same faith and heritage that I might not trust you as much as I trust any of the other kids? People of the Muslim faith and culture are not all terrorists, I know that. God, only a very small minority are terrorists and fanatics. Just like any other faith has fanatics…look at all the White Supremacists in America…all Americans aren't like them. You're part of this team, Mina…of course I trust you."

"I know," she said then, and smiled softly. But, she still shivered with fear and Blair figured that being so close to the men outside, listening to the murmur of their voices, wasn't helping her any.

He waited a few minutes, but when it was clear that the men outside were going to continue to be cautious about being overheard, he said, "I don't think they're going to talk loud enough for us to hear them anyway. Why don't you go back and help the others gather water and pool our food supplies. If they get any louder, I'll call you back."

Grateful to be able to put space between herself and the terrifying men outside, she nodded quickly and scooted away to the farther reaches of the temple.

Left alone, sprawled on the ground, the rifle cradled in his arms, Blair pushed his hair back from his face and grimaced at the sharp stab of pain the movement caused him. His heart was pounding a mile a minute and he had to fight to slow and steady his breathing, to push back the nausea that threatened. There was no time to panic, no time to indulge his own emotions of terrible fear and a soul-aching despair at having taken lives in so few seconds, scarcely with thought, just with a desperate desire to keep his charges safe. Biting his lip, he found himself silently cursing the fates who had woven this tapestry of terror…and he found himself wishing with all his heart that Jim was here, to take charge, to do what had to be done to keep the others safe. Because Blair just didn't know if he had what it took to get them all out of here in one piece.

And that thought terrified him more than had any other experience of his life.

Grimly, he kept watch on the area of ground he could see from his position just inside the entry. Swallowing the bile in the back of his throat, he told himself over and over that he could do this, he could kill again…if that's what was needed to keep the kids safe.

A small voice in the back of his mind asked with bitter reflection why he'd ever felt he could safely leave his Sentinel behind.

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

Over the past two days, Ahmed had had the necessary research done and knew exactly who the members of the academic team were and where they had come from. Moving to the satellite radio, he called the University, barking at the secretary who answered to put the Chairman of Anthropology on the line before he killed the whole team. Startled, horrified, the young woman had raced into Dan Moriarity's office and cried to him to take the call, explaining what she'd just been told. In turn, before lifting the line, he directed her to call the Police Commissioner. Dan had no idea if this call was 'for real', but if it was, he didn't have the first clue as to what to do…but he suspected, hoped, the Commissioner would know what action was required, who to contact about a situation going down thousands of miles away in a foreign country.

Ahmed was ready with his demands. Though his original, simpler idea had been to simply kill them all, the discussions over the past two days with his confederates had led to a different, more profitable idea. They were a small group, poor, and they needed funds for weapons and other needs. So, they'd decided to bargain for the lives of the Americans. He wanted a million dollars for the lives of each of his hostages and he wanted the Americans to release their own 'hostages'…those individuals who had been jailed for terrorist threats and activities in the United States. He told the Chairman that they had two days to comply with the delivery of funds at the site in Moorea, and the release of the political prisoners…or he'd kill all of the hostages.

Cutting off the connection before Moriarity could reply, Ahmed then called CNN. He wanted publicity, wanted the world to know what was happening on this remote mountain…wanted the infidels to know they weren't safe anywhere on this earth.

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

Simon's hand trembled as he set the phone receiver back down. He felt sick and had to take a couple of deep calming breaths before he could move. Dear God, he thought numbly, what are the odds…

But, he didn't consciously know if he was wondering about the odds of such a terrible thing happening in the first place or the odds of getting any of those innocents out alive. The Commissioner was going to immediately call the Governor and the State Department, to inform them of the 'situation' involving American citizens…there was little more that he could do. Moorea was a long way outside of his jurisdiction.

But, Commissioner Evans had called Simon first, in courtesy, knowing one of Simon's team was out there, was at grave risk.

Closing his eyes to whisper a quick prayer, Simon blew out another steadying breath and then moved to the door of his office. "Jim," he called quietly. "Would you step in here for a moment. There's something I need to tell you."

Puzzled by the tone of Simon's voice and the expression on his superior, and friend's, face, Ellison felt a sudden shaft of alarm, but couldn't imagine what would make Simon look so…devastated. Rising, he entered Banks' office, sitting down as Simon closed the door softly and then turned to face him.

Taking a seat beside Jim, Simon laid a steadying hand on Ellison's shoulder. "The Commissioner just called me," he began, looking away, wishing there were some easy way to say this, but there wasn't. "The Chairman of the Anthropology Faculty at Rainier just received a call…"

Jim paled as he demanded, "What's happened to Sandburg?"

"The Chairman, Dr. Daniel Moriarity, received a call," Simon started again, "from someone identifying themselves as a member of the Warriors of the Prophet. They've taken control of the site in Moorea and are holding Blair and his team hostage. They want eleven million dollars and the release of about twenty known terrorists from prison or they claim they will kill every member of the team. Jim…I can't say how sorry…"

Ellison's face had gone utterly blank, the look in his eyes dazed as he tried to make sense of what Simon had just said. Terrorists? In Moorea? Threatening to kill…

Trembling, the detective said, his voice thick with sudden fear, "How do we know they're all still alive?"

"We don't, not yet," Simon replied. "The Commissioner is handing this to the State Department. They'll know how to respond…no doubt the military…"

"Jesus," Jim whispered tightly, trying to control the emotions that raged within him. Fear, horror…rage. Blinking, he looked away, holding up a hand to still Simon's words. He needed to think, needed to decide what to do. "I have to get out there…" he said, his voice flat.

Shaking his head, Simon tried to remonstrate with him, tried to be sensible. "No…there's nothing you can do. We have no jurisdiction, you know that. Jim…there's nothing you can do…"

"Damn it, Simon!" Ellison exploded, surging to his feet to pace like a caged tiger. "I can't just sit here…I can't not know…not do something…" he choked out. Swallowing, he turned again to face his superior. "The ransom…who's going to pay the ransom? How is it to be paid?"

Again, Simon shook his head. "Jim, you know the drill…there's no bargaining with terrorists."

"The hell with that!" Ellison shouted. Oh, in theory, he agreed. Paying a ransom only encouraged similar events. But…the memories of hostages on an elevator and an explosion filled his mind and his chest with remembered sick horror. When it came down to it, when someone you loved was involved, you paid…it was the only hope you had of their survival. "I want to know what's going on, Simon…I want to know what's going down." Turning, he headed toward the door.

Standing, blocking Ellison, Simon grabbed his friend by the upper arms. "Ellison, settle down!" he ordered. "You won't do Sandburg any good by tearing off like raging bull! Where do think you're going, anyway? What in hell do you think you can do about this?"

It took all he had not to throw Simon out of his way. Shaking with the effort at control, Jim grated, "I'm going to the university to talk to this Chairman Moriarity and find out what Rainier is going do about raising the ransom. While I do that, I'd like you to contact State and find out who's on this 'event', and get all the information you possibly can. After that, I promise, I will talk to you before I do anything else. But," he continued, his voice a guttural growl, "I swear that I'm going out there myself…whether or not anyone agrees or approves. I'm going after him, Simon. If he's alive, I'm going to bring him back."

Or die trying, Banks thought miserably, but he nodded and moved out of Ellison's way. If not for Daryl, he'd be going with him.

Jim had just wrenched the door open when Joel filled the space, sick anxiety on his face. "Jim...Simon… there's a news bulletin running on CNN and the local radio and television channels. Blair and his team…is it true?" he asked, his voice thick with fear.

Looking away, his jaw tight, Jim nodded, "So far as we know." Then, returning his gaze to Joel, he asked, "What are they saying on the news?"

"That the Warriors of the Prophet are demanding a ransom of eleven million be delivered to them at the site within two days, and that a list of terrorists be released from prison, or they will kill the whole academic team," Joel reported, looking from Jim to Simon and back again. Blair and those poor kids were so far away…and might even now be dead. He hadn't felt so helpless since that terrible night when his son had died.

"Delivered to them…" Jim repeated thoughtfully. Nodding with grim resolution, he knew he had just been handed his invitation to the party.

His thoughts were interrupted when he was called to his phone. Impatient to be gone, not really even paying attention to the call, Ellison was surprised to hear his father's voice as the older man jumped right in, his voice tense with anxiety, but firm with determination.

"Jimmy, my God, I've just seen the news report," William Ellison stated. "I had no idea Blair had taken on this assignment for the University. This must be hitting you pretty hard, son."

"Yeah, you could say that," Jim replied, taking a breath. He really didn't have time for his father right now.

But, before he could terminate the call, William continued, "I just wanted you to know…if there's any trouble about raising the ransom, any trouble at all, you call me, you hear? I'll do what's necessary to put it together for you."

Jim wheeled away from the view of the others in the bullpen, turning to the wall as his hand covered his mouth in shocked surprise. For a moment he couldn't speak, too moved by his father's offer to find the words. William Ellison was a very wealthy man, but eleven million dollars in cash was a stretch, even for him. The fact that he'd moved immediately to make the offer was overwhelming. Taking a breath, wiping his eyes, Jim stammered, "Thanks, Dad…you don't know how much that means to me. I'm heading over to the University now. If there's a problem, I'll call you. I…I don't know what to say…"

"There's nothing you need to say, Jimmy," William replied quietly, hearing the emotion in his son's voice. "I just wanted you to know that I'm here, if you need me. But…I won't keep you now. I know there're a lot of things you need to be doing to arrange to get Blair and his team back."

"Thanks, Dad," Jim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he terminated the call.

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

Darkness had fallen about an hour before and Blair had them kill the lights inside the temple, wondering why the terrorists hadn't cut off their power supply. And then he remembered that the generator also powered the satellite phone. He was shivering with the beginnings of a fever and understood that infection was setting into his leg. The constant throb of agony from his wounds was exhausting and he was light-headed from the loss of blood. He'd done his best to restore the fluids he'd lost by drinking the cool water that had been pulled from the pool in the bottom of the temple, but his weakness worried him greatly. Not for his own sake, but because he knew he was all that stood between the kids and the terrorists outside.

He found himself wondering if Jim knew what was happening. Certainly, at a minimum, his friend would be only too aware that Blair had failed to make the regular evening call to check in, and would be worried. But, the fact that the satellite phone had not buzzed let him know that there had been no incoming calls, either, which argued that Jim did know…otherwise, he'd have called to find out what was going on. His Sentinel wasn't known for his patience and wouldn't have waited more than half an hour before checking on why Sandburg's regular call had been delayed.

God, Blair thought, miserable at the thought of what Jim must be enduring right now, so far away, so helpless to intervene. I'm sorry… he offered in silent apology, wondering if he'd ever see his best friend again.

"You okay?" Shaun asked quietly, moving up beside him. They'd cleaned and bandaged his wound sometime before, and, thankfully, the blood flow had finally stopped so that Blair was no longer worried about bleeding to death.

"Honestly?" Blair whispered back, trying for a reassuring grin and not quite making it. "Not really," he admitted, knowing he couldn't stand vigil all night, that he needed to get some rest. "Do any of you know how to shoot a rifle?" he asked, hating to share this burden, knowing that anyone who held the weapon might well be forced to kill.

"No," Shaun admitted, explaining, "we were talking earlier while sorting the supplies about how lucky we all are that you're with us. The training you got as a cop is about the only thing we've got going for us. You were amazing out there, man…I couldn't believe how fast you moved…how you got the girls to safety and held them off…"

"Yeah," Blair whispered, his throat dry, a stark look in his eyes as he turned his face away to again stare into the night, watching for any kind of movement. He was glad he was capable of protecting the others, at least for now…but sick that he'd been forced to kill to do it. "Look…I've got to get some rest," he said, striving for calm. "I need you and one of the other guys up here with me to watch and listen…you see anything…you hear anything…you wake me immediately and take off to the back of the temple. Okay?"

Shaun nodded as he went to get Leo to join him at the entrance. The two of them might be serious academics now, but they'd both been linebackers as undergrads. If Blair thought they'd leave him to fend off an attack by the terrorists by himself, Shaun thought grimly, he was in for a surprise.

In moments, the younger men were back, Leo edging forward on his stomach to lie in the darkness beside Blair so that he could look out into the night, Shaun sitting against the wall directly beside the entrance, his head cocked to listen.

"Okay, man, we're with you," Leo murmured, resting a hand for a moment on Blair's shoulder. "You go ahead and try to get some sleep while you can."

"Thanks," Sandburg murmured back. For the first time in hours, he let himself relax and felt unconsciousness tug at him. For a moment, he resisted, afraid that if he relaxed, they might not be able to wake him if the terrorists started closing in. But, he couldn't hold out much longer…he needed sleep badly. Swallowing, he directed, "Make sure you all take turns, spelling each other every half hour or so…and, if they start talking again, call Mina to see if she can understand what they are saying…"

His voice drifted off as he succumbed to exhaustion, his head dropping onto one arm, his grip on the rifle loosening.

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

Jim didn't leave the University that evening until he'd won the agreement of Chancellor Edwards to pay the ransom and to allow him to deliver it. The confrontation between them hadn't been a happy one. At one point, when she dared murmur that this was somehow all that fool Sandburg's fault, she found herself looking into the predatory eyes of a very angry man, who was literally being held back physically from shaking her by the black Police Captain. Simon harshly told her that no one could be responsible for the actions of terrorists and that his man, Sandburg, was as much a victim as the others…and, if anything, she should be damned glad they had someone as capable as he was looking out for the kids.

She wasn't happy about it, not any of it, the ransom especially would be a huge burden for the University. When she dithered about it, Jim cut in impatiently, his anger barely in check, "Look, if it's too much to expect the University to do all it can to bring its own team back safely, then just say so. My father, William Ellison, is willing to put the ransom together personally, if need be, out of his own concern about the welfare of the victims."

Simon gaped at him, the Commissioner turned steely eyes upon her while the other authorities waited silently for her response. Swallowing, Chancellor Edwards realized she looked a fool. How could the University allow a private citizen to act because she had failed to make the appropriate decision? She wasn't about to face the media and parental condemnation if the institution failed to do all in its power to win the freedom of its students.

"That won't be necessary, though I appreciate your father's willingness to help," she replied stiffly. "I'll make the arrangements for the ransom to be paid." She had wondered when William Ellison had challenged the University's decision to expel Sandburg, if he was a relative of the infamous James Ellison, described as a Sentinel in the disastrous paper that had garnered so much media attention and created so much embarrassment. Well, now she knew. It seemed this family would go to any lengths to support Blair Sandburg…and she wondered why. When her look of challenge changed to speculation as she stared at Jim, he held her gaze, silently daring her to draw her own conclusions.

Shrugging, she turned away. There were other, more urgent, demands upon her attention. "Alright," she said briskly, "now that that's settled, how will the ransom be delivered?"

"I'll take it," Jim stated in a voice that brooked no argument.

Before the government officials or the military could object, she nodded. "Fine," she agreed.

While she didn't much care for Detective Ellison, and that was putting it mildly, she didn't have any better ideas about who should make the delivery. There would be few who would be willing to walk into a situation they probably had little if any chance of walking out of…after all, when all was said and done, there were no guarantees that the terrorists wouldn't just take the money and kill everyone anyway.

Conversations flowed between the representatives of State and the Joint Staff of the Armed Forces and the University. Not to mention the Cascade Police who wouldn't back out of their 'interested party' status, having been drawn into the 'incident' by the University in the first place, and having one of their own already on site. The federal officials weren't happy about the involvement of the local police, but given Ellison was the only one the University would consider as the middleman, and Sandburg was literally in the middle of the mess, there was no choice but to deal.

It was finally determined that the money could be gathered together by close of business the following day and a military aircraft would transport Ellison to Moorea. Given his Covert Ops background, and his military record of achievement, the brass felt they were at least sending in someone who had some marginal chance of pulling this off. Negotiations had been rapidly undertaken with the French government, winning their approval of a fast American military deployment into Moorea to secure the population from further incidents and to attempt to contain the terrorists once the hostages were released. An elite group of the Special Forces would be meeting Ellison when he arrived in Moorea to work out the details of their support of the hostage exchange.

As for the release of the terrorists in American prisons, the Attorney General was being less cooperative. The idea was out of the question. However, a hasty strategy was being developed to mislead the terrorists in Moorea by providing false information to the media about release plans. No one had any qualms about lying to the terrorists and all only hoped that they could pull the scam off…and no one but the President, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary of State and the Attorney General and his staff knew it was a scam…oh, and the wardens of the penitentiaries involved, and the staff in each institution who knew prisoners whose names were on the published list, not to mention the prisoners themselves, who would be held incommunicado until it was all over. Too many people, too much chance for a leak…but it was the best they could do.

Finally, it had been determined that Ellison would sit in on the call the Chairman of Anthropology would make the next morning to the terrorists to confirm arrangements were in progress. They'd identify who would be delivering the ransom money and when to expect him…and would demand evidence that the hostages were still alive before proceeding further.

Simon and the Commissioner had gone to the University to back Ellison up in the negotiations with the Chancellor and the representatives of the national authorities. Once it seemed they'd accomplished all they could that night, and the time of the call was confirmed with Moriarity, the police officers left, Simon following Jim home.

Both men were silent as they entered the apartment building and took the elevator to the third floor. Once inside the loft, Jim moved to the refrigerator and pulled out two beers, waving Simon toward the living room. Handing Simon his bottle, Ellison sank down on the chair opposite from the couch where Simon was sitting.

"How are you holding up, Jim?" Simon asked softly, worry lining his face.

Shrugging, Jim took a long swallow. Lowering the bottle, he shook his head. "I just keep telling myself he's alive and I'll get him out of there in one piece," he finally muttered, looking away into the night beyond the balcony doors.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Banks asked. He'd thought about it long and hard, thought about how Blair and Jim had come after them in Peru, when he and Daryl had been taken by a ruthless gang who'd been forcing native labourers to manufacture narcotics for illegal distribution and sale worldwide. Much as he felt the weight of responsibility to his son, he also knew he couldn't do less…couldn't fail to support Blair, to try to rescue him, now that he was the one at such terrible risk.

Ellison thought about it for a long moment. His initial inclination was to refuse. Simon was a family man. But, then, he thought about how best to maximize the chances for Sandburg and the others. Jim had learned enough over the years to know his senses could go wonky on him when he was under considerable emotional strain. He might well need Simon's back up. Slowly, he nodded as he turned back to his old friend. "Yes, I would appreciate that, Simon…I really would," he replied quietly, swallowing hard, so afraid that no matter what they did, they might not be able to get Blair out of there.

Nodding solemnly, Banks replied, "Okay, then." He paused a moment, looking around the loft then back at Ellison. "You want me to stay tonight?"

"No," Jim replied, shaking his head as he lifted the bottle for another swallow. "Thanks…I'll be okay on my own."

"I know you're scared, Jim…I know how much the kid means to you" Simon rumbled, his voice low as he looked away, blinking against the burn in his own eyes. "We're all scared…we all want him, all of them, back, safe."

"I know," Jim sighed, rubbing his eyes, wishing he could still the trembling of his hands. "I know…."

Later, after Simon had left, Ellison stood a moment at the closed door, his palms and forehead pressed against the wood panel, and then he sighed and turned to gaze around the apartment. Everywhere he looked, he could see traces of Sandburg's presence. The masks on the wall. The candles on the coffee table and the bookshelf. The afghan that had a permanent place on the back of the sofa because Blair so often felt the chill of the evenings. He could smell Blair's presence all around him…the herbal teas in the cupboard, the fragrances of candles and incense from his room and he closed his eyes, drinking it in. Swallowing, sniffing, he rubbed his face and turned out the lights, then moved to sprawl on the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him, his head resting on the back, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil.

He'd thought Moorea so safe…he'd been wrong. Nowhere was safe.

He should have gone with Sandburg.

He'd never thought anything like this could happen. He should have known better, gone anyway.

Once again, he'd failed to protect his Guide and his best friend. Failed to be where he was needed.

Ellison shuddered with his guilt and his sense of helpless despair. Leaning forward, he propped his elbows on his thighs and his face in his hands. "I'll get you back, Chief," he vowed. "I swear to God…I'll get you back…or they'll bury me right beside you."

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

The plateau outside was gray with the first early light of dawn when Blair woke up with a start and a muttered moan.

"You okay, Blair?" Tumi, the tiny woman of Japanese descent asked with evident deep concern as she touched his shoulder gently.

Swallowing against the nausea that roiled in his gut, squinting against the headache that raged in his skull, Blair lifted his head and nodded a little as he shifted his gaze from her back to the plateau beyond the entrance way. He was surprised that it was dawn…grateful they'd gotten through the night with no further incidents. Shifting his gaze again, he noted that Natasha was at the listening post. "How're you guys doing?" he asked softly.

"Scared," Natasha replied bluntly, but she gave him a wan smile.

"Terrified," Tumi confirmed, but she gave Blair's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Do you want some water, or something to eat…we've got a few granola bars, three bananas, two apples and an O'Henry bar between us."

Blair grinned at them, pleased by their resilience and courage. He'd been blessed with a first-class team. "Water would be good," he murmured back, "thanks."

Tumi eased back and away, returning moments later with a small clay pot of cool water.

As Blair passed the empty vessel back to her, he noted that Matt had eased forward.

"Blair," the student began, "we've been thinking and talking about possibilities…."

"Oh yeah?" Sandburg encouraged as he continued to study the ground in front of him, watching for any sign of movement. "I'm all for possibilities, man."

"Well…we know the odds are probably not good," the grad student continued, his face pale but resolute.

God, they're brave, Blair thought, so desperately sorry that these kids were at such lethal risk.

"Anyway…Linda and I have been talking, and well…most of our references on these temples in the texts and journals indicate that there were usually two entrances…one for the religious leaders and another for the population as a whole. We thought we'd spend today trying to find any sign of a second entrance to this temple…maybe, maybe some of us at least could sneak out the back way…"

Matt's voice drifted off and he looked away. All of them knew enough that someone would have to stay back, for a while at least, to cover their escape, even if they could find an alternative exit…and they all knew that person was Blair.

But Blair turned to him with a blinding smile and eyes shining with hope for the first time since disaster had struck. "That's great! Now that you mention it, I remember Eli telling me something about that once. Brief the others on what to look for and get busy, man!"

But, as Matt turned to move away, Blair realized that he couldn't afford to have all of them looking for the way out. His fever was worse and his vision a little bleary. "Uh…wait," he added, sorry he had to admit that he needed help. He didn't want to scare them anymore than they were already scared, but he couldn't pretend he could handle the lookout duties completely on his own. Failure could well mean all of their lives. "Have someone come back here to keep the watch with me," he asked. "I…I'm a little dizzy and someone needs to ensure I stay alert," he explained further, his tone apologetic.

Matt gave him a long steady look, then nodded as he replied soberly, "Whatever you need, Blair…you're keeping us alive, man, and we know it. You just let us know how we can help, and we'll back you up."

"Thanks, Matt," Blair sighed, sparing the student a quick look of gratitude. "I appreciate it."

The day dragged on, and the kids grew discouraged. They couldn't find any trace of a way out. At one point, Blair had had to ask for help to move to the corner that had been designated as the latrine, Shaun and Leo supporting him while Marco and David kept watch. The kids all knew he was getting sicker, the fever radiated off his skin in waves, his face flushed and his eyes a little glazed, but he didn't complain, only reminded them to watch to ensure he was alert. From time to time, engaged in a common conspiracy of support, they left him alone when he drowsed off, just waving another student up to the entrance to help keep watch for a while, to let him rest.

They were frightened, more than half convinced they were all going to die out here in paradise. But, because of Blair more than anything else, they held it together. His unswerving devotion to standing between them and the killers outside, despite his already serious injuries, his calm and his continued grins of encouragement, gave them a model to emulate. He hadn't given up, so neither would they.

It was sometime after noon when the satellite phone buzzed and Sandburg jerked into a higher state of alertness, straining to hear. Given that the conversation was again in English, as had the telephone demands been the day before, and given that Ahmed was making no effort to keep his voice low, wanting to let his own men know that progress was being made, Blair was relieved to realize he could hear it all.

"Excellent!" Ahmed crowed when the Chairman advised him the demands were being met. He listened as information about Ellison's arrival was relayed to him, nodding and giving his men a wolfish smile, repeating, "Tomorrow by noon. Ellison…yes, I understand." But, he frowned suddenly at the demand that some proof be given that the members of the academic team were still alive. Swallowing a curse, he lowered the phone and shouted toward the Temple, "Your people want to know you're alive and well. If you wish to have any hope of surviving this, you'd better come out and tell them you are still healthy."

Jim had been listening on the other end and found this exchange interesting. The terrorists didn't seem to have perfect control of the members of the team. Frowning, he wondered what that meant.

Blair, having heard Jim's name knew his friend would be listening on the other end of the call. "No way," he shouted as loud as he could. "Hold the phone as close as you can to the temple entrance and I'll yell out that we're fine, so far. I promise I won't shoot you even if I have the chance when you come closer."

Ellison smiled grimly to himself. Somehow, Sandburg was holding them off, had even managed to get his hands on a weapon…the team was inside the temple ruin and the terrorists were outside. This was good news, very good news. There was hope.

Ahmed cautiously approached the entrance of the temple, staying well out of Sandburg's line of fire. "I'm as close as I choose to come," he reported, deeply wanting to swing into the entranceway to blast that foul American Jew into oblivion, but knowing that with the open phone line, the sound of gunfire would only terminate the negotiations.

"Okay," Blair shouted back, fighting to keep his voice as steady and clear as he could. "We're okay, for now. We have water and some food. Everyone's okay so far."

Ahmed pulled back immediately, shouting into the phone, "You have your confirmation…now proceed with the necessary action. Oh, and ensure that a helicopter is left at the foot of the trail up here, in the parking area, for us to use to make our escape."

Blair and Jim, unbeknownst to one another, both shook their heads. These guys were idiots if they thought they had any hope of escaping once the team was clear…and how far did they think they'd get in a helicopter, anyway? They were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, for God's sake! But, then, there were any number of small islands and atolls in relatively close proximity to Moorea, so maybe they had worked out a plan for their own escape. But, both men also assumed that they'd hold onto at least one or more hostages until they believed they were clear…and those hostages were likely to then be killed. Not a happy thought.

Jim, listening intently, frowned with concern. Blair was lying…at least one person was injured. He could tell from the strain in his partner's voice that Sandburg was suffering. Lowering his head, he tried to work it out, tried to imagine what was going on so many thousands of miles away. Sandburg had relayed information without the terrorists knowing it…without anyone knowing but Blair himself that Ellison would be able to pick up his original words. So…he had a gun, the students were safe, and they were in the temple. If anyone else had been injured, Sandburg would have urged a rescue sooner rather than later, so that likely meant he was the only casualty so far. The fact that it was apparent that Sandburg was still in charge, still speaking for the academic team meant he was still able to function, despite whatever injury he'd suffered. Biting his lip, Ellison nodded to Moriarity that he'd heard enough and the call could be terminated with the assurance that a chopper would be made available. That might or might not be true…right now, it didn't matter whether it was or wasn't. The point was to continue to pacify the terrorists, to let them think they held all the cards.

Back in the temple, Blair was both immensely relieved and outright horrified to think Jim was coming with the ransom money. There was no way he wanted his partner anywhere near this mess. But, with a chagrined, soft smile, he knew as well that there would have been no way to keep Jim from coming. From the moment Ellison had learned what was happening on this mountain, it had only been a matter of time before he showed up. Shaking his head, chuckling a little to himself, Sandburg imagined his own personal cavalry riding to the rescue. But, then, his eyes softened with sadness and regret that they were so very far apart…and this might be as close as they'd ever be again. The terrorists were as likely to kill them all and take the money as they were to let any of them leave alive. "Thank you, Jim, for everything," he said softly, clearly, before the connection was broken… knowing only his Sentinel would ever hear his words. "Love ya, man…"

On the other end of the line, Ellison heard the soft, distant murmur of gratitude and grace, and turned his head away as he closed his eyes. Dear God, Chief… he thought, sick with guilt and fear. His gut twisted with the realization of what that last message had meant. Sandburg didn't expect to get out of this alive and was saying 'good-bye' in case he never got another chance. The Sentinel had to take a long, steadying breath, to ease the tension in his chest, and the anguish in his heart. But, then his jaw stiffened. It wasn't over, not yet…there was still a chance. So long as Sandburg was alive, there was always a chance. Don't thank me, Chief…just…just hold on… he thought, knowing in his heart that Sandburg would never just give up, holding onto that knowledge like a lifeline.

Blair swallowed as he heard the connection break, fear mixed with relief that Jim would be coming soon, and then he felt a surge of guilt that almost swamped him…for being the reason that Jim was walking into such danger. But, much as he wished he could be somewhere else, that he'd never had to be part of this, he couldn't wish Eli here instead of himself.

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

After the call to the terrorists, Jim had another task to perform before he returned to the police station, something that would be important to Blair, but that he couldn't do for himself.

As he walked tentatively toward the room, he wasn't sure how to approach this. Did Eli even know what had happened, or had the news been kept from him? Ellison sure didn't want to create stress on a man who had just had heart surgery. But, he'd decided that, in case it all went bad, this wasn't something that could be put off. He could only assess Eli's condition and, if he was too weak, Jim was prepared to see Sarah, to talk with her.

But, when he walked in, he found Eli and Sarah together. She'd wanted to keep the news from her husband, but it had proven to be impossible…a babbling lab tech, not realizing the import of the news to the heart patient, had blurted out the latest information on the hostage situation while drawing blood. At first, Eli hadn't paid close attention, but as the technician droned on, he gradually realized exactly who had been taken hostage…and he very nearly had another heart attack.

As soon as they saw him their eyes brightened with the hope that he'd have some good news, Sarah stood and held out a hand, while Eli asked, his voice a little weak but clear, "Detective Ellison, thank God…what can you tell us about what's going on?"

Jim took Sarah's hand, and then moved to lay his other hand on Eli's shoulder, relieved that he didn't have to be the one to break the news. "We've made arrangements for the ransom, and I'll be delivering it personally tomorrow. So far, everyone's all right. I'll do everything in my power, you know that, to make sure they stay that way, to bring them all out, safe and sound." Ellison saw no reason to worry Eli with his knowledge that Blair had been hurt. Until they knew the details, worrying wouldn't help.

Eli sighed as he looked away, his face etched with anxiety. "I'm so sorry," he murmured. "It's my fault they are all out there…"

"No, Dr. Stoddard," Jim countered immediately. "None of this is your fault or responsibility. No one could anticipate something like this. I wanted to…" his voice caught and he had to clear his throat before continuing, "I wanted to tell you how happy you made Blair when you offered him this opportunity. When they left last Saturday, he was walking on air. Please, don't ever regret that."

Eli's eyes misted, and Jim heard Sarah sniff behind him. His lips trembling, Eli whispered, "I love that boy…like he was my own son…"

"I know that, and so does Blair," Jim replied quietly. "He loves the both of you, too, very much. And, I, well, I've long wanted to thank you, for all you've done for him over the years. He was thrilled when you asked him to go with you to Borneo…and he would have gone, except for…well…"

"I know, Detective," Eli replied, then looked up at Jim with a kind smile. "You mean the world to him, you know that, don't you?"

Jim had to press his lips together, and swallow hard as he blinked away the emotion that had dampened his eyes. Sniffing, he murmured, "Yeah, I know." Taking a breath, he continued, "I know that I might not always have seemed to appreciate him, or what he does for me, what he's given up for me…but I do. Blair is the most important person in my life…I'd do anything to keep him safe."

"Well, the two of you were meant to find one another," Eli replied thoughtfully. "The mysteries of life are sometimes beyond our understanding…we don't always choose the paths that we find ourselves upon, but it's clear to me that your paths were destined to cross."

Sarah touched Jim's arm then as she said, "It's a relief to know that you'll be going to Moorea. If anyone can get Blair, and the others, back safely, it's you."

"I'll do my best, ma'am," Jim assured her, his voice husky with sincerity.

"Thank you, Jim," Eli said then, reaching up to pat Jim's hand, consciously using his first name. "It was kind of you to come to see us before you left…to give us hope that this will end well."

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

It was mid-afternoon when Matt took his next turn standing lookout with Blair. The grad student was frustrated and discouraged. This wasn't a simple shrine, it was a major temple and there should be another exit somewhere. Everything he'd ever studied about the Polynesian culture of the South Pacific argued that there must be another way in and out.

But they'd found nothing.

Biting his lip, frowning with worry as he studied Blair, Matt shook his head. He'd taken several courses from Sandburg over the last few years, every one that he could, actually. Blair was a great teacher…he brought the fun and joy back into learning, his own enthusiasm a beacon of energy that led students onward, drawing them with him, as if on a great adventure. Though Sandburg didn't know it, Matt had been one of the students who'd lobbied the Chancellor after Sandburg had been expelled over the alleged Sentinel dissertation, and the grad student had been quietly satisfied when Blair had finally been awarded the doctorate he deserved.

And, now, the great teacher was standing between them and almost certain death, holding off maybe a dozen terrorists…god, he'd even killed some to protect them. If Matt ever had a hero, and he wasn't prone to idolizing anyone, it would be Blair Sandburg. The guy was the most unique, most brilliant and amazing person Matt had ever known.

Matt hated to see Sandburg shivering with a fever despite the heat that made the presence of infection in his leg only too plain. The sour, sickening odour hanging in the heavy, humid air revealed only too clearly that the wound was going bad. Dried blood stained Blair's shirt, his leg, the flimsy bandage around the wound and the ground beneath him. They all knew Sandburg was having a harder and harder time staying alert, drifting in and out of a kind of daze. But, their team leader just wouldn't give up…he asked them for water, and a couple of times he'd splashed some over himself to dampen the fire of the fever, but the idea of any kind of food clearly nauseated him. He looked haggard and exhausted. And yet, he always found a soft smile for anyone who was nearby. He'd urged them to continue studying the artifacts in the temple, even joking that their four weeks seemed to have diminished to only a few days…and they'd known he was just trying to keep them busy, trying to keep their minds off what was going on. But, as the hope of finding a back way out diminished, they went back to taking pictures, dictating observations into their minirecorders. Blair was right, they had to keep busy or the waiting would drive them crazy. As the hours wore on, he continued to check to see how they were doing, reminding them that help was on the way, that they weren't really alone, that others cared and were coming for them.

But, these were bright kids, and they knew the odds as well as their team leader did.

"Blair," Matt murmured, looking down at Sandburg, "do you really think we'll get out of here?"

Shifting his gaze from the ground outside to his student's eyes, hearing the need for truth in Matt's voice, Blair sighed and shrugged. "Honestly?" he asked. When Matt nodded slowly, Blair's eyes dropped for a moment then came back up with a steady gaze. "I don't know," he answered. "But, it's not hopeless…you can't think that. However they did it back home, the ransom has been raised and it's on its way. These guys," he tilted his head toward the terrorists outside, "they aren't part of a huge, organized, rich terrorist movement. They need the money from this transaction to finance their operation, or they'd have rushed us and killed us long before now. If I were a betting man, I'd give us half decent odds. My partner, and best friend, is on his way. If anyone can get us out of this, it's Jim Ellison. Believe that."

Matt swallowed and let his breath go in a long sigh. Sandburg would never, ever, directly lie to him, not to a straight, serious question. Unexpected tears burned the student's eyes with the relief and the hope Blair gave him that all was not yet lost. It was too soon to give up. Nodding, he reached out to grip Sandburg's shoulder for a moment, and he felt the fever through the thin fabric. "Thanks, man," he murmured, then asked, sincere concern clear in his eyes, "How are you doing?"

His gaze shifting away, moving back into his role as watchman, Blair replied with a steady voice, "Don't worry, Matt… everything will work out the way it should."

Matt squeezed Blair's shoulder, then waved to Tumi to come relieve him. "I'm going to keep looking for the back door," he explained as he moved away.

Blair spared him a quick grin and nodded. "You do that, Matt…we can always make 'half-decent' odds, better."

Matt stood in the center of the temple, his gaze quartering the walls, the ceiling above them, wondering if there'd once been another level…but, no, that wasn't right. The altar was always on the highest platform in these temples. Turning, he looked down the steps toward the pool of water…and then he realized with a sudden flash of insight, 'Of course! The water's probably covering the lower exit!'

Moving down the steps, he securely hooked his waterproof flashlight on his belt and kicked off his sandals.

"What are you doing?" Linda asked, coming down the steps behind him.

He looked up at her over his shoulder. "We both know there has to be another way out. If we haven't found it, it's because we're not looking in the right place. So…I'm going to check out the area under the water."

"Are you crazy?" Linda demanded, keeping her voice low, not wanting to alarm the others. "Do you know how many earthquakes have likely occurred in the past couple of thousand years? If there was another entrance once, that water pretty much suggests it doesn't exit any more."

"Maybe," Matt allowed, "but we all know we're lucky if we have even 50/50 odds of getting out of this alive. We have to consider, and try, every option."

"Matt," she implored, shaking her head, her throat dry. "We don't know what's down there…you could get stuck, trapped…."

"Or I could find another way out," he countered, then smiled up at her, turning to open his arms. They hadn't told any of the others, but they'd gotten 'engaged' just before the field trip had begun and planned to be married at Christmas. He knew she was scared, and he hated to leave her here…but if there was a chance of getting her out of this, not to mention the others, he had to try.

She hugged him tightly, understanding, trying to contain her fear. Taking a breath, blinking hard, she stepped back from his strong embrace and did her best to smile bravely. "Don't keep me in suspense, okay? If you find something, hurry back and let us know."

He touched her cheek tenderly, stroking the freckles with unconscious fondness, as he nodded. "I'll be back as soon as I can…hey, maybe in a minute or two. Who knows how many dives I'll have to make before I find something worth exploring?"

And, then, he turned and followed the steps lower, into the still water, ignoring the chill of it. Taking a deep breath, he disappeared from view.

It took three dives before he found something. The last time he'd come back up, he'd grinned at her and had given her a thumbs-up sign before quickly taking another breath and diving below the dark surface.

But, she had no idea of what he'd found.

Because, that had been half an hour ago…and he hadn't come back up again.

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

Naomi called Simon's office not long after Jim had returned from meeting with Eli and Sarah Stoddard.

"Naomi, where are you?" Simon asked, waving Jim in from the bullpen.

"I'm in Namibia," she replied, the line crackling, making it difficult for him to hear her. "What's happening? A park ranger brought the news to the village. What's Blair doing in Moorea?"

"Just a minute, and I'll put Jim on," Simon replied, handing the phone to Ellison as he murmured, "It's Naomi…she's in Namibia."

Taking a deep breath, Jim took the phone from his boss and proceeded to relay the information as calmly as he could. Part of him wondered if the woman would ever be in an accessible place when Blair needed her, and part of him was glad she was far, far away. Patiently, he calmed her down, and promised they'd keep her informed when she gave him a number they could use. With a sigh, he ended the call and handed the phone back to Simon.

"She isn't coming directly back?" Simon asked, dumbfounded and knowing he probably shouldn't be.

"No, she's a long way from any kind of airport…by the time she could get back here, well, it'll be over, one way or the other," Jim replied, his eyes on the floor and his hands on his hips as he fought to maintain his calm.

"How in hell did Sandburg ever acquire a sense of responsibility with her as his mother?" Simon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ellison shrugged, weary and too worried about Blair to care much about that right at the moment. "I figure he didn't have much choice…" he replied as he turned to head back to his own desk.

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

It was Mina who caught the soft ringing of a cell phone somewhere outside the temple entrance, and when she heard the terrorist leader's voice rise in fury, she shook Blair, who'd again drifted into an uneasy, semi-conscious state.

"Huh, what?" he mumbled, feeling truly dreadful as he tried to focus on the world around him.

"Shh," Mina cautioned, keeping a hand resting on his shoulder, frightened by the heat rising from him in waves. "Someone has called, and the head guy, Ahmed the others call him, sounds royally pissed," she whispered as she strained to make out the words.

Frowning, Blair fought to concentrate, to hear what was going on…but they were speaking in their own language again. There was much rapid, angry shouting, and he could only catch some of the words…and the cursing. "What is he saying?" he asked, frustrated by his lack of understanding.

Mina had paled and started to tremble. Her voice shaking, she replied, "They must have a lookout posted at or near the airport…and they saw US military forces arrive sometime recently."

"Damn it," he murmured hoarsely, his voice weak and raspy. "Probably part of the plan to rescue us…"

She cocked her head, still listening, and he frowned as he struggled to understand the unfamiliar language. Suddenly, she reached out to grab his arm, but before she could bring herself to reveal what she'd heard, Ahmed turned to the satellite phone, calling CNN, to expound furiously in English. "The American dogs are betraying our negotiations," he shouted, enraged. "They have landed a force in Moorea, hoping to take us by surprise. They've failed!" he shrieked. "Tell them, tell them if I see even one soldier, I will bomb the infidel's temple and kill all the hostages! The military pigs are to leave Moorea NOW! I give them one hour!" Furious, he slammed the transmitter down into its cradle.

"Jesus," Blair whispered, his heart sinking as he looked up at Mina and then around over his shoulder back at the others. That was when he became aware that Linda was sobbing in the arms of Natasha and the others were standing around looking like they'd lost their best friend. "What's going on over there?" he muttered, casting a look of inquiry at Mina.

"Bomb? They're going to bomb us?" she whispered, tears in her eyes as she trembled with terror.

"No," he soothed her, "not necessarily. Only if the military doesn't pull back…they'll leave, you'll see. They came to help us, not get us killed." When she took a deep breath, determined to control herself, and nodded, he asked again, "Now…what's wrong with Linda?"

Mina wrung her hands as she looked away. Sighing, she said softly, "It's Matt…he went into the pool to see if there was an exit hidden by the water…and he never came back up."

Blair just stared at her for a long moment, his eyes wide with disbelief, and then numb sorrow. "Ah, no," he sighed, swallowing hard against the emotion that welled within him. Closing his eyes and hanging his head with grief and guilt as he remembered urging Matt to continue looking for another way out, he felt overwhelmed by his sense of responsibility…and his failure to protect someone who was in his care.

The pain in his leg turned into a flame of agony as he forced himself to roll over, reaching to Mina support in standing as he waved to Shaun and Marco to come and stand watch. Slowly, fighting the dizziness and weakness that assailed him, he made his way across the stone-paved floor to the cluster of students. "Linda," he murmured, holding his arms wide. When she turned into his embrace, clinging to him, her hot tears wet against his neck, he held her tightly as he murmured, "God, I'm so sorry…"

"It's been two hours, Blair," she sobbed, her voice breaking with anguish. "He's gone…Matt's gone…."

"Maybe…maybe he's found a way out, and it's just taking him a while to get back," he offered softly, wishing he believed that himself. But, he didn't. His own eyes were wet with the raw sorrow he felt. He'd known Matt for years and knew they had just lost someone very, very special. He wanted to offer comfort, but could think of no words, and he felt hollow inside, empty of any kind of wisdom, perspective or strength. He could only hold her, and share her heart-breaking grief.

Pressing his eyes closed, devastated by his inability to protect their lives, to ensure their safety, he wished to God he knew how to tell them that they might all be dead before another hour had passed. For all his confident assertions to Mina to keep her from panicking, he was in no way certa