Chapter One: Echoes of the Past

The letter arrived on a Thursday. Blair glanced at the return label, briefly noting the Washington, D.C. address, before laying it on the kitchen table for Jim to open when he returned home. It looked official, but what did he know? Could be one of those junk mail schemes. Make an envelope look official, and anyone would be sure to open it.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the refrigerator, Sandburg retreated to the living room and his laptop computer. He had an article due the next morning for consideration for publication in a major journal, and his standing in the kitchen, puzzling over Jim's mail wasn't getting it written. His roommate, partner, and best friend would be home in a couple of hours, and he wanted to make some real progress before dinner. It was Jim's turn in the kitchen, although odds were that he'd bring home take out rather than face the stove.

"What'll it be this time, Ellison?" Blair muttered, settling down on the couch's comfortable cushions with his laptop. "Mexican? No, had that last week. Thai? Too spicy, right? What's left in the Jim Ellison file of epicurean delights? Chinese. That's it. Ten to one, tonight's entree will feature moo goo gai pan, sweet and sour something, and egg rolls." He grinned at the image playing in his mind. Then, turning his attention to the screen in front of him, Blair got down to work.

By the time he looked up again, darkness had fallen outside, and Jim's key was turning in the lock. "Hey, Chief," Jim called out, shoving the door closed with his elbow while balancing a brimming white take out sack with both hands. "I brought Chinese."

Blair grinned, shaking his head in fond amusement. Jim's night to cook often added up to a meal of take out from one of the numerous neighborhood restaurants on or around Prospect Place. But, to give credit where credit was due, the man deserved to take the easy way out on occasion. This night was definitely no exception. After the week Jim had put in at the station, with three nights of stake outs on top of two court appearances, Blair could hardly blame him for not wanting to cook.

"Letter for you on the table. Give me just a couple of minutes here, Jim, and I'll be done." Blair turned his attention back to finishing the paragraph he was writing. In the back of his mind, he was aware of the refrigerator door opening and closing, then the oven being switched on and food being placed inside to keep warm. At last, Jim joined him, a cold beer in his hand.

Sitting beside his friend on the couch, Jim ripped opened the envelope and began to read the letter. After a few minutes of silence from his partner's end of the couch, Blair glanced up from the screen and over at his friend. Jim was staring straight ahead, his face an emotional black hole. It wasn't a zone, but it was damn close.

Immediately, Blair refocused his complete attention on Jim. "Hey, buddy, anything wrong? I saw the letter was from Washington. They're not expecting you to reenlist or anything, are they?" He half chuckled at the image of Jim back in uniform and reporting for duty. "I mean, you've put on a couple of pounds since you last wore the old army green, man. I'm not sure..." He stopped as the total lack of response to his gentle ribbing sank in. Whatever was in that letter, it was serious. Dead serious.

When Jim finally tore his eyes from the letter still clutched tightly in his hands to look at his guide, his voice was hard. "Actually, Sandburg, they are."

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

"Let me get this straight, Jim. The Army wants you to lead a survivalist training mission back into the Peruvian jungle? The place where all your men died, and you yourself were almost killed? With all those highly trained, not to mention active duty, officers to choose from, they have to reach back into the inactive archives and select you?" The stunned disbelief in Blair's voice was shaded by a deeper emotion lying hidden just below the surface.

When his partner merely nodded, Blair plunged on, his incredulous voice rising in volume as he spoke. "I mean, I know you're highly qualified, but c'mon, man! They can't really expect you to just drop everything, put your life on hold, and go running back to the Army! You've got a life here, right? A job. Responsibilities." Blair stood up and paced across the polished wood floor, his socked feet drumming a quiet, nervous staccato. He stopped at the glass door leading outside to the balcony and glared back at Jim. "Besides, you know what they're really interested in, right? They've heard about your sentinel abilities. That's what this is all about, Jim. The Army just wants to see what you can do. Some general somewhere got wind of your abilities, and he wants to see you perform. Hell, they probably consider you their next 'best line of defense'!" The more Blair thought about that prospect, the angrier he became. "You'll just call and say no. Tell them you can't do it. You can say no, right, Jim?"

Although the final question was asked in the same angry tone, there was something different lying concealed just below. That was when the sentinel identified the hidden emotion buried beneath the blustery disbelief and indignation on the surface of Blair's demeanor. That emotion was fear.

Blair was afraid. The rapid thrumming of his heart and his increased respiration confirmed that. But of what? Jim hesitated, his mind furiously working to analyze the situation. What was worrying his friend? Even as he thought about the possibilities, he grasped the simple answer. The same concern that always received top billing on Sandburg's List of Top Ten Fears. Losing his sentinel.

Jim sighed deeply, wishing he didn't have to say the words, then he met Blair's worried blue eyes. "No, Sandburg, I can't say no."

At the first sign of protest from the younger man, Ellison held up a silencing hand, cutting off the objection before it could be verbalized. "For a couple of reasons. First, when I took my discharge, I promised my commander, General Greene, that I'd always be ready and willing to report back to active duty if needed. At least, temporarily. My word's important to me, Chief. You of all people know that." Pausing for a moment, Jim stared deeply into his friend's eyes. "It's my duty. First and foremost, I'm a soldier." He waved away the look of disapproval written all over his friend's face. "Yeah, I know, but even after all these years, that's still how I see myself. That was my first career, Sandburg. When you get right down to it, that was the thing I did best." He leaned forward, staring into the empty fireplace. "Anyway, General Greene wants me on this mission because I'm the most highly qualified man for the job. I've actually done what this unit needs to learn to do. Survive in the jungle. They're the best, Sandburg, the elite, and they deserve the best training this country can provide. And, for this situation, in that place... I'm it. Maybe my sentinel abilities do have something to do with it. Hell, maybe that is what they're really interested in. Even if it is, it really doesn't matter. Can you understand that, Chief?" Lifting his head, he met Sandburg's gaze.

Jim fell silent, his pale blue eyes steadily holding Blair's. There was no question in those eyes, no uncertainty to cloud their depths. Just determination, mixed with the hope that his closest friend could understand his feelings at that moment, could comprehend his deeply felt obligation to respond to this unexpected call into service.

A slow, soft smile etched its way across Blair's features. In his entire life, he had felt genuine awe only rarely. Then, it was usually reserved for some rare academic find. Few people in his life had elicited that strong emotion from him. That handful of rare individuals was headed by James Ellison. The man was amazing. Duty. Honor. Courage. Mere words. Simple syllables, yet with connotations signifying the highest ideals of mankind, and they were all personified before him in the man who was James Ellison. His partner. His friend. His brother. Sometimes the realization of who and what this man truly was defied expression in mere words. This was one of those times.

"So," Blair softly asked. "When do we leave?"

A shadow darkened Jim's eyes. "There is no 'we' this time, Chief. You can't go with me." His voice was firm; there was no room for negotiation.

For a long moment, their eyes remained locked. Neither gaze wavered until the younger man briefly shut his lids, struggling for acceptance and fighting the pain that acceptance would bring. Then, without a word, Blair turned and stepped outside on the balcony, gently closing the door behind him.

Jim Ellison stared at the lonely figure of his guide. Only a thin layer of clear glass separated them, yet somehow at that moment, it seemed as impermeable as solid stone. He wasn't sure how to reach Blair, how to help him understand, but he knew it was necessary to try. He opened the door.

"Sandburg?" When there was no response, he moved to stand directly behind his friend, close enough to feel the warmth from his body, yet maintaining a distance between them. The pain radiating from Sandburg was almost palatable. Ellison kept his voice quiet. He lifted his hands for a moment, as if to clasp the shoulders in front of him, then lowered his arms back to his side. "Blair, please. Don't do this. Don't shut me out. There's just no choice here. This is a military operation, and you're not..."

Bitterly, Sandburg cut him off. "I know, I know. I'm not a soldier. Just like I'm not a cop. Seems I'm always coming up short, aren't I? Never what you need me to be. Maybe I should have taken Simon's offer to go to the Academy. Even after you told the truth about your abilities, I still could have..." His voice faded out, as a shiver shook Blair's frame.

Jim couldn't take his self recrimination any longer. "Blair Sandburg, you listen to me," he growled as his strong hands grasped Blair's shoulders, pulling him around to face him. "Look at me," he demanded. "I said look at me!" With gentle fingers, Jim eased Sandburg's chin upward until their eyes met. "You are exactly what I need you to be. Not a cop. Not a soldier. You. My guide. My Shaman. My partner and my brother and my best friend. Nothing more and nothing less." His blue eyes lost their hint of anger as a look of tenderness took over, and his voice grew husky. "Damn it, Chief. If you don't know what you mean to me by now, then what the hell have the past few years been about, huh? Haven't we learned that much at least?"

Blair's blue eyes filled with frustration, even as his heart filled with gratitude. His voice rose dramatically. "That's just my point, man! I should be there, Jim. My place is with you. I'm your guide, right? What if your senses go out of whack? What if you need me?"

Jim shook his head, then ran his fingers through his short hair as he searched for the words to make his friend understand. How did the kid always seem to know exactly which buttons to push? But, Jim realized, he couldn't afford to give Blair an inch in this discussion. He made an effort to keep his voice reasonable. "I know, Junior, I know. This time, though, it's impossible. I'll be okay. It's just a simple training mission. Two weeks, that's all." He forced a grin and reached out and gripped Blair's neck under the thick curls. "Don't worry, Chief. The worst that will happen might be finding a lizard in my pants."

They both grinned at the memory those words conjured up. Jim was relieved to see the brief, half smile which broke the mask of worry on Blair's face. "I'll be careful with my senses, and I'll remember everything we've worked on. I promise you." He studied the upturned face carefully, waiting for a reaction.

Blair took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "Two weeks, man." He smiled again, this time a full fledged, heart warming, patented Blair Sandburg smile. "Two weeks, and nothing more dangerous than a lizard." He pointed his finger at Jim in a command which was only partly in jest, "I'm holding you to that. You've got two weeks to get your butt back here, or I'm coming after you - Army or no Army."

Jim laughed as relief flooded his soul. "Blair Sandburg versus the United States Army. I know where I'd put my money in that contest, Chief."

His eyes shining, Blair challenged, "And just where would that be?"

Jim tousled the soft curls affectionately. "On you, of course. They wouldn't stand a chance, Conan. Never know what hit 'em." He wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders, pulling him against his side in a one armed hug. "Listen, I gotta get packed. My plane leaves early in the morning. What would you say about eating that Chinese before it gets any older, then, after I throw my things in a bag, we'll go rent a movie? Your choice."

As they headed inside, Blair looked up at Jim, a devilish gleam in his eyes. "My choice? Oh, man, I've got just the thing."

"Hey, Sandburg, none of those foreign things you like so much. No subtitles. No way."

Blair laughed. "You said my choice, Jim. You going back on your word?"

Ellison turned what he hoped was an intimidating glare on his partner, still tucked up against him. "Of course not. Those things you like aren't called 'movies', Sandburg; they're 'films.' I clearly said 'a movie.' So, no foreign 'films,' no subtitles allowed." He grinned in victory.

"S'okay, Jim. Actually, what I had in mind was 'Braveheart'. That's one we can both agree on, right?"

The warmth of the approval in Jim's eyes thawed the ice that had formed around his heart in the moments after discovering that his sentinel was leaving. "I'll get the table set; you bring out the moo goo gai pan," he suggested.

"It's a deal, Chief," Jim said with a smile. "It's a deal."

Life seemed almost normal. For the moment, at least.

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

Four in the morning. On the streets of Cascade, there were few signs of life. Only those whose jobs required their presence in the world at such an early hour were about; everyone else remained in their beds, blissfully unaware of the lives led outside at that predawn hour. A few lone cops, sleepy newspaper delivery people, a handful of solitary watchmen. Those who were left carrying on the business of living while the rest of the world slumbered.

In the loft, while one dreamed, the other stirred.

Jim Ellison had been awake for hours. If the truth be told, he wasn't sure he had ever slept. He had almost forgotten how an imminent mission affected his sleep cycle. It was a wonder he'd slept at all in the Rangers.

He was ready to go. A mission such as this necessitated traveling light. His duffel easily held all he'd need for two weeks of survival training in the jungle. His transportation to the airport would be pulling up outside in a matter of minutes. A predawn departure suited Jim fine. It left little time for good-byes.

He hated long good-byes.

Like a mirror reflecting upon itself, Jim was aware of the changes already taking place within him. He was too focused not to notice.

The hard edge was back in his voice. He could hear it slipping in even as he talked to Sandburg during the movie. Short, clipped sentences. To the point. No extraneous words, no unnecessary emotion.

A glint of steel flashed from his eyes, a light long absent from those blue depths. It was a glint not found even in the eyes of Detective Jim Ellison. That dangerous gleam only shone from the hard eyes of Captain James Ellison, Army Ranger.

Without a single wasted motion, he checked his equipment one last time. The blade of his knife flashed briefly, its sharpness glistening in the light for only a moment before disappearing back into its protective sheath. Automatic weapon and ammunition. Dog tags hanging once more around his neck. Fatigues and bandana and boots. Camouflage paint. Canteen. Rations would be added once he reported for duty. As if he had never left military life, his hands and mind functioned together perfectly as he carried out the mental checklist he had performed countless times in the past.

Captain James Ellison was ready.

Almost.

Quietly placing his bag by the door, Jim moved stealthily across the floor. He stopped outside the French doors which provided the occupant of the room beyond with whatever privacy could be expected while living with a sentinel and listened.

His guide slept. Soft, steady breathing. Restful, calm heartbeat. All was well within.

He briefly considered turning around and leaving the loft right then. He even took several steps away from the room, the newly reemerged, old James Ellison determined not to give in to his weakness. He struggled with himself.

And lost.

Silently, he entered the bedroom, his eyes seeing easily in the dimness, perceiving clearly what other men would not.

Blair Sandburg lay huddled under a pile of blankets, like a small, lost child hiding from the world. Although the night was not cold, at least two blankets and the quilt kept him warm. It seemed he was incessantly cold, no matter what the weather. One hand, uncharacteristically small and fragile as it relaxed in sleep, lay outside the pile of covers. The hand was clinched in a loose fist, as if Blair was trying to hold on to all that threatened to escape his grasp on this late, long night.

Jim moved without breaking the silence to his side. Blair's face, half concealed beneath a veil of umber curls, lay open and vulnerable before him. The sight stole his breath away. Long, dark lashes lay matted against pale cheeks with the long dried tracks of silent tears trailing from beneath the shuttered lids. Parted slightly in sleep, Blair's lips were pressed lightly against the back of his open hand which lay partially tucked beneath his face.

The passage of time was marked only by the measured movement of the stars overhead and the shifting of the night shadows. For now, the commitments which were tearing him away, the honor and the duty which called him back to the jungle, were forgotten. As though the minutes lay frozen in the vast timelessness of space, he stood still. Gone was Jim Ellison, detective of the Cascade Police Department. Vanished was Captain James Ellison, United States Army. Forgotten, even, was Enquiri, the sentinel of the Great City.

There was only Jim, saying his silent good byes to Blair in the only way he could bear to do so.

In his heart.

In his mind.

In his soul.

At last, Jim blinked rapidly, breaking the hypnotic spell. He took a deep, shuddering breath and released it slowly. Reaching out with his right hand, he touched sensitive fingers lightly to the soft skin in the hollows beneath the younger man's eyes. His feather light touch barely skimming Blair's skin, he felt the coarse, salty remains of dried tears. Shaking his head in sadness, he reached to tenderly brush his fingers across each full eyebrow, then smoothed back a wayward strand of hair from his forehead.

His voice so low that none but a sentinel could hear, he spoke to his sleeping guide. "I'm so sorry to have to do this, Chief. Sorry to leave you behind without really saying goodbye. I just can't. I hope you can understand that." The sentinel hesitated, tracing the line of his guide's jaw. "Take care of yourself. I'm leaving the best part of myself here with you. But you know that, don't you?" He bent low and rested his face against the array of wild curls falling across the soft pillow. Jim left his face buried in the mass of hair for long moments, drinking in the sensory memories. Memories which might very well have to last him a lifetime. However long that might be. As a military officer and police detective, it was ingrained in him to realize that even the simplest mission could prove life threatening, even the most straight forward arrest might go bad. Life is never to be taken for granted.

With a soft sigh of regret, Jim Ellison straightened to his full military bearing. Picking up his duffel, he quietly shut the door after him, leaving Blair's small bedroom, the loft, and Prospect Street behind.

His disciplined mind already on the mission before him, the sentinel never heard the quiet voice whisper as the car drove away. "Be careful, Jim. You're taking the best part of me with you, too."

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

Chapter Two: Sensory Overload

He had forgotten the heat of the jungle. Even in Mexico, when they had tracked Alex there, the saturated heaviness of the air hadn't compared to this, to the stifling Peruvian humidity.

He had arrived at the small outpost, about two miles from the perimeter of the jungle, early that morning. After a lengthy flight on board an Army supply plane, the comforts of which left much to be desired, followed by an endless ride on a muddy road peppered with potholes, Jim was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to fall into a cot somewhere and sleep until nightfall. This, however, he knew was not to be.

The base camp was alive with activity. The Peruvian government had only granted the U.S. military limited access to the area for their training mission, and the powers that be were anxious to move on with the planned exercise. As Jim unloaded his duffel from the Jeep, he looked up to see a tall figure approaching with a determined stride. The insignia on his uniform identified him as a general, but an officer unfamiliar to Jim. Employing his sentinel sight, Jim checked out his name tag, then gave a stiff salute as the taller man stopped before him.

After returning the salute, the older man smiled and stuck out his hand for Jim. Returning the greeting warmly, Jim greeted his superior officer. "General Kershaw, it's an honor to meet you, sir."

The booming voice was strident and to the point. "Same here, Ellison. I'm familiar with your record and your accomplishments since leaving the service, and I couldn't be more pleased that you have joined us here for our little endeavor." With an air of one long used to being obey, the general motioned to a nearby soldier to bring Ellison's duffel. "Take that to the Captain's tent," he commanded the man standing slightly behind him, then nodded vaguely to his right. "I'm sure you're tired from your trip, Captain Ellison, but our briefing is beginning at 0900. You'll have time to grab a fast breakfast and join us. We will bring you up to speed on the details of the exercise, and you'll meet your men. The mess tent's set up there. Tell my aide de camp, Captain Michaels, if you require anything else. I'll see you at 0900." With that, General Kershaw turned on his heel and departed.

Jim sighed. Not only had he forgotten Peru's humidity, he had fully erased from his mind the remarkably varied paces of military life. It was either "hurry up and wait" or "full steam ahead." This was definitely going to be a steam powered morning. He took a brief look around the camp, then Jim set out for his tent.

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

By the time the briefing was over, Jim Ellison felt more at home in his long neglected Army boots. The details of the training mission were straight forward, and he found himself almost looking forward to the time in the jungle with the dedicated, enthusiastic young men assigned to his command.

There were four in all. The most highly qualified, most motivated young officers the military had to offer. All had heard the legend of Captain James Ellison, though none had dared entertain the possibility of serving under him. They were deferential, overly polite, and in absolute awe of their new commanding officer. Their enthusiasm and admiration were boundless.

It made James Ellison feel old.

None of the men were past their late twenties. Young enough to make even Sandburg appear mature and wise, Jim thought more than once during that first day with a wry grin. And if their youth made his friend appear old in comparison, where the hell did that leave Jim? He tried not to think about it.

Young or not, he had to admit, they were top notch soldiers. Disciplined, intelligent, and courageous. Everything a leader could hope for in the men under his command. 

That night, as Jim waited for the sleep which eluded him even in his exhaustion from his journey to Peru, he considered each of the four young men.

Simmons - top in his class at the Point in military tactics. Twenty-six years old. Ruggedly handsome, with a quick wit and a way of making everyone around him feel immediately at ease.

Chung - Third generation American, twenty-seven years old, born in Hawaii. Earned a major in chemical engineering before enlisting. Hobbies including mountain climbing and spelunking. Had a wife and small child back home.

Robinson - The youngest of the group at twenty-four. Full of energy and excitement over being included in this mission. Distinguished himself early by rescuing two men in his unit during basic training when a Jeep overturned in a rain swollen river during a training exercise. His superiors felt he had strong officer potential.

Garner - The oldest at twenty-nine. Quiet and intelligent, with an underlying strength which was impressive. Soft spoken, but he'd definitely earned the respect of his fellow men. His lively blue eyes and short brown curls reminded Jim of Blair. Although Sandburg would talk rings around the quiet, reserved Garner.

Jim smiled as he felt his body relax into the early stages of sleep. He rolled over on his side on the narrow cot as he turned down his temperature dial in an effort to beat the heat and sweltering humidity. They were good men. It would be a good mission. And, in only two weeks, he would be home. With the thought of home lighting his dreams, he drifted off to sleep.

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

The deafening roar of the chopper blades reverberated from the huge trees surrounding the base camp's clearing. His hearing dialed down, Jim stood beside General Kershaw as his small team of trainees loaded their minimal gear aboard.

"We're indebted to you for this, Captain Ellison," Kershaw shouted above the din. "I'm pleased General Greene was able to convince you to come on board."

Jim nodded sharply, his attention already focused on the mission at hand. "By the time we get back, those boys will be able to handle themselves in the toughest jungles anywhere in the world, General. They're in for the hardest two weeks of their lives, but you'll have four damn good men when we get back."

The general shook Jim's hand and smiled tightly. "I know that, Captain. It's why I requested you for this mission. See you back here in two weeks."

"Two weeks, General. They'll hike back out of that jungle as true survivors, I promise you that." With a last salute, Jim jogged toward the waiting helicopter and joined his men.

The flight was to carry them into the heart of the rainforest, near the territory of the Chopec. The first ten days would be spent in pure survival mode, learning to use the land and resources around them to meet their needs. Little was carried in. They would rely on the jungle. The last half of the second week was to be devoted to getting out of the wild. They were parachuting in, but they would hike out. Nearly forty miles in all. When they emerged, the four young men would be highly qualified to train others in the techniques of jungle survival.

They would learn from a true expert.

Jim sat away from his squad as the copter flew across a green, verdant landscape which grew more isolated, more dense with every mile. He stared down at the familiar scenery below, remembering the last time he had led a group of men into these very jungles. He remembered even as he tried to drive the haunting memories away. What would rehashing the painful past accomplish? It was over. They were all dead, long dead, and that mission was history. He had a new mission to consider and new men under his command.

Jim glanced over at his companions. They were talking, at least they were attempting to talk, over the loud drone of the chopper's blades. With his hearing down, Jim could only make out snatches of the conversation, but he didn't put forth much effort. They would have two weeks together in the dense, sweltering jungle. More than enough time to get acquainted.

Gazing down at the vast expanse of trees, his thoughts turned to all he had left behind. When he had made the necessary phone calls the evening before his departure, Simon had been understanding about the situation, even though it had been obvious he was less than pleased about losing his best detective for over two weeks. The other members of Major Crimes had almost treated it as a vacation for Jim, as though he was heading to the depths of the Peruvian rainforest for a little R & R. Jim smiled. Obviously, none of them had ever experienced military life in the jungle. He'd need rest and relaxation all right.

After the mission.

And Sandburg... While his partner had outwardly accepted Jim's involvement in the mission, he knew his friend had been hurting that night. All through the movie that last night at home, he'd been aware of Sandburg's eyes flickering over to him. Deep blue eyes filled with worry and hurt and fear. Even now, a world away from Cascade, Jim could still see the pain in Sandburg's eyes. He'd make it up to him when he was home, Jim resolved. Maybe a long camping trip in the mountains, just the two of them. Or a vacation at the beach... Hell, he'd let Blair pick the destination this time. Wherever the kid chose, it would be all right with Jim. He owed his partner that much.

His musings were roughly interrupted by a sudden jolt and strident shouts from the front of the helicopter. Rushing forward, Jim tried to make sense of the confused voices of the four men under his command. The violent gyrations of the aircraft threatened to throw him off balance, making every step a struggle to remain on his feet.

"What the hell's going on here?" Jim shouted at Chung, now standing at the doorway separating the cockpit from the rest of the chopper.

"Don't know! The pilot's out. A heart attack, maybe!"

Jim elbowed his way into the small compartment. Lt. Davis was slumped over, his stiff hands clutching the controls in a death grip. Jim immediately took stock of his vitals, and to his horror, no heartbeat registered. Garner was struggling with the safety belt strapping him to the seat. Jim glanced out the window. They were plummeting in a tight spiral, then leveled off slightly, almost grazing the tall treetops of the rainforest's emergent layer.

Frantically, Jim grappled for the controls. Suddenly, a piercing, grating sound drowned out their shouts and the helicopter shook violently. The noise from the rotors ceased entirely, and the absence of their sound was startling. Enveloped in sudden silence, the copter dropped like a stone. As the leafy branches engulfed them, Captain Jim Ellison shouted to his men, "Hold on! We're going down!"

A few seconds later, his world exploded in a mass of pain and fire.

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

Dr. Blair Sandburg removed his glasses and closed his notebook, glancing around the lecture hall at the students in his Anthropology 601 class. They were intent, waiting to hear their assignment for the week. Teaching classes for grad students was a definite step up from the introductory level courses he'd had to conduct while a graduate student himself. He grinned at the memory of those rows and rows of young, bored faces. He'd worked hard to make his lectures stimulating, but even the most interesting of teachers found it impossible to compete with the offerings of the university social calendar. "Remember, the test will be next Wednesday. You all have the outline of pertinent material included with your syllabus. Essays are due the following week. Good luck, and I'll see you next week." Like floodwaters released from their dam, the students rose and departed en masse. As Blair gathered his notes and books, he noticed a familiar form standing in the doorway.

"Simon?" Sandburg crammed the remaining papers into his worn backpack. "You come by to sit in on my next class or did you just miss my smiling face and effervescent personality?" He grinned at the tall police captain and jogged down the three steps of the elevated lecture platform. "Hey, man, I know I haven't been around the station since Jim left, but I didn't think you'd get lonely this fast." The teasing smile faded when he recognized the pain in the dark brown eyes.

"Sandburg. We need to talk. Is there someplace private?" Banks' voice was low and controlled, totally devoid of emotion.

Blair took an automatic step forward, shaking his head in denial. "No. Tell me now. What is it, Simon? What's happened to Jim?"

Simon's sigh spoke volumes. "Please, Blair. This isn't the place. Let's go to your office." He reached out to take the younger man's arm.

Blair jerked away. "No, damn it!" Fear shook Sandburg's voice. "Now! I want to know now. What's wrong with Jim? Why won't you tell me, Simon?"

Realizing the moment he had dreaded for years had finally arrived, Simon Banks softly began to speak. The words became a loud buzzing, the syllables no longer recognizable, as Blair's world came crashing down around him. The pain buried him under its unbearable weight and consumed his heart in an inferno of fiery agony. The sounds of his grief stricken cries of denial echoed through Hargrove Hall. "NO! Jim! Noooo..."

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

They gathered at the station in shock. All the members of Major Crimes had been drawn together as though by an invisible magnet. Every eye carefully avoided looking at the vacant desk by the door, the desk which served as a sad, tangible reminder of what, of whom, had been lost. The bullpen was too quiet, the silence broken only by an occasional sniffle or choked sob. The air was heavy with grief. If the Major Crimes unit functioned together as a family, they also mourned as one. This was a time of mourning. They had lost one of their own.

Those who had been together longest gathered in their captain's office. Joel Taggart stood by the window, staring outside, seeing nothing, yet feeling far too much. Occasionally, his broad shoulders shook with silent sobs of grief.

Henri and Rafe sat together at the conference table, cups of untouched coffee cooling in front of them. Rafe glanced at H., tears flooding his eyes. His partner's trembling attempt at a smile did little to comfort him.

"Do you think the captain's found him by now?" Rafe's question was asked so softly, it was almost lost.

Henri shrugged. "Probably. Sandburg had classes today, right? He'd be at Rainier, right where he was supposed to be."

Rafe choked back his tears. "Then..." His voice broke, and for a moment, he could not continue. "Then, he knows. Blair knows that Jim is..."

He never finished the sentence. The tall figure of Simon Banks filled up the doorway. One supportive arm was wrapped around the shoulders of Blair Sandburg.

All eyes focused on the young anthropologist and part time observer. Once the outsider, in a few short years Blair had earned their admiration and their respect, and in the earning, had become one of them. Eyes trained in observation took immediately stock of his appearance, evaluating both what they could and could not see. Every muscle in Sandburg's body was strained tighter than wire. His eyes were red rimmed and swollen. Even with his arms wrapped around himself, as if to give the comfort he so desperately needed, his hands trembled visibly.

Then he spoke, in a voice etched with grief. "Yeah, Rafe. I know. Jim's...dead." His bitter laugh seemed incongruous with the pain in his blue eyes. "And they claim lightening never strikes twice..." A sob obscured the final words.

The young man's grief was almost too much for those who knew him so well to bear. Needing to take some action to relieve the tension and pain in the room, Joel Taggart turned from the window. "Blair, you shouldn't be here right now. Don't you want to go home and try to rest? I'll..."

Blair cut him off. "No! I don't..." He pulled away from Simon's comforting arm and slumped down in a chair. "I can't be there right now, Joel. Thanks. I just can't go there. Not yet, okay?" He slumped over, his face buried in his hands. "Jim... Please, I just want to be with Jim..." The small gathering stood in helpless silence, their hearts breaking in sympathy for the inconsolable young man sobbing before them and with their own personal pain at the loss of their friend. Uncertain how else to help Blair but give him some privacy, their captain motioned for the others to leave. Once they were alone, Simon walked slowly to the window and stared blankly down to the street. How could life be going on out there as though nothing had happened, while in this room, a heart was shattered, a young life destroyed? Blair's ragged breathing as he struggled for control was the only sound in the room.

Jim, my friend, how I wish you could help me right now. Help me to help him. Sandburg's devastated, and I'm not sure what words to give him that will help him hold on. You always seemed to know exactly how to reach the kid. If only you could say something...

Then, he remembered. Glancing at the huddled figure as he passed, Banks returned to his desk and unlocked a drawer. He withdrew a plain, white envelope. He held it clutched tightly in his hands, staring at the single word written in the familiar handwriting. How he wished this day had never come. With a long sigh, he rose, carrying the envelope to the grieving man who had been Ellison's closest friend. Simon touched Sandburg's shoulder. "Blair?" No response. The trembling hands remained over his face, and a dry sob shook his shoulders. "Sandburg, I have something for you. Something from Jim." The final words reached him in the depths of his despair. Swollen eyes slowly gazed up, catching on the white envelope in his captain's hands. Blair looked at Simon questioningly. "Jim gave this to me not long after we came back from the shooting here in the office, Blair. I think getting shot got him thinking, and he asked me to give this to you if..." Simon paused, reining in his emotions. Staring at the wall to avoid those anguished eyes, he added, "If anything happened to him. I think he would want you to have it now. I'll leave you alone for a while, Sandburg. I'll be right outside, if you need me." He handed the envelope to Sandburg. When he first saw Jim's bold script, Blair let out a small whimper of pain. Simon rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Would you rather have me stay?" Blair shook his head, and with a last worried glance back, Simon left, closing the door softly behind him.

Chief...

Sandburg stared at the beloved nickname printed on the front of the envelope in Jim's familiar handwriting. Oh, God... His heart writhed, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe past the tightness in his chest. Jim's final words to him. How could he bear to open the envelope and read this last message from the man who had become the focal point of his life? Yet, how could he bear not to? At last, swiping the tears away roughly with his sleeve, he carefully tore open the envelope and withdrew the single sheet of plain white paper. Drawing a ragged breath, Blair unfolded it and began to read, although the words swam through his tears.

Chief,

Always,
Jim

A single tear dropped onto the white paper, followed by another, then another. Finally, the sobs broke free, and all Sandburg's grief flooded out at once, uncontrolled. His tortured cries brought the others running from the bullpen. They formed a protective semi-circle around the grieving young man, unsure of what to do except lend him their collective presence and strength. They hoped it might help, but they knew it could never begin to replace what he had lost. The letter was clutched in Sandburg's shaking fingers. Simon glanced at the familiar bold writing and felt a stab of pain in his heart. If they were all hurting this badly, what kind of hell must Sandburg be enduring? The phone rang, its clang a brutal intrusion into the sorrowful scene. Banks covered the distance to his desk in two long strides, his eyes blazing through his tears. Simon snapped up the receiver and barked in annoyance, "Banks!" Sinking down into his desk chair, he listened without speaking for several minutes. "I see. Yes, stay in touch. Please. Thank you for letting us know." Once he had hung up, he sat in silence, staring at the phone.

Taggart, Rafe, and Brown exchanged confused glances. "Captain?" ventured Joel cautiously.

Blair's head remained hidden beneath his mass of hair, the letter still clutched in his hands.

Simon rose slowly and knelt beside Blair. "Sandburg," he said softly. "Blair. Look at me." When there was no response, he reached out and gently rubbed the young man's knees. "Sandburg, look at me, please. I have news about Jim."

At last, the bowed head lifted, and blue eyes drowning in tears and grief met Simon's. The captain's heart broke at the pain in those eyes, at the lost soul gazing mournfully back at him.

"That was the liaison for the Army. There's been some news. They located the wreckage, about thirty miles into the jungle." Simon's voice was soft. "Blair, they found the bodies..."

A sob broke free, then caught in Blair's throat. He lowered his head again, his shoulders heaving. "Oh, God, Jim... I'm so sorry! I should have been with you. I wish I had been with you! No...please...no..." He clutched the letter tightly to his chest with both hands.

Immediately, Simon grasped Blair's arms and held tight, shaking him gently. "Listen, Sandburg. There should have been six bodies in that wreckage. There were only five."

When his head slowly lifted, the swollen blue eyes begged the question his voice could not ask.

"They checked the dog tags. None of them belonged to Jim."

Blair drew in a quick breath as he quickly swiped his eyes with the back of his hand. A wide smile broke across the tear stained face. "Then, he's alive! My God, Simon, he's alive!" He jumped to his feet, nearly knocking over the chair in his excitement. "I gotta get down there. I have to find Jim!" Whirling around, he headed to the door as the members of Major Crimes watched in stunned silence.

"Hold it!" The authoritative voice stopped him in his tracks, and Blair turned to face Simon Banks. "Blair," the deep voice softened. "Just because they didn't find his body doesn't mean he survived. There could be lots of reasons Jim's body wasn't found with the others. I mean," Simon hesitated, "It's the jungle, after all, and..."

Blair waved off his words impatiently. "I know, I know... But, he is alive, Simon. I know it. Jim's alive, and if he hasn't found his way to the searchers yet, there's gotta be a reason. You know as well as I do what that reason probably is." Blair stared at their captain, daring him to deny the truth of his statement.

"His senses," Simon stated flatly. "You think something's gone wrong with his senses."

Blair nodded, and his eyes glowed with renewed hope. "It makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, think about it! That's how his senses came on line the first time, right? A helicopter crash, in Peru, his entire unit killed. If it brought his senses out then, who knows what it might do to him now, with his senses fully activated. If he didn't have time to dial them down before the crash, then there's no telling what condition he might be in." Sandburg started toward the door, waving them off with an impatient hand. "That means he's gonna need me, Simon. I've waited too long already. I've gotta get to Jim!"

"Not alone, you don't."

Blair stopped in his tracks at the commanding tone. All eyes focused on their tall captain.

Simon picked up his coat and joined Blair at the door. "Ellison's my responsibility, too, Sandburg. You're going to be dealing with the United States military down there, and, face it, kid, you're not exactly the type to negotiate with the brass." He opened the door and followed Sandburg from the office. "I can talk their language. You talk Jim's. Together, just maybe, we can pull Ellison's rear out of the fire one more time. If he's alive, Sandburg, and don't forget, that's still a very big if." As he stalked out the door, he called back, "Taggart! Hold down the fort!" And they were gone.

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

Chapter Three: Recovery Mission

Blair had not remembered exactly how difficult it was to get to the heart of the Peruvian jungle from Cascade. Funny how the mind tended to bury the memories of seemingly endless plane flights and uncomfortable Jeep rides along barely recognizable roads. By the time they arrived at the makeshift military base along the edges of the rainforest, the memories were once again all too clear. At least this time, he didn't have to parachute in.

Thank heaven for small blessings.

Sandburg stretched his aching back after he hopped down from the Jeep. The military liaison who met their flight from the U.S. hadn't appeared thrilled that they had made the long flight in hopes of finding their friend. It had been only Simon's connections with some important military brass that had allowed them this access to the crash site at all. The father of an old friend from college, he had explained with a secretive smile. The college friend owed him one...several actually. Something to do with a few late nights, too many beers, and an indiscretion with an attractive coed who happened to be the underage daughter of the dean. Somehow, Blair sensed that pushing for further details could prove dangerous, so he decided not to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. They were here; they had been granted access to the crash, and that was all that mattered.

He could find out the details another time.

If the liaison hadn't been happy to see them, the tall, broad shouldered, older man now approaching looked downright furious. Simon muttered under his breath, "Here comes trouble. Try to keep your mouth shut, Sandburg. Let me handle this." He forced a smile and stepped forward with his hand out.

"Simon Banks, Cascade PD. This is Blair Sandburg, Captain Ellison's partner." Simon stood for a moment, his hand outstretched, before letting drop to his side when he realized that no welcoming handshake was forthcoming.

"I know who you are," General Samuel Kershaw growled. "I have my orders to have you escorted to the wreckage, but I'll be damned if I have to like it! Civilians have no place in a situation like this. We have an on-going investigation here into the cause of the crash, and you..."

Simon interrupted. "We have no intention of interfering in your investigation, General. We're here only to try to find out what happened to our friend. That's the extent of our interest."

"And the extent of your privileges, Captain Banks. I assure you, if you interfere in any way with our work here, you will be back on a jet to Cascade so fast, you won't know how you even got to the airport!" With those angry words, the general stalked away.

Blair turned to Simon. "What a welcoming committee! Was it something I said?"

Banks studied Sandburg with his long hair flowing to his shoulders, his faded jeans and worn T-shirt. He shook his head and grinned. "Somehow, I don't think so, Sandburg. Somehow, I just don't think so."

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

Simon had seen plenty of disasters in his lifetime, but the sight of the burned out shell of the helicopter turned his stomach. To think that human beings had to die like that, in what must have been a fireball of flame and heat. To realize that one of them had probably been a friend... He turned away from the charred and twisted metal remains and struggled to control his ragged breathing.

Blair stood staring, mesmerized by the scene. At the edge of the clearing, a row of black body bags lay side by side. It had taken this long just to extract them from the wreckage. Slowly, as if pulled by an invisible thread, Blair approached the grim line of death.

A strong hand gripping his shoulder stopped him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I have to see for myself, Simon. I have to see that he's..." The younger man summoned his courage and stared directly into the captain's brown eyes. "I have to know that Jim's not here."

"Sandburg, those bodies aren't even recognizable. It's only the dog tags that allowed them to make an ID at all. You shouldn't have to see..."

Blair's voice grew firm, and his gaze never wavered. "I've seen as bad or worse, you know that. Somehow, I have to know for sure. I need to see the proof for myself, Simon. I need to do this. I'm gonna do this." He shook his shoulder free from Banks' grasp and strode with determination toward the row of body bags, never looking back.

Methodically, as if looking at the charred remains of mannequins rather than the blackened flesh of human beings, Blair Sandburg unzipped each of the five bags and studied the silver tags still attached to each body. After reading the name, he carefully zipped up each bag and moved to the next. Through sheer will alone, he forced himself to swallow the bitter bile which rose in his throat and ignore the nauseating stench of charred flesh. For Jim, he had to do this. For Jim, he would do this. Jim...Jim...Jim..., he chanted silently, his sentinel's name becoming a protective mantra against the horrible sights which lay open before him. Jim...Jim...Jim... When his grisly task was complete, Blair turned away with a relieved sigh and walked back to join Simon Banks.

"He isn't here," he stated calmly.

"You didn't believe them, did you?" Simon asked curiously.

Blair shook his head. "Trusting in bureaucracy doesn't come easily for me, Simon. I needed to see for myself. Now, I know. I'm sure. Jim did not die in this crash."

Simon glanced back at the wreckage. "So, what do you want to do?"

Regarding the tall captain as if he had asked the most obvious question in the world, the younger man shrugged and replied, "Find him. Bring him home."

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

The general's voice carried far beyond the canvas walls of his tent. "I cannot grant you permission to join in this operation, gentlemen. I will not grant that permission. This is a military matter, and, I shouldn't have to remind you both, you are not military."

"Forgive me, General Kershaw," Simon began reasonably. "We're not trying to cause..."

Blair Sandburg stepped forward, moving to stand slightly in front of Banks, ignoring the look of warning from his captain. "Damn it! We don't have time for this crap, Simon!" He glared at the general. "Frankly, sir, we don't need your permission. Jim Ellison may have been temporarily under your command, but he is my best friend and partner. Permanently! Right now, he's out there somewhere in the jungle, and unless I missed something, that jungle is not under the control of the United States Army!"

Blair took another step toward General Kershaw, almost dwarfed next to the huge man. He stopped only inches from the bigger man, staring defiantly into the blazing eyes. It was obvious that the career military officer was livid, his face growing redder by the second, a large vein on his neck pulsing with his fury.

"Listen to me, you young..."

Like a smoldering volcano, Sandburg erupted at last. "No, you listen! Jim is my responsibility, General, not yours. Tomorrow morning I am going out into that jungle, and I am going to find my partner. I warn you..." He paused, pointing an accusing finger under the older man's prominent nose. "I warn you that if you or any of your men try to stop me, I will take this matter public. Let it be known to the press that the U.S. Army interfered with my efforts to find my best friend - a true American hero - in a place where it had absolutely no jurisdiction to do so!" He stared up into the general's blazing eyes for a moment, holding them with the determination in his own.

Jabbing once more with the finger still pointed at the general's face, Blair left the tent without another word. Simon followed close behind.

As they walked toward their own accommodations for the night, Simon whistled softly in admiration and shook his head in wonderment. "Damn, Sandburg! Damn!"

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

Three days in the jungle had done nothing for their appearance or their patience. It was oppressively hot, and the attacks of the various, and very abundant, stinging and biting insects were relentless. Blair Sandburg and Simon Banks had not returned to the military base camp since their departure long before dawn on the morning after the confrontation with General Kershaw. While they had heard the movements of the army rescue teams combing the jungle for Ellison, they had not made contact with any of the search parties.

There had been no sign of Jim.

They had set up their own camp deep within the rainforest, near a small stream of fresh water. It was late in the afternoon, and both men were exhausted from their search. They had spent three days with little sleep, out in the jungle from before sunrise until after dark, taking only the minimal time needed to rest and eat the sparse rations they had packed.

The efforts had taken their toll.

Secretively, Simon had given up hope of finding Jim alive upon seeing the charred remnants of the helicopter. Back in Cascade, when he had first received word that one body was missing from the crash and that Jim's ID wasn't among the dead, hope had risen within him. But, upon viewing the complete devastation that had once been the aircraft carrying his friend, his hopes had been dashed. He did not see how it was possible that even Jim Ellison, tough as he was, could have survived. One of the enlisted men helping with the search had even confided that they considered it more a search for remains than a rescue effort.

So far, he had kept his feelings hidden from Blair, believing that the search might allow the young man some sense of closure, if nothing else. Now, after days of fruitless searching, he felt they had done all they could.

It was time to go home.

Dreading the conversation, but knowing it was necessary, Simon moved to sit beside Sandburg, who was resting against a tree, sipping water from his water bottle. "Blair," he began cautiously. "It's been three days now, five since the crash. There's been no sign of Jim. Maybe..." Simon's voice was kind. "Blair, don't you think we should consider going home?"

Disbelieving blue eyes turned slowly to meet his. "What are you saying, Simon?" As Blair studied the final acceptance etched on Simon's face, his anger grew. "Jim's out here, man! We can't give up now!"

Simon's anger rose hot within him, suddenly, and without warning. Damn it all! It was hard enough for him to deal with Jim's death. He had counted Ellison among his closest friends for years. Among, hell. Jim was his closest friend. Nothing to compare with the extraordinary closeness Ellison shared with Sandburg, but a strong friendship just the same. Now, not only did he have to deal with his own grief, but he had Sandburg's denial to contend with as well.

Simon got up from the ground, with Blair right behind him. The two men stood face to face, confronting each other in the heat of the jungle and their grief. "Jim's dead! Damn it, Sandburg! You saw that chopper! Nobody could have walked away from that crash, not even Jim. I know how you idolized him, but he wasn't a superman! He was human, Blair, and now, he's dead!"

Sandburg's eyes blazed, and his hands gestured wildly. "What about his body, huh? There were six men on that copter, and we only found five bodies. If he's dead, where's his body? Where's Jim's body, Simon?" Hot tears of frustration and grief were streaming down Sandburg's face, threading their small paths through the layers of dirt and grime.

Seeing the pain in the miserable blue eyes, Simon forced himself to regain control. He rested a moment, breathing hard and staring up into the thick canopy above them. Finally, he looked back at the younger man and answered softly, "Animals, Blair. This is the jungle, after all. You saw the condition the other bodies were in. If Jim died near the opening, or if he was thrown clear, then the animals could have..."

"NO! Stop it!" Blair screamed, pacing away from Banks. "I won't listen to any more! Jim's not dead, Simon! He's not, damn you! If he was, I'd know it! Don't you understand? I'd feel it. I'd have to feel it." His breath catching in a sob, Blair dropped to the ground, hunched over, rocking himself slowly in misery. "Part of me would have died with him, and I'd know it, Simon." He looked up at the captain, his blue eyes filled with anguish. "Don't you think you'd know it if half your soul had died?"

Forcing himself to remain calm, Banks knelt beside the distraught young man. "Blair, you're grieving. Deep down, you know the truth. You're already grieving, and that grief is keeping you from recognizing the truth already in your heart. Jim's dead."

Sandburg shot up and quickly moved away from Simon, then whirled to face him again. "No! He's not! You can go back, Simon. I don't need you. I don't need you to find Jim. I'm not leaving until I find him. He wouldn't leave me when everyone else thought I was dead, even you, Simon, and I'll be damned if I'll leave him now!" Stricken blue eyes glared, the power of his absolute determination shining from deep in his soul.

Simon grabbed Blair's shoulders and shook him hard, making the younger man's head snap back violently. "Damn it, Sandburg! You can't stay out here alone! That's not what Jim would want, and you know it. What if...?"

His words were cut off by a sudden blur of movement and a loud, angry roar which echoed through the jungle. Simon hit the ground with a grunt, holding his abdomen and rolling in pain.

Blair took a step back, his eyes wide in disbelief.

The sentinel stood over Simon, staring down at the captain and breathing hard. His eyes were wild with hatred, the pupils contracted to mere pinpricks. A low growl emanated from deep in his throat. His hands outstretched, the sentinel bent over, reaching for Banks' throat.

"Jim! No! Stop it!"

At the sound of Blair's voice, Jim Ellison slowly straightened, his hands falling to his sides. He stood very still, looking at Sandburg. His face was cut and bruised. His army fatigues were nearly in rags, barely hanging from his body. What remained of the fabric was charred and blackened. Jim's battered face and hands bore angry, red burn marks, and cuts covered the bare skin beneath the rags. His rage having subsided, Jim's blue eyes were confused, almost frightened, as he stared at his guide.

"Jim...? What's happened to you, man?" Blair spoke softly, soothingly. He could feel his own heart pounding in his chest and was sure its heavy rhythm was upsetting Jim. He forced himself to breathe slowly and deeply in an effort to calm himself, and as a result, calm his friend as well. "It's okay, buddy. It's all right." He took a tentative step toward Ellison, holding outstretched hands toward the older man. "Jim...?"

Like a frightened stallion, the sentinel hesitantly walked toward Blair, one slow step at a time, before stopping right in front of him. The clouded blue eyes studied his face, as though seeking some distant memory. His nostrils flared as he breathed in Blair's scent, and his jaw muscle twitched. Slowly, he reached out a dirty, burned hand to touch one of the soft curls that hung over Blair's shoulder. His fingers gently caressed the hair, as a small smile flickered across his face.

Sandburg felt his heart tighten in gratitude at the small gesture of recognition. "You like my hair, don't you, big guy?" Blair smiled up at him, tears of relief flooding his eyes. "It's okay, Jim. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise. You're going to be all right."

Simon was sitting up on the ground now, carefully holding his stomach. His eyes were wide in disbelief at the scene before him. "Sandburg," he asked quietly. "You want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

At the sound of Simon's voice, Ellison whirled around, placing himself protectively between Blair and Banks. The fury returned to his eyes, and another low growl rose from his throat.

"Jim? It's all right, man. Calm down, okay? Simon's not going to hurt me. Easy, Jim, just relax." Blair took a step forward, laying his hand on the sentinel's arm and stroking the dirty, sweaty skin. Without looking at Banks, he said quietly, "Simon, I want you to get up, but move very slowly. Then, back away from us. Go back to our camp. Wait there for me. I'll bring him in when I can. It may be awhile, tomorrow or maybe even longer, before he's able to come there with me. Just wait. Whatever you do, don't come after us."

"Sandburg, I don't know about..." Simon's voice rose to challenge Blair's directions.

Jim Ellison took two steps toward him, the low, menacing growl becoming louder.

Blair became impatient. "Simon! Just do it, okay? I'm not totally sure what's happening here, but Jim's trying to protect me. It's pretty obvious that he will hurt you, if he perceives you to be a threat. Until I can reason with him, you need to get out of here. Now."

Slowly, Simon got to his feet, holding his hands outstretched. "Will you be okay?"

Blair nodded and smiled up at Ellison. The taller man's eyes never left Simon's face. "I'll be fine. Don't worry; Jim would never hurt me. You know that. Just go."

As Simon Banks backed away into the forest, he said quietly, "The camp's not that far away, Sandburg." He nodded toward the radio clipped to Blair's belt. "Call if you need me."

Blair smiled, his eyes back on his sentinel. "I don't know what hearing a voice on the radio would do to him right now. Probably best not to spring that on him. Don't worry, Jim won't hurt me. We'll be all right."

Jim's steely gaze followed Simon until he disappeared into the forest, and Blair was certain he was monitoring his progress for several minutes afterward. He stood in what his guide now recognized as his 'listening stance,' head slightly cocked to one side, a look of intent concentration on his face. The infamous jaw muscles worked almost constantly, a certain sign of his inner turmoil.

Sandburg took advantage of the minutes while Jim was absorbed in tracking Simon to study his friend. Beyond the burns and cuts, none of which seemed too serious, Jim was apparently unharmed. How had he survived a crash which had virtually disintegrated the helicopter and had burned its other occupants beyond recognition? His knife, still encased in its sheath, hung at his belt. His holster was empty, its leather ripped and torn to shreds. He must have lost his gun somewhere, either in the crash or during his days in the jungle. Jim's hair was slightly singed, and his eyelashes appeared to have suffered the same fate, as they were shorter than normal. His face was red, as though he had a slight sunburn. Overall, Blair thought in relief, he seemed in good shape. Better than he had any right to be, after all he'd been through. No, Jim appeared to be fine.

At least physically.

Mentally and emotionally - now that might be another matter.

Slowly, Jim's light blue eyes focused back on Blair. Still confused, perhaps even frightened, they looked to him for answers to the questions he didn't even understand. Blair reached out his hand, gently rubbing Jim's broad back in soothing, long strokes. He could feel the powerful muscles tremble beneath his touch, as though the sentinel was afraid, yet at the same time, he instinctively knew that here was his guide.

"It's all right, buddy. Simon's gone. It's just us, now, Jim. Try to take it easy, okay?" Blair continued his comforting rubbing as he talked, and gradually felt the tense muscles relax beneath his familiar touch.

Night was falling fast. Already it was becoming difficult to see past the closest line of dense growth edging the small clearing where they stood. It was too soon to expect Jim to accompany him to the camp where Simon waited. They would have to pass the night here.

"Hey, buddy," Blair said quietly. "It's getting dark now. We need to make some plans for the night. I know you're pretty comfortable with this jungle life, but me, I'd at least like a fire to ward off the creatures of the night, y'know?"

Jim watched him closely, but there was no sign he understood the meaning of Blair's words. Sandburg cocked his head. "You getting any of this, Jim? I mean, I know you can hear me, that much is obvious from how you tracked Simon, but do you understand me?"

When there was no reply, he sighed. "Guess I can try to figure this all out later, right? First things first. And right now, I think our first order of business is building a fire for the night."

While Blair built a fire circle of rocks, then gathered a supply of wood which might prove dry enough to burn, Jim watched him intently, as if afraid Blair might suddenly disappear from sight. The act of building a fire seemed to trigger no recognition in him; Jim never once tried to assist.

Before long, a comforting blaze filled the darkness. Sinking to the earth in gratitude, Blair took a deep breath, leaning his head back and stretching the tired muscles in his neck. He was exhausted. But, he had found Jim. They had a fire to guard them in the night, and tomorrow was another day. For now, all he wanted to do was rest.

He looked up at his friend. Jim stood still, right where he had remained as Blair laid their fire. His eyes had not strayed from the younger man since Simon had left them alone. Blair patted the ground beside him. "C'mon, man, sit down. It's okay, Jim. We're staying right here for the night. You can relax, okay?" Once again, he indicated the spot beside him.

Warily, the sentinel's eyes circled the area around their crude campsite, peering deep into the foliage, his head cocked once more in the familiar listening pose. Every few minutes, his head would jerk in a different direction as some sound caught his attention.

He's checking the perimeter. Making sure we're safe, that nothing is out there that could harm us. Blair waited quietly, allowing his sentinel time to finish his sensory sweep. Gradually, the tense body relaxed a little, and his gaze returned to Blair.

"It's okay, Jim. Come over here, now. Please?" Blair smiled encouragingly.

Slowly, Jim Ellison approached his friend and eased gracefully to the ground beside him. His light blue eyes searched Blair's, still seeking illusive answers to unasked questions. Then, he smiled slightly and reached out to take Blair's smaller hand in his own, squeezing it gently.

Sandburg closed his eyes briefly, offering up a brief prayer of thanks. He covered Jim's hand with his free palm, then met his friend's eyes and gazed into them deeply. "It's okay, Jim. It's all gonna be okay."

They sat for a long time in silence. Blair debated trying to continue to communicate with Jim. Somehow, his friend didn't seem to realize anything was lacking, that he should be speaking, as Blair was doing. Sandburg yawned. He was so tired. Until he'd found Jim, he had been operating on pure, desperate adrenaline. Now that they were reunited, the physical and emotional strain of the past few days came down on him all at once. His mind felt foggy, and he knew he would find no answers that night. Maybe with a little sleep, the solutions would be clearer. He studied Jim. The sentinel remained alert, still focused on the jungle beyond their campfire. He needed rest as well. But how could Blair convince him to leave his constant vigil long enough to sleep?

Blair smiled as an idea occurred to him. Easing his hand from within Jim's, he stretched both arms over his head with a mighty yawn. Puzzled blue eyes watched every move. Blair smiled at Jim, then eased over on his side, facing the warmth of the fire. He couldn't see Jim now, but he listened carefully. His friend never stirred.

After several minutes had passed, Blair shivered slightly, drawing his arms around himself and trying to curl into a small ball for warmth. He shivered again.

The sentinel's face crinkled with concern. The guide was uncomfortable. He searched the environment with his senses. The night air was a little chilly, and a strong breeze stirred the uppermost leaves of the canopy above. His guide was cold.

Blair waited, shivering once more. Then he felt it - the quiet movement as Jim lay down behind him. A strong arm wrapped over his shoulder, pulling him back against a broad chest. Jim's other arm worked its way beneath him until he was wrapped securely in his warm, protective embrace. Blair's hands crept up and held on to Jim's forearms, squeezing gently. "Thanks, buddy," he whispered.

The only answer was a tightening of the embrace into a firm hug. Snuggling his head against Jim's bicep, Blair closed his eyes. Soon, he felt Jim's body relax into his and heard his breathing become slow and steady.

The sentinel slept.

Smiling tenderly, Blair closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

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

Chapter Four: Discoveries

He awakened alone. Opening his bleary eyes to the golden glow of rainforest dawn filtering down through the trees, Blair immediately searched the small clearing for Jim. He wasn't difficult to locate.

The sentinel was back on duty. Sandburg wondered if Jim had slept at all after he had drifted off to sleep with his friend resting at long last behind him. From the redness of his eyes, and the small, tired lines etched on his face, it was doubtful that Jim had been blessed with over a couple of hours rest. For a moment, Blair felt guilty for not realizing when his partner had left his side to resume his faithful vigilance. Out of necessity, he pushed the guilt aside. There were more important matters on his mind. In their partnership, more often than not, the burden of saving their lives or, at the very least, getting them out of hazardous situations fell to Jim. This time, Blair was all too aware that he carried that heavy burden of responsibility on his own shoulders. This time, it was all up to him. Ignoring the protests of his aching limbs, stiff from sleeping on the hard earth, Blair pushed himself to a sitting position.

"Hey, Jim," he called softly.

Immediately, concerned blue eyes sought his, searching for any sign that his guide was in trouble.

"Shhhhh... It's okay, man," Blair soothed him, knowing that his tone carried more weight at the moment than his words. "Everything's all right. Relax. Did you get much sleep last night?" Stiffly, he forced himself to stand up and stretched, raising his arms high over his head and slowly bending from side to side. Shoulda been more dedicated to my yoga exercises. Then, maybe I wouldn't feel like a walking advertisement for Ben Gay and the local chiropractor. Blair bent over from the waist, allowing his arms to fall loosely toward the ground as he stretched out his back. His long hair cascaded over his face, obscuring his view of Jim.

The sentinel watched curiously, then took a couple of steps closer to his guide. He cocked his head slightly to one side as he observed the strange behavior.

Blair straightened up, grinning at the confused look on Jim's face. "Just working out the kinks, man. Hey, I hear water running close by, so there must be a stream. I could go for something to drink. This morning mouth gets old really fast." Blair glanced about the clearing, completely bare except for the smoldering embers of the fire. "Wish I'd thought to bring my pack instead of leaving it back at the camp with Simon," he muttered. "Sometimes roughing it really sucks." Turning his attention back to Jim, he motioned toward the sound of the water. "I'm going to get a drink, buddy. Wanna come along?"

He need not have asked. As soon as he moved from the clearing, he heard Jim trailing closely behind. Kinda like having a puppy. A really big, overprotective puppy.

It wasn't far to the small stream. Only a few feet across, the clear water tumbled over rocks, worn smooth by the stream's endless liquid caress. Blair sighed contentedly as he sipped cool water from his cupped hands. When he'd quenched his thirst, he splashed his face and arms in a futile attempt to freshen up. Then, he sat down on a fallen log and observed his partner.

His friend had knelt beside the stream. He bent over, cupping his hands to drink. Jim had only taken a few swallows, when suddenly, his head jerked upward, and his alert eyes stared intently into the canopy above. Except for the motion of his probing eyes, the sentinel was absolutely still. Not a single muscle moved; there was not the slightest sound to alert an intruder that they were being observed.

Blair followed his gaze, seeing nothing but the movement of the leaves in the breeze. He remained silent, waiting. Moments later, a small troop of monkeys went swinging by overhead, their happy cackling ringing through the forest. With an almost unnoticeable nod of acceptance, Jim turned his sight back to the interior of the forest.

With sweat running in rivulets down his nearly bare back, the scratches and cuts covering his body, and the intent, focused look on his face, he was the epitome of Burton's sentinel. Magnificent. Feral. He was a spirit born of the earth, of fire and of water. A spirit conceived in the heart of the jungle, one with the forces of nature which surrounded him.

Blair shivered in awe at the scene. Ever since he had met Jim Ellison, he had worked, studied, even fought, to guide Jim to become the complete sentinel. To help him focus, to lead him to the discovery of how to control his powerful gifts. But never, even in his wildest dreams, had he envisioned Jim this way. Totally engulfed within his own senses, cut off from the reality of the modern world, a pure Watchman, unaware of the powerful aura he exuded.

"What's happened to you, buddy?" Blair whispered, no longer expecting an answer from Jim, but falling into his habit of reasoning aloud.

The young anthropologist frowned in concentration as he analyzed what could have happened to his friend. "Let's see if we can figure out the scenario here. The chopper went down, right? Must've been overwhelming - all the noise and smells...the heat and the fear. Just like the last time." He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining the terrifying scene in his mind. It must have been horrible. The stench of burning flesh...the crackling flames...the spiraling out of control...the grinding and wrenching of the helicopter as it was torn apart...the impact as they slammed into the hard earth... Blair shook his head to drive away the images. How had Jim managed to survive it all a second time?

"If it caught you off guard, if you didn't have time to dial down your senses... All that coming down on you at once..." Blair's clear blue eyes opened again, and he looked right at Jim. "It overloaded your senses, didn't it?" He stood up, pacing back and forth beside the stream.

The sentinel watched every step Blair took as he paced, until, without warning, he moved quickly to the side of the stream, crouched down, and stared into the water.

Quietly, Sandburg came to his side, peering into the tumbling stream. Jim's arm shot out, preventing him from moving closer to the water. Blair peered over the restraining arm. There, swimming slowly upstream, was a long, black snake with tan markings. He glanced over at Jim. As the snake moved away, the sentinel went back to his constant vigil.

Blair processed the new information he'd just gained for a few moments. "Okay...so you're hearing everything right now, aren't you? Every small noise, every creature in the jungle. Why?" He paused, staring at Jim's broad back. "You survive the crash, right? When you wake up, you find yourself back here - back where your senses first came on-line. You're probably overwhelmed with all the input. So many sounds. So many smells. It's like..." He stopped, struggling to express in words what his gut was telling him.

"You've reverted back to your basic instincts as a sentinel. You can't handle anything right now except dealing with all the messages you're getting from your environment. Not to mention the fact that being back here, in the jungle, probably sent you deeper into the ultimate sentinel mode. When I showed up, one more instinct kicked in, didn't it?" He paused as he pondered the direction his thoughts were leading him, then nodded as the pieces continued falling into place. "Yeah... You recognized me - recognized your guide - and your inner drives are screaming at you that that's your main focus. To protect your guide. Got no tribe right now, so I'm it."

Sandburg stopped his monologue abruptly, as he took in his partner's expression. Jim appeared to be listening, but Blair couldn't tell if his words were making sense to the man or not. The sentinel wore a small, half smile, as if the sound of his guide's voice was pleasing to him, even if the words bore absolutely no meaning.

Blair went over and stood in front of Jim, studying the still features carefully. "That's why you attacked Simon. You thought I was in danger. Man, Jim... I only thought I was working with a sentinel all these years." He gestured broadly, gazing around at the lush forest surrounding them. "But, here and now, in this place..." He looked back at Jim. "This is what being a sentinel is all about, isn't it? Pure, unadulterated instinct. Question is, what the hell am I going to do to get you back?"

Blair found no answers in his sentinel's lost eyes.

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

Several hours later, Blair approached their campsite carefully, with Jim following close on his heels. When they were less than fifty yards away, he called softly, "Simon? You there? If you hear me, do not come toward us. Find a place to sit down, facing the sound of my voice. I'll give you a minute. When we come into sight, remain very still. I need to see how Jim reacts to your presence. We'll have to play it by ear."

Blair glanced over at Jim. The sentinel was totally motionless, his nostrils flaring, and the muscles in his strong jaw twitching constantly. Blair felt a surge of near panic. He's caught Simon's scent. He knows he's nearby, and he's nervous. Oh, man! I don't know how to handle this. This is way beyond my research. Way beyond.

He fought back the wave of fear. He could handle this. He had to handle this. There was no choice. Taking a deep breath for courage, Blair turned his attention back to the clearing ahead of them. "Okay, Simon. Hope you're ready in there. We're coming in."

Jim moved beside him, as if joined to his guide with an invisible cord. His alert, blue eyes never ceased moving, as he scanned the area for any sign of danger. Then, he spotted Simon. The sentinel growled once, from the depths of his throat, as he stared ambivalently at his captain and friend. Then, his eyes flitted back again to his guide, the one he had followed to this place. Indecisiveness burned in his eyes.

Banks sat with his arms wrapped around his knees on the ground beside the fire circle. He kept his head bowed, watching their approach from beneath hooded eyes. He nodded slightly at Blair, acknowledging that his message had been received.

"That's good, Simon," the young man encouraged. "Don't make any sudden moves. I'm gonna come sit across from you. Hopefully, Jim will follow and settle down." Slowly, he moved closer to Banks. He could feel the nervous energy exuding from Jim's body, like heat from a glowing fire. He heard another soft growl and saw Jim's hands clinch into tight fists.

Forcing his voice to remain calm, Sandburg murmured, "Jim, buddy, it's okay. Easy, now. Trust me, here, partner. Just trust me." Gracefully, Blair slipped to the ground across the fire circle from Simon. "I'm all right. We're all right. Just relax. Take it easy, Jim. I know you can do this. C'mon, man; it's okay." Blair kept his eyes locked with Jim's, his quiet voice coaxing him, gradually soaking out the fear like a human sponge. He patted the ground beside him. "Come sit with us, okay? It's all right, Jim. Trust me. C'mon..."

At last, the sentinel eased down beside his guide, his wary eyes focused intently on Simon Banks, sitting so still across the fire circle. Blair could hear his fast paced breathing, a tell tale sign that Jim was fighting every protective instinct he possessed. He reached over and rested his hand lightly on Jim's knee. "That's great, man. You're doing so good here, Jim. Everything's cool, right?"

Slowly, Simon lifted his eyes to look at the pair. He made a conscious effort to keep his voice soft, his body still. "What the hell is wrong with him, Sandburg? It's like he's turned into your own personal guard dog. Maybe attack dog is more like it. I can tell the sentinel part of him is still there. Hell, it's taken over! But, what's happened to the part of him that's Jim Ellison?"

Blair grinned at the analogy Simon had drawn, so similar to his own. Then, he smiled reassuringly at Jim, who had tensed once more at the sound of Simon's voice. "It's okay, buddy. It's okay." He moved his hand from Jim's knee to his arm, squeezing it lightly before turning his attention back to Simon. Beneath his fingers, he felt Jim relax a little. As he spoke, he kept up the gentle, comforting massage.

"You hit the nail on the head, Simon. The sentinel part is more than just still there; it's taken over completely. That's why he attacked yesterday when he saw you shaking me. Right now, Jim's world consists of pure sensory input and his inborn mandate to protect me."

Banks nodded. "Guess that makes sense. At least, as much sense as any of this sentinel business makes to me. So the million dollar question is...what do you do now, Sandburg?"

The younger man shrugged, his frustration obvious. "None of this is in any books, Simon. This is completely new ground we're exploring here. I'm just guessing on most of this stuff anyway; you know that. The normal, day-to-day problems Jim faces back home are tough enough, but this..." Blair shook his head, staring at the ground in front of him. "I don't know if I can do this, man. What if I can't figure out how to get him back?" Slowly, his troubled blue eyes rose to meet the empathetic brown ones of their captain and friend.

"You can do it, Sandburg. Hell, I've seen you come up with stuff to help him that nobody else ever would have considered." Simon's voice resonated with his deep confidence in the younger man. Briefly, he wondered to himself when he had become so damned confident in the abilities of one Blair Sandburg - off-beat anthropologist and guide. Probably not too long after Jim found that very confidence within himself. Enough confidence to trust this man with his very life. He kept his eyes locked with Blair's. "Yeah, this is a tough one, Sandburg, but you can do this. I know you can. Jim knows you can. More importantly, deep down in your heart, you know you can." Simon paused for a beat. "Don't you?"

For a long minute, there was only the sound of the wind in the canopy, the rustling of leaves, and the quiet sounds of the abundant life around them. Then, softly, came the firm response. "Yeah. I do."

Simon chuckled. "So, Dr. Sandburg, where do we begin?"

Blair's blinding grin reassured him, even as his words contradicted his expression. "Damned if I know, Simon. Damned if I know."

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

After long, slow hours of coaxing combined with constant reassurances, Jim finally accepted Simon's movements about the clearing, at least as long as he didn't come too close to Sandburg. Remembering the violent attack of the previous afternoon, avoiding physical proximity with Jim's young guide was tops on the captain's list of priorities. At last, they were able to settle around the newly rekindled fire for a long awaited meal.

Blair leaned back against a tree stump with a tired sigh. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. Not to mention the fact that his emotions felt as if they had been run over by a Mack truck.

At least, Jim was eating something. Earlier, the sentinel had disappeared for a few minutes, to Blair's worried chagrin. Slipping away silently into the depths of the rainforest, Jim had vanished from sight almost instantly. Fretting constantly and pacing the confines of their camp, his guide had threatened to go after him. It had only been Simon's not so gentle orders to stay put that had kept Blair from running after Jim.

The sentinel was back soon, his hands filled with fruits and nuts gleaned from the rainforest's bountiful table. At Blair's grin of pleasure, Jim had actually smiled, his first real smile since returning to them. The sight brought unexpected tears to Blair's eyes, at the same time the small reminder of the old Jim brought him a surge of hope. Jim was still in there somewhere, locked inside the sentinel's tough coat of armor. Somehow, some way, there had to be a way to bring him out.

To bring Jim back.

Blair took another bite of mango, chewing it slowly and relishing the flavor. The sweet taste was refreshing, and he was grateful for a friend who could locate such a feast so far from the modern conveniences of home.

Simon sat quietly nearby, also enjoying the fresh fruit. It seemed that Jim had accepted the fact that this strange man presented no threat to his guide. While the sentinel cut his sharp blue eyes frequently toward his captain, his main focus now seemed to be on the surrounding jungle.

"Feeling better?" Simon asked Sandburg, as he watched the younger man savoring his fruit.

Blair nodded, his mouth full of juicy mango. He swallowed and took a drink of water from the plastic bottle beside him. "Yeah. Amazing what nourishment can do."

Simon took a long drink from his bottle. "I hate to bring this up," he said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "But while you were gone, I went out and about, just checking to see if anyone else was nearby. The Army search teams are on the move, heading this way. They're progressing slowly, and they seem to be taking their time. Making sure they don't miss a thing."

Blair's voice was worried. "They know he's out here, and they're looking for him, aren't they?"

"Of course, Sandburg. He's one of their own. If there's a chance of rescue..."

"That's not it, Simon!" At the urgency in his tone, Jim looked at him in concern. Reaching out to squeeze his friend's hand, Blair murmured softly, "It's okay, Jim. I'm okay. Take it easy, big guy." He spoke more softly, determined not to upset the sentinel, as he rubbed Jim's hand reassuringly with his thumb. "It's because he's special, Simon, and you know it. I tried to tell Jim that his abilities were the real reason behind this whole fiasco, but he refused to see it. Now, all they want is to get their hands on him again." Blair's soft blue eyes grew hard. "Well, I'm not about to let that happen."

"Would that be so bad, Sandburg? Maybe..."

Blair could no longer sit still. He jumped up, a living bundle of nervous energy, gesturing dramatically as he spoke. "My God, Simon! Can't you see what would happen? They'd come charging in here, guns drawn, noisy and taking over... What do you think Jim would do then, huh?" When Simon didn't respond, he pushed on. "I'll tell you what would happen. He'd go ballistic! He'd try to protect me from the U.S. Army, Simon, and then they'd..." Blair's voice broke with emotion, but he forced himself to continue. Somehow, he had to make Simon understand what he saw so clearly. "They'd kill him. He wouldn't quit, and they'd just open fire and blow him away. It's the truth, and don't you dare try to deny it." His energy spent, Sandburg sank back down beside Ellison and stared down at the ground.

At the echo of fear in his friend's voice, Jim reached out, laying his hand over Blair's. The worry in his eyes tore at the younger man's heart. Blair turned his hand, lacing his fingers in Jim's. He whispered, "It's okay, Jim. It's okay. I won't let them near you, I promise."

Simon cleared his throat. "Exactly how do you plan to avoid it? I mean, face it, Sandburg, we're outnumbered here. Outnumbered and surrounded. There's no way out without going right through them. And, for the record, I know you're right. If they get their hands on Jim in this condition, he's a sitting duck for whatever tests or experiments they might have in mind. On the other hand, that's assuming he survived the initial encounter. If he thought they were threatening you for one second... You're got it right. Jim would take on the entire U.S. Army to protect you, and they'd kill him. So, what...?" Simon's voice faded away, his eyes fixed on a point directly behind Jim and Blair.

Jim had already turned to face the forest depths. His muscles quivered in expectation.

Blair was almost afraid to move. "Simon," he whispered. "What...?"

Simon Banks touched his forefinger to his lips. "Shhhh... We've got company."

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

Chapter Five: Revelations

Although it seemed time stood still, only a few, brief moments actually passed. It was only when he heard his heart pounding in his ears that Blair realized he had forgotten to breathe.

Breaking the frozen tableau, Jim silently rose to his feet, graceful as a cat, placing himself between the unknown danger and his guide. His fear forgotten, Blair Sandburg prepared himself to intervene. If they had been found by the military searchers, he had to try to head off the conflict before it began. That might be Jim's only hope.

There was a slight rustling in the leaves, accompanied by a barely discernible shifting of shadows. Blair strained to see through the complicated web of forest branches and leaves, to find the figures he knew must be there, but remained invisible.

"Can you see anything?" Simon's stage whisper cut the thickness of the humid air like a blade.

At the unexpected sound, Blair started, then he felt Jim's shoulder press reassuringly against his. "I'm okay," he breathed. "Jim? Who's out there?"

He didn't really expect an answer.

From the dimness of the jungle, three men emerged, staring at them with eyes of coal. They were dressed only in loincloths, their hands clutched spears and blowguns, and their long, straight, dark hair hung over their bare shoulders. Black paint obscured parts of their facial features, but it failed to disguise the blatant curiosity in their eyes. One of the men, younger than the others, stepped forward, his head cocked as he regarded the face of Jim Ellison. He slowly approached the sentinel, stopping only a few feet in front of him.

Blair moved to step forward and intercede, but he was stopped by Simon's hand, tight on his arm. Glancing at the captain's eyes, he read the look of clear warning. 

"Enquiri?" The young man's voice was uncertain.

Blair watched Jim carefully. In a matter of seconds, it registered a palette of feelings - uncertainty, distrust, curiosity, recognition, relief - emotions all clearly painted across the expressive canvas of the sentinel's face. He spoke not a word, but his head inclined slightly in acceptance of his old Chopec name.

Blair's mouth dropped opened in amazement. Jim had failed to respond that much to him in the hours since they had been reunited. Yet, in a matter of seconds, he had silently acknowledged the young warrior's single word question.

The young Chopec turned his attention to Banks and Sandburg. "What is wrong with Enquiri?"

Blair's eyes widened. "You speak English?"

The whiteness of the young warrior's teeth contrasted vividly with his bronze skin. He nodded, his black eyes shining proudly. "Yes. Last year I learned to speak your English. It is good, my speaking?"

Blair grinned, and he was rewarded by an answering smile from the Chopec warrior. "Very good. How did you learn? Living here in the jungle, I mean."

The other man nodded. "A missionary. She lived for a year with a nearby tribe. The elders let me visit. To learn the language of Enquiri."

Blair's look turned curious. "Why? You're Chopec." He gestured at the surrounding forest. "This is your home and your life. Why would you want to learn to speak English?"

A cloud of sadness darkened the smiling eyes. "Bad men came here once from your land so far away. They came to destroy the trees...the animals...our home. It was hard for us to stop them because..." He hesitated, searching for the right words. "We did not understand them. They did not understand us. If ever such men come here again, maybe my speaking their words will make it easier to stop them." For a moment, he looked worried. "Did I say this right?"

"Exactly right." Blair smiled approvingly. "What's your name? I'm Blair Sandburg, and this is Simon Banks. We're..."

The young Chopec interrupted. "You are the anamari for Enquiri. You are Ankaree."

Taken by surprise, Blair gasped and took a step backward, away from the Chopec warrior. Jim stepped between them instinctively, his blue eyes worried, and a dangerous growl rumbling up from his throat.

Simon watched intently, his eyes darting from Blair's suddenly pale face to the proud warrior standing before them. "Sandburg? What's the hell's wrong with you? What did he say?"

Blair was more concerned with Jim's reaction than Simon's. He squeezed the powerful forearm reassuringly. "It's okay, man. It's all right. Easy, Jim." As he saw the concern fade from Jim's eyes and felt the tense muscles relax, he turned back to the Chopec. "What did you call me? Anamari? What does that mean? And how did you know that I am also called Ankaree? Nobody knows that name; nobody but Jim."

Simon's dark eyes were pools of concern and curiosity. Just when it seemed that he was getting a handle on understanding all this sentinel/guide spiritual mumbo jumbo, another mystery popped up to confound him. "Ankaree? What the hell...?"

Blair dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "I'll explain later. Go on. What does it mean, this anamari?"

The young warrior smiled. "Your spirit name is Ankaree. The one who interprets." He nodded approvingly. "It is a strong name. With a powerful spirit. You must be a great shaman, Ankaree, to be the interpreter for a sentinel such as Enquiri."

The corners of Blair's mouth twitched, and his voice held an ironic edge. "Yeah, right. Blair Sandburg, all knowing, most powerful shaman. That's me. Tell me about anamari." Simon shot him a curious glance, then turned his attention back to the Chopec as the warrior once more began to speak.

"Anamari means..." He paused as he sought the right words. "It is the sentinel's other half, the one who guides him. The one born to protect him and show him the way." His expression grew quizzical. "You know that a sentinel is only half? For there to be balance, he needs his anamari to become whole?"

"You got that right," Simon muttered.

His throat suddenly tight, Blair only nodded.

The younger man continued. "The others, those Chopec who went to the Great City and returned, said that you wear the pendants. Those given to you by Incacha. Is this true?"

Silently, Blair reached beneath his sweat stained, blue T-shirt. As Simon and the cluster of Chopec watched, he withdrew a small, round, stone pendant. In perfect synchronicity, Jim repeated his movements, bringing out a pendant of his own from beneath the remnants of his charred and tattered shirt. The small group of Chopec nodded knowingly and smiled at each other in approval.

"It is good," the young man said. "Incacha saw wisely. You are anamari to Enquiri. Truly, it is so."

Simon looked at the pendants around his friends' necks. How long had they worn them? Would he ever discover all the secrets harbored within this unique relationship? He searched Blair's eyes, silently asking the question.

"Later," Sandburg whispered. "Later."

"Seems like I've been getting that answer a lot lately, Sandburg," Simon retorted quietly.

Grinning, Blair turned back to the Chopec. "You seem to know all about me," he said with a friendly smile. "But you still haven't told me your name."

The young warrior nodded, then replied, "Acana. My name is Acana."

"Acana," Blair repeated. "Did you know Jim - Enquiri - when he was here before?"

He nodded. "I was little more than a child, but I knew him. All Chopec knew Enquiri." Acana took a step closer to the sentinel, studying the too-bright alertness of his eyes and the tenseness of his entire body. "He hears too much now. Sees too much. Is this right?"

Blair looked up at Jim's face, his eyes reflecting his concern. "You're right, Acana. He was in a helicopter crash, like the last time. But, last time, his senses weren't online yet. This time they were. I think his senses were overloaded." At the confused look on Acana's face, he searched for simpler words. "There was too much noise, too much smoke, too much heat for his senses to handle."

This explanation seemed to satisfy Acana. "He needs to come with us. Imaru awaits you."

"Imaru?" Now, it was Blair's turn to be caught off guard. "He is...?"

Acana smiled. "You are shaman of the Great City, Ankaree. Anamari to Enquiri. Once, Incacha was shaman to the Chopec. Now, it is Imaru. He is shaman to the Chopec now."

Blair's tone was suddenly hopeful. "And you think that Imaru can help Jim? He can help Enquiri?"

Acana nodded. "Imaru is very wise, very powerful. He can help the sentinel. Bring your friend," he said, nodding toward Simon and smiling. "Come with us."

With those words, Acana and the other Chopec vanished into the undergrowth. Blair quickly moved off with Jim close behind.

Simon hesitated for a moment, considering whether to gather a few supplies from their makeshift camp. Hearing the footsteps of his friends gradually growing fainter, he turned his back on their small hoard of belongings and hurried to catch up.

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

The Chopec were a nomadic people, living among several loosely connected tribes. Their territory ranged over nearly three hundred square miles of lush, tropical Peruvian rainforest. While small, mostly temporary, settlements existed, for the most part, they wandered the forest, gathering the bounty around them for nourishment, sleeping on the softness of leaves, and drinking the pure, fresh waters which flowed through the jungle or fell like liquid melodies from the skies high above the canopy. This had been their lives for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. This was the Chopec way.

Blair didn't have any delusions that he could find the way back to their camp on his own. He was lost before they had traveled five minutes through the jungle. Although the forest floor was relatively open, not the thick jungle growth usually portrayed in movies or on television, there were few distinct landmarks. After only minutes in the rainforest, all trees look alike.

He could only follow the Chopec, blindly trusting these men to lead them to the rest of their tribe. To lead them to help for Jim.

That was Blair's overwhelming desire - to find a way to bring Jim Ellison back. And it was a matter of bringing him back. For his sentinel was lost. Lost in an abyss of sound, sight, smell, taste, and touch. Only a short time before, Sandburg hadn't had the slightest clue how to help his friend. He was used to bringing Jim back from a zone out, that coma-like state he slipped into when he focused too deeply on one of his senses. This was something else entirely.

Now, however, there was hope. Hope in the form of a young, nearly naked Chopec warrior who promised to take them to a powerful shaman.

A shaman who knows what he's doing, Blair thought with more than a touch of bitterness. I was right. I never seem to be what Jim needs. Always coming up short. Doesn't matter if you call me guide or shaman or anamari. It's never enough. I'm never enough. He spat angrily on the ground, spitting out some of the dirt which had trickled into his mouth in the sweat which dripped down his face. Never enough.

They stopped abruptly. Without warning, they had arrived at the Chopec settlement. Small groups of people went about their daily tasks. Several women sat on the ground, working with scrapers to remove the hair from a large animal pelt. Children ran through the clearing and among the bordering trees, chasing each other with peals of laughter. Other women prepared sweet smelling fruits for the evening meal. Only a few men were visible. Blair guessed the others were out in the forest, hunting meat for their families.

As they entered the clearing, the activity and noise ceased immediately as curious brown eyes studied the strangers. From the edge of the settlement, a small, elderly man approached slowly. The rest of the Chopec stepped aside as he passed, their heads bowed in respect. "That is Imaru," Acana whispered to Blair.

The wizened face belied the youthfulness and energy in the twinkling black eyes. Smiling at them, Imaru spoke to Acana. The younger Chopec listened carefully, then turned to Sandburg and Banks.

"Imaru says welcome to our home. You are honored guests among the Chopec. We are pleased to have Enquiri back among us."

Blair glanced at Simon, waiting to see if the captain would take command of this situation as he had during their encounters with the military.

But, Simon Banks was experienced enough to know when to take charge and when to relinquish his command. He knew when he was out of his element. Simon nodded at Blair. "This is your area, Sandburg. Tell them I'm honored to be here. Then, you take it from there."

Sandburg flashed the older man a smile of gratitude, then turned his attention back to the ancient shaman. "We are honored to be here among the Chopec, Imaru. My name is Blair Sandburg, and this is Simon Banks."

He was interrupted by the old man's laughter, as he pointed at Blair. "Ankaree! Ankaree!"

Blair stared at Acana in disbelief. "He knows, too? How?"

The young Chopec grinned. "It was Imaru who told me of your spirit name. He knew you would be coming. He saw it in a vision."

Blair didn't have time to question this revelation before the shaman began to speak again. When he'd finished, Blair looked to Acana for the translation.

"He says that it is late. You need to rest. He knows what is wrong with Enquiri, and he can help."

Blair interrupted. "What do we need to do? How can he...?"

Imaru laid a gnarled hand on Blair's arm and spoke softly.

"Patience," translated Acana. "He says you must rest first. Then, you and he will talk."

Without another word, the elderly Chopec shaman turned and walked away.

Blair stared after him in frustration. He wanted to help Jim now, not later. But, this was not his world, and it was not his place to set the timetable. Like it or not, he would have to wait.

"Come," Acana said, leading them to the center of the settlement. "You must eat. Then, I will show you where you can sleep for the night. Tomorrow, Imaru will teach you how to help Enquiri."

At Blair's look of impatience, Acana shook his head. "Tomorrow. Tonight, food and rest." He grinned and nodded toward Jim. "Enquiri needs it, too. How do you say it? He looks...dead on his feet."

Blair looked closely at Jim. It was true. Although there was no slouch to the proud shoulders, the tiredness was obvious. Jim's eyes were red rimmed, as if he had been sleep deprived for days. Which he probably had been, considering the circumstances. Lines of fatigue etched tiny paths around his eyes. When Jim felt Blair's gaze, he turned, meeting his guide's eyes. He smiled a small, tired smile, and Blair felt his heart break. Even confused, overwhelmed, and exhausted, Jim never failed to try to support him, to encourage him.

Blair's voice cracked with his deeply felt emotion. "You're right, Acana. Tonight, we need to rest."

Nodding his approval, the young Chopec led the three friends to a quiet spot near the edge of the camp. A blazing fire was already crackling, and three woven mats were placed around it.

Before either of the three tired men had time to lower themselves to the mats, two Chopec approached, their faces set in looks of angry determination. Blair did not recognize either man as they strode up to Acana.

With animated gestures, the three young Chopec conversed for several minutes, their voices rising steadily. The two strangers motioned often toward the visitors, and it was obvious from the looks on their faces that they were not at all pleased with something about the three men from Cascade. At last, Acana shouted at the them one final time, and they departed as quickly as they had come, their eyes flashing angrily for all to see.

Blair touched Acana's elbow. "What was that all about?"

Their new friend shook his head sadly. "The older man is my brother, Asama. He and some of his friends do not like seeing strangers in our tribe. They are afraid that only evil will come of knowing outsiders. I tried to tell them that Enquiri is one of us, that his friends are our friends." Acana's eyes grew sad. "They do not believe my words. Asama and his friends think you should leave the Chopec now and go back to your own kind. They are afraid that others will follow you here, that we will lose more of our lands, that more of our people will die. I am sorry, Ankaree. This is not the way most Chopec feel. You are welcome here."

Blair glanced at Simon, who shrugged his shoulders with a look that said what can we do? The young anthropologist nodded in agreement.

"It's okay, Acana. Don't sweat it, man. If everything goes according to plan, we'll be out of here soon anyway, right?"

Relieved, the young Chopec smiled. "You are right. I do not believe that evil will follow you here. All will be well." With that he turned away and gestured toward some of the women waiting nearby. "Rest now, please. There will be food for you soon." Acana left the three friends alone.

Within minutes, three smiling young women brought a selection of fruits and freshly cooked meats, along with pottery bowls of fresh drinking water. Blair tried to thank them in his faltering Chopec, and they skittered away, giggling behind their hands.

Simon chuckled. "Guess your Chopec needs work, Sandburg." He settled down on a straw mat and stretched his long legs out gratefully. Nabbing a ripe banana, he peeled it, then smiled at the delicious, sweet flavor. Chiquita doesn't know what fresh really is.

Blair cut his eyes over to their captain and friend. "It's the thought that counts, Simon. Didn't your mother ever tell you that?" Blair followed Simon's example, settling down with a relieved sigh to rest and eat.

After taking a couple of bites of the tender meat served hot from the communal cooking fire, Blair turned his attention to Jim. The sentinel stood nearby, his attention focused on the jungle beyond the clearing where the Chopec lived. His entire body was still, the only movement coming from his head which slowly pivoted as he scanned the area for motion, sound, and smell. Jim had removed his torn and charred shirt, and now, the long gashes and angry burns on his broad chest and back were clearly visible.

Blair shook his head. "Look at him, Simon. You can see the pain he must be in from the crash and what he experienced, especially with his senses operating in high gear. But, he hasn't stopped that constant vigilance for a minute, except for what little sleep he got last night, and that wasn't much."

Banks studied the solitary form standing guard nearby. "Do you think you can get him to come over here and eat something? Maybe here, with all the Chopec around, he'll relax enough to eat and sleep."

Blair shrugged. "I can try. I don't know how much luck I'll have, though. So far, not much I've said has managed to get through to him. It's like he knows me, understands who I am, but not what I'm trying to tell him."

"Do you think he has amnesia?" Simon stared at the lonely sentinel gazing into the dusky evening light.

"No," Blair answered after a long pause. "Not amnesia. I've had that, and I just don't think that's it. Remember when you and Jim found me out in Colorado? I didn't have a clue. Didn't remember a thing. But, Jim knows me. He's willing to do anything to protect me. That doesn't fit amnesia. It's more like...he's forgotten everything except how to be a sentinel. He's operating on pure instinct." Blair sighed and stood up. "I'll try to get him over here with us, Simon. Just wait quietly and enjoy your dinner."

Jim turned at Blair's approach. "Hey, there," Sandburg said softly. "You doing okay here, big guy?" He reached out and ran his fingers along Jim's bare arm, carefully avoiding the cuts and burns. Jim stood still, yet Blair could feel the minute trembles of the powerful muscles as he stroked his friend's arm. His heart ached at the moving combination of strength and vulnerability that was Jim Ellison. "You're a bundle of nerves, aren't you? God, I wish I knew how to help you here, man." Realizing that it was the only gift he could give his friend at that moment, Blair kept his tone soft and reassuring. "But Acana thinks Imaru will be able to bring you back. I'm so sorry I don't know enough, that I don't know what to do here." He felt the tears of frustration gathering in his tired eyes. "I'm so sorry..." His head bowed, and he tried to fight the tears.

Internal alarms went off within him, and the sentinel took a step closer. His guide was upset and crying. Confused, he looked around, searching for whatever had disturbed the young man, but found nothing amiss. His nostrils flared as he smelled the sharp salt scent of Blair's tears; he felt the soft sobs echo deep within his own heart, saw the tiny quivers as his tired guide struggled to regain his composure, and heard the nearly silent hitches in his breathing. Every instinct within the sentinel commanded him to comfort, to protect his guide, and so, without conscious thought, he reached out, drawing Blair into his arms.

Gratefully, Sandburg melted into Jim's embrace, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his head into the powerful, bare chest. Somehow, though, the familiar comfort of Jim's arms only intensified Blair's heartache, and the pain broke free. He felt his tears running hot and steady down through the dirt and dust and sweat accumulated on Jim's skin. His shoulders heaved, and his fingers clinched and released against Jim's back as though trying to latch on and never let go. "I thought you were dead, man," he murmured. "Oh, God, Jim, I didn't think I'd ever see you again, and now, it's like you're here, but you're not here, and..." Realizing that he was rambling, Sandburg fell silent, just holding onto his friend while the tears flowed.

He felt Jim's hand stroke his hair, while the other hand anchored him against the sentinel. But no loving words were whispered in his ear, no meaningless sounds designed only to comfort. That realization broke Blair's heart, and he fought against his tears. Jim was trying so hard to help him, in the only way he could. It wasn't fair for Blair to need him so much right now, to need Jim's comfort, when Jim was the one who needed him. Jim had always been there for him, strong and steady. Now, it was his turn to be the strong one, to be there for his friend. He couldn't let Jim down. He would not let him down. It simply was not an option.

With a final, shuddering sob, Blair pulled back, just enough to gaze up into Jim's warm, questioning eyes. Sandburg wiped the tears away with the backs of his hands, then reached up to cup Jim's face. "It's okay, man," he whispered. "I'm all right. I guess I was just stressed, and I needed some release. But I'm all right, really. Thanks, Jim." And he smiled.

The sentinel studied his guide's face. The tears were gone, and a trembling smile curved the corners of his full mouth. His breathing was calm, and his heartbeat strong and steady. Jim leaned forward until his forehead rested on his guide's shoulder, then felt Blair's hand come up to stroke his own short cropped hair. He heard the soft, reassuring sounds, and though the words were incomprehensible, he felt the comfort they were designed to convey. When his guide turned back toward the fire, he followed willingly.

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

Chapter Six: Traditions

The sentinel slept. The exhaustion and pain of the past few days had caught up with him and last, and he could fight sleep no longer. So, now he rested, stretched out beside the fire with his guide sitting less than an arm's length away. In some unconscious part of his mind, he monitored the familiar heartbeat, its constant, beloved rhythm reassuring him as he slept.

Simon glanced from the sleeping sentinel to his guide. Blair hadn't spoken for a long time. He sat perfectly still, staring into the dancing tongues of flame. "Blair?"

Sandburg glanced at him. "Yeah, Simon?"

"You said you'd explain this name thing. Ankaree. What the hell is that all about anyway?"

Blair picked up a stick and drew aimless patterns in the soil. "A while back, I went on a vision quest. I can't tell you much about what happened. That weakens the power of the what I saw. But, I guess it's okay to tell you about my name."

"Your name is Ankaree? What the hell happened to 'Sandburg'?" Simon wasn't so sure he really wanted to hear the story. Visions, spirit guides, and the like weren't exactly subjects dear to his practical, disciplined heart. Yet, he had witnessed too much in the years since Blair and Jim had met to discount anything he heard now.

Blair laughed at that, the first real laugh Simon had heard from the kid since before Jim departed for Peru. "Funny, Simon. Yeah, Ankaree is my name. My spirit name. It was revealed to me in the mountains. It means the "one who interprets." That's what I do for Jim, y'know. I interpret. His senses, his dreams..." Sandburg's voice drifted away as he stared back into the fire.

Finally, Simon asked the question he'd been holding back the entire long day. "What happens if he doesn't get any better?" He nodded toward Jim. "What if this is the way he's going to stay? Permanently?"

There was no hesitation. "Then, he can't return to Cascade. He'd never survive there, not with the influx of sensory stimulation. It would drive him mad. He'd explode, and it's possible he'd hurt someone, if not himself. His best bet would be here with the Chopec. At least here, he understands all the things he senses. The Chopec understand him, and they respect him for his abilities."

For a long minute, there was only the crackling of the fire and the sounds of the night deep in the jungle. When he spoke at last, Simon's voice was quiet. "And you?"

The response was instantaneous. "My place is with him."

Banks stared at Sandburg. "You mean you'd stay here? In this jungle? Give up your career and your life? For what, Sandburg? A man who may never speak to you again? Is that what Jim would want for you? Do you really think he'd ask for that kind of sacrifice from you?"

Blair's tone was soft, yet the determination, the certainty, was unmistakable. "He doesn't have to ask, Simon, and it's no sacrifice. I wouldn't be giving up my life, can't you see that?" He quietly slid closer to his partner, reaching out to lay his hand atop Jim's. "He is my life," he whispered. "He has been for a long time now, Simon. I won't leave him. I can't."

"Because he needs you." The words were a statement, not a question.

"Yes, and because I need him. Just as much." Blair yawned and carefully stretched out beside Jim, facing the fire. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's likely to be a long day."

As Simon watched, the sentinel's arm came around Blair's chest to pull him closer to him in his sleep. Blair's eyes caught the firelight as he smiled at Simon. "My place is here, Simon," he whispered.

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

"He will teach you now," Acana told Blair. It was still early morning, and they had gathered beside a small stream near the Chopec settlement to talk with Imaru. Jim, Blair, and Simon sat on a fallen tree across from the old Shaman and his young interpreter. The morning mist still hugged the ground, and the sounds of morning bird calls filled the air.

Imaru spoke for long minutes, as Acana listened intently. Jim cocked his head, as if taking in every word, and Blair wondered how much of the conversation he understood. Maybe he could comprehend Chopec, even if English seemed beyond his grasp at the moment.

At last, Acana nodded. "Imaru says that Incacha has taught Enquiri well. He is a strong watchman. As you are a powerful anamari and shaman. You have much yet to learn, much growing to do, but the power is a seed within you. Together, you will both grow in your powers."

"You wear the pendants of watchman and anamari. Sentinel and guide."

Blair unconsciously fingered the stone pendant around his neck, and as though one, Jim reached for his own as well.

"Incacha was right to give them to you. Yet, not being Chopec, you have not undergone all the training and ceremonies required. Even so, you seem to have learned much and have grown together as one as you should. But, one important step must be taken if Enquiri is to regain control of his gifts."

Acana paused, listening again to Imaru. Blair leaned forward, anxious to hear the next words.

"You must take the shared vision journey which binds the watchman and his anamari as one."

Blair interrupted, "If you mean that we must be bonded, I think, with all respect, Imaru, that we've already done that. We're close. We've accepted our roles in each other's lives."

Acana translated, and Blair was surprised to hear Imaru chuckle as he responded.

"He knows the depths of your love for each other, Ankaree. That is not the purpose of the shared vision." He held out his hands, palms facing, before him. "Once, you were here." He moved his palms closer, until they touched. "As you have grown closer, you are now here. The shared vision will bring you here." He entwined his fingers and curled them down, joining his hands together.

Blair stared at Imaru, his eyes intent. "And how is this done?"

The old man spoke. Acana nodded, then translated. "Imaru will take you to the Temple of the Watchmen and Anamari. There, you will enter the sacred pools."

Blair's eyes widened in amazement. "Pools? A temple?" He turned to his captain in excitement. "He's talking about a temple and pools like we found in Mexico! My God, Simon..." His voice trailed off as words failed him.

Acana watched him curiously. "You know of the temple, Ankaree?"

"Not your temple, Acana; one in another place. I didn't go into the pools. That was a temple only for sentinels. Jim did, though, and had visions. He..." Blair hesitated, remembering how shaken his friend had been after the visions he had seen. "Some of them were disturbing to him."

Acana nodded as if there was nothing at all surprising in Blair's words. "I do not know the purpose of that temple. Nothing here should be frightening to him or to you. It is right for you to go there. Perhaps he had to face those fearful visions to prepare him for the union of your spirits in this place."

Simon laid a reassuring hand on Sandburg's arm. "That makes a lot of sense, Sandburg. From what Jim told me of his visions in Mexico, they helped him face his greatest fear." He did not have to say more. They both knew what that fear was.

"Losing me," Blair whispered. He leaned closer to Jim. "Even though he saw death and pain and suffering in those visions, in the end, his greatest fear was facing all the ways he might lose me. He told me that I was his light. That without me, he could not face the darkness."

Acana had been translating for Imaru. Now, the old shaman spoke again. After a moment, Acana spoke his words in English.

"Enquiri was correct. You are the one who lights his path, and his fear of losing you would be great. Soon, there will be no more need for fear. Those who are one, cannot be separated."

Simon murmured, "Those whom God has joined together, let no man put asunder."

Blair cut his eyes over at his captain and friend. "We're not getting married here, man. Just... I don't know, bonded, I guess."

"Same basic principle, isn't it, Sandburg? Maybe even more binding than marriage vows. I mean, Jim and Carolyn divorced, but I can't visualize him ever letting you go, willingly or not. Bonded, joined, whatever words you use, the bottom line is, you're agreeing to spend the rest of your life with Jim in a relationship that defies explanation."

Blair stared at the ground, his eyes worried. "I have no qualms about making that choice for myself, Simon. Hell, I made it a long time ago. But do I have the right to make the decision for Jim? I mean, he won't understand what he's facing when he enters that pool. Oh, he'll do it, because I ask it of him. But... Can I allow him to make such a commitment when he doesn't really know what he's doing?"

Simon smiled softly. "Blair, he's already made the decision, too. Take it from one who has witnessed the proof. Jim Ellison has no intention of living his life without you." His mind recalled all too vividly the heart wrenching scene in the early morning hours on the Rainier campus, the grief and soul deep denial in Ellison's voice as he cried out for his partner.

Shaking his head slightly to clear away the painful memories, Simon whispered, "You may be leading him into that pool, Blair, but it won't be anything that Jim wouldn't choose willingly for himself, if he was capable of making that choice right now. Don't worry about that."

As he considered Simon's words, the doubt slowly faded from Blair's eyes. "All right, Acana, what's the first step?"

Although he wasn't sure exactly what had transpired during the conversation between Banks and Sandburg, Acana understood that the decision was made. A sentinel and guide were to undergo the joining ceremony. He grinned. "First, you fast until tonight. This will purify your bodies to prepare them for the pools. You will bathe in the river. Then, your bodies will be painted with symbols