Rated PG-13 for some language.

TIME GATE SERIES
#1: A Matter of Timing

Fidus Amicus

Sentinel Jim Ellison crossed his arms to mask the tremors skating through him. "It's only a matter of time," he murmured.

General Simon Banks glanced at him. His usual scowl was replaced by a worried grimace. "You or this?" He lifted his chin, the gesture encompassing the large, high-ceilinged lab a mile beneath the earth's surface and the two dozen or so white-jacketed technicians working an array of computers.

"Both." Ellison rubbed his brow, hoping to ease the throbbing headache but knew only one thing would help -- the one thing he didn't have anymore. He addressed the least difficult part of Banks' question. "We can't keep this place hidden forever."

"It was hidden for years before we discovered it. We've kept Freedom activity in this area to a minimum and only a select few actually know what's down here."

The sentinel knew all that, but there was an itch at the back of his neck that couldn't be scratched or ignored. "Maybe." He suddenly grimaced as his hearing spiked then dropped in a matter of seconds.

The general laid his hand on Ellison's shoulder and Jim flinched, stepping away.

Simon sighed. "I guess that answers my question. You haven't been taking your medication."

Jim gritted his teeth. His senses were ping-ponging in spite of the stultifying drugs. "I take the damned pills but they make me groggy and don't work half the time. It won't be long until they don't do anything at all. It would've been better if I'd died with Gil."

"Feeling sorry for yourself, are you?"

Jim's face burned with embarrassment under Simon's sardonic tone. He did sound like some spineless goober. "It's just that after training for so long with Gil for this mission, I feel like the rug -- hell, the whole damned floor -- was pulled out from under me."

"Losing Gil was a tragedy, but you know as well as me that he would've been the first person to help you find a new guide."

Jim glanced away, his thoughts turning to his dead friend and guide. He and Gil Bradley had run many successful missions together against the Confederate. Each would've died protecting the other, but Gil's death had been far from heroic -- his heart had simply stopped one night. By the time Jim's senses realized something was wrong and he'd awakened, it'd been too late. Why hadn't he known something was wrong with his guide earlier? Even though Dr. Chang told him nothing could've saved Gil, it didn't make Jim's guilt any less.

"If a guide is found by any of the incursion teams, they'll let us know," Simon reassured.

Jim blinked back to the present and frowned at the general. "Most of the renegade guides are either crazy or broken. The chance I'll find a sane, much less compatible one among the rennies is damned near zero." He squeezed the bridge of his nose. He knew he was being unfair to the abused Confederate guides, but he hated feeling so helpless. Besides, if he didn't find a guide before the meds completely stopped working, his sanity would be lost, which left the only humane option for a guideless sentinel -- euthanasia.

Jim shook aside the depressing thoughts and focused on the large metallic ring at the front of the technology filled room. "Have you decided who the first team through the gate will be?"

Simon clenched his jaw. "I still want you to be the first."

"Not without a guide." Bitterness bled into his tone. "Rafe and Brown would be the best choice."

"No," Simon said firmly. "You have the most training and knowledge, and you're the most experienced in covert operations. If our plan is going to succeed, we need you to go first. Which means you need to find a guide and soon."

Although Jim appreciated his friend's support, he knew Simon wasn't being realistic. Finding a compatible guide in such a short time was about as probable as the Freedom fighters defeating the Confederate in open warfare.

Jim rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Dr. Joel Taggart and his assistant Dr. Megan Conner run tests on the electronic equipment that controlled the time gate. With Gil, Jim had believed they had a chance to achieve the impossible -- go back in time to change the outcome of the Eugenics War. One of the results of the war had been to bring slavery back to the world in the form of guides, those people with abnormally high empathy who kept the sentinels from being overwhelmed by their senses.

Sentinel Ellison, General Simon Banks, Dr. Joel Taggart, Dr. Megan Conner, Sentinel Rafe and Guide Brown were part of an underground group determined to change the government and give every individual the freedom to make their own decisions. Although the resistance was small in number, they made up for it in scientific aptitude. Unlike the Confederate which frowned upon technical advancements, Freedom members were encouraged to stretch their scientific knowledge.

For the past year, a group of Freedom physicists and engineers had been deciphering the workings of a time machine which had been built nearly two hundred years ago. They hoped to send a sentinel and guide team back in time. The theory was that if they could change a few key historical events, it would alter the outcome of the war. Sentinel Ellison and his guide were chosen to be the vanguard team. But Gil had died a month ago, which left Jim guideless and forced to depend on dampening drugs to keep from zoning and to hold on to his sanity. It was a temporary reprieve, for without a guide Jim would die in a matter of weeks.

Banks' communicator beeped and he tugged it off his belt. "Banks."

"Gold squad has returned from recon, General. I think you might want to come down here," Sergeant Cole said.

Simon exchanged a sharp glance with Jim. "I'm on my way," Simon said into his palm-sized communicator.

He nodded to Jim and the two men strode across the large room and out the security door. They rode the elevator up ten stories and entered the debriefing room. Major Lynhart, leader of Gold team, was still dressed in his dusty brown jumpsuit and his face was grime-streaked. He snapped a sharp salute to Banks and Ellison. Although Jim didn't have a military rank, the title of Sentinel was enough to spark respect.

"How did it go?" Simon asked. "Was anybody hurt?"

Lynhart shook his head but tension radiated from him and Jim heard the major's rapid heartbeat and smelled his nervous excitement. "No, sir, no injuries. However, you might be interested in what we found." He turned his gaze to Ellison. "A rennie."

Despite his opinion about renegade guides, Jim couldn't stifle the hope the announcement elicited. The rebel sentinels relied on three types of guides: those who joined Freedom after their empathy came on-line; those born into the group, which were rare; and those rescued from their oppressors, which was even rarer. Out of those rescued over the past five years, only one had paired up with a Freedom sentinel. The other renegade guides were too traumatized and depleted mentally and emotionally after being owned by a Confederate sentinel.

"What's his condition?" Jim asked.

"Hard to tell, Sentinel. Physically he seems fine, but it's hard to judge his mental condition when he doesn't speak. His bracelet identified him as Guide Blair Sandburg."

"Where is he now?" Banks asked.

"In the med area. Serena is checking him over. I left a guard but I don't think he'll be a problem."

Suddenly the lights went out and blue lights began to strobe. Because of the sentinels' presence, no klaxons were used in the underground bunker. Banks' communicator beeped.

"Banks," he snapped.

"We have a rennie loose in the facility," the voice announced.

"What happened?" Banks asked impatiently.

"He managed to create a diversion in the med area then slipped past the guard."

"What direction is he headed?"

"He was seen taking the elevator down to the control area. He has Dr. Chang's ID card."

Banks swore. "He is not to be harmed. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

The general snapped his communicator shut, and he and Jim ran back in the direction they'd come. As they charged through the narrow corridor and into the elevator, a voice spoke through the intercom.

"Alert, alert. There is a renegade guide loose in the facility. If you see him, report in immediately. Do not, I repeat, do not injure the guide."

As soon as the elevator opened on the lowest level, Jim and Simon sprinted back to the control room and skidded to a stop. The general swept his card through the electronic reader and the doors whooshed open, revealing a man with long tangled hair wearing faded, tattered clothing and holding a knife against Megan's neck. New and old bruises covered his face and arms with a colorful array of blue, purple and yellow. He wore a metal bracelet identifying him as a Confederate guide.

Jim stumbled to a stop, his gaze riveted to the rennie. As he stared at him, he could feel the guide's chaotic emotions drawing him in. It disconcerted the sentinel then made him angry. Was he so needy for a guide that he was reaching out to mentally embrace this panic-stricken young man? But even as he told himself to pull away, he was swept back into Sandburg's fear and desperation.

"Jim," Simon hissed. "Snap out of it."

The sentinel shook his head, dissipating the cloud of fright. Remembering how he used to soothe an overwhelmed Gil he took a deep breath and tried to project calmness to the frightened guide.

Sandburg snapped his attention to Jim, his dark blue eyes pinning the sentinel. "Stop it!" he shouted. "Get out of my head!"

The pain in the young guide's voice made Jim flinch but he drew closer. "No one's going to hurt you," Jim reassured, holding up his empty hands. "We brought you here to give you your freedom."

Sandburg narrowed his eyes but the hand holding the knife to Megan's neck didn't waver. "You're lying."

Jim shook his head slowly. "You're an empath. Am I lying?"

The young man clenched his teeth. "Don't play games with me. I know you're a sentinel and I know what you want. You aren't going to get me."

Jim flinched inwardly. Sandburg was brought here to possibly become a guide. "You're right. I am a sentinel. But I'm not like the ones in the Confederate. I'm part of a group that believes sentinels and guides are equal, not master and slave."

"I've been a sentinel's guide and it sucks, man." His hand trembled and Jim could feel his exhaustion and despair. "I'll kill myself before that happens again."

Jim's gaze zeroed in on the knife and he noticed Sandburg held the dull side against Megan's neck. Had he done it intentionally? Or was he just so far gone he didn't realize it? He held out his hands imploringly. "You have a choice here, Chief. If you don't want to be a guide, you don't have to be one. It's true you were brought here in the hopes you might help a sentinel, but nobody is going to force you to do anything. It'll be your decision." Jim held the young man's eyes. "You have my word."

"A sentinel's word is worth nothing." Sandburg's nostrils flared and he closed his eyes momentarily. When he opened them, the hopelessness in his blue eyes alarmed Jim. "I won't let anyone own me again."

Suddenly he shoved Megan aside and brought the knife to his own throat. This time Sandburg had the sharp edge to his throat. Jim reacted instinctively, reaching for the young man's arm and twisting it behind his back. The guide yelped in pain as the knife clattered to the tile. He collapsed and Jim caught him, slowly lowering him to the floor.

"Megan, are you all right?" Simon asked anxiously as he helped her to her feet.

"Just dandy. I should've gotten the knife from him," she said with self-reproach. "The bugger's scared half to death."

Joel squatted down beside Jim and the unconscious guide. "How is he?"

Jim cradled Sandburg in his arms, feeling the heat radiating from his too-thin body. Jim's nose twitched and he realized Sandburg had an open wound that reeked of blood and infection. For a moment, he had the overwhelming urge to pick up the guide and carry him away, to someplace safe, where he could care for his injuries himself. "His heart's racing. I think he might be going into shock."

"You feel a connection to him, don't you?" Simon asked softly.

Jim lifted his head to meet Simon's concerned gaze and nodded reluctantly.

"But he might not want to be your guide."

Jim chuckled, although there was no humor in the sound. "No maybe about it, Simon. He doesn't want to be anyone's guide ever again."

The silence was broken by the arrival of a rolling gurney. Jim lifted Sandburg onto it, nearly growling when a medic stepped forward to help.

Rafe grabbed the medic's arm, drawing him back. "Jim's got him," he said softly.

Jim gave his fellow sentinel a curt nod, grateful for Rafe's intervention. Although it was irrational, Jim felt a fierce protectiveness toward the injured guide. Keeping his hand on Sandburg's arm, he accompanied him back to the med area.

"So how is he?" Jim demanded, halting his frantic pacing outside the examination room.

Serena shook her head, her lips thinned. "Like most of them when they're brought in -- dehydrated and undernourished."

"What about the wounds on his back?"

"Probably from a whip, administered two, maybe three days ago. There was some infection setting in so I started him on a heavy dose of antibiotics. He also has scarring on his torso from older beatings, as well as his ankles and wrists from shackles," she answered.

Although her tone was clinical, Jim knew she was upset by the guide's condition. She'd come over to the Freedom side after she'd been ordered to vivisect a rebellious guide to learn more about their empathic gifts.

Jim clenched his fists at his sides. Although he hadn't even known Blair Sandburg until an hour ago, he felt the need to strike down those who'd hurt him. He breathed deeply to dispel the murderous impulse.

"I'm giving him an IV with fluids and nutrients and I'm keeping him sedated for twenty-four hours. He needs the sleep to heal. He'll feel a hundred percent better when he wakes up," Serena reassured. She gazed at Jim, kindness filling her dark eyes. "Normally I'd say no visitors, but in this case, you can stay with him for a little while."

"Thanks," Jim said gruffly to hide his gratitude.

He entered the dim room and drew a chair next to the med-bed, then allowed his senses to examine the young guide's condition. However, he didn't go too deeply into Sandburg, afraid he'd accidentally initiate a bond. To do so would be to violate the helpless guide. Jim could still recall with startling clarity the abhorrence for sentinels that radiated from Sandburg. He'd felt his hatred like a physical blow. It disheartened Jim, but he would never break the basic tenet of the group he'd sworn his allegiance -- every person was created equal. Nobody could force another to do his will.

Once he was certain Sandburg was resting peacefully, Jim leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He closed his eyes, hoping to banish the encroaching headache. Fortunately, it was stress-related rather than sense-related. Simply being near Sandburg made his senses manageable.

Some time later, when silence filled the facility, Simon entered the medical bay. Jim roused himself from the half-sleep he'd fallen into and started to rise.

"No, stay there," Simon said, motioning for him to remain seated. "How's he doing?"

Jim shrugged. "Better. Serena gave him a sedative, and she's pumping antibiotics, fluids, and nutrients into him."

Simon studied Jim. "How're you?"

"Fine."

"Did you take your medication?"

"I didn't have to," Jim replied. "Just being near the kid keeps my senses in line."

"You know that'll probably change once he wakes up." Simon sighed. "I have a feeling Guide Sandburg won't want to be in the same room with a sentinel."

Jim shook his head in disgust. "Can you blame him? In the Confederate, sentinels have as much concern for their guides as they do for a dog. Hell, less. I have a feeling the physical wounds are nothing compared to the emotional ones."

"I read Serena's report. Kid's lived some kind of hell." He opened the folder in his hands. "Background came back on him. Sandburg was a latent guide. He was registered eight months ago. He was owned by a sentinel named Kincaid, who by the looks of it is a real son of a bitch."

"'Is'? He's still alive?"

Simon nodded. "He's a colonel in the Confederate forces. His specialty is--" he paused, swallowing tightly. "Interrogation."

Jim thought for a moment then snapped his fingers. "I remember him." He rose and began to pace, his stomach churning with evoked memories. "When I got back from the mission where I was lost for over a year, they sent me to one of their debriefing centers. There was a Captain Kincaid there. From what I heard, I was damned lucky I didn't get him to debrief me."

"Wasn't it soon after that when you came over to our side?"

His jaw clenched, Jim nodded. When the Confederate military realized Jim's sentinel abilities had come on-line, they began his training. The first guide they'd chosen for him was nearly whipped to death because he had trouble bringing Jim out of a zone. The second one was fairly new and had to be put back in training because she wouldn't walk behind Jim. He'd toured one of their training centers and found them more like a torture chamber than a school.

"I wasn't going to let them use me as an excuse to brutalize guides," Jim said, his tone bitter.

"That's when my team found you, more dead than alive. Thank heavens we had Gil with us on that assignment."

Gil Bradley had drawn Jim out of his near-lethal zone and helped him with his senses. Although they weren't an exact Sentinel and Guide match, they were close enough to create a bond and work together. Among the twenty-three full sentinels within the entire rebel organization, none had found his or her perfectly compatible guide. Rafe and Brown were as close as Jim had ever seen.

Jim stopped his nervous pacing by Sandburg's med-bed. He stared down at the young guide. One of the nurses had tied his hair back with a band. There were sooty smudges beneath his eyes, telling Jim that Sandburg had been on the run for some time, probably since he'd been whipped. How had he escaped Kincaid? Was Kincaid searching for him? Or had the colonel simply gone to the Guide Training Center and found another hapless guide to exploit until he or she was used up?

Simon smiled. "I have some good news. I just received notice that a latent guide has joined Freedom. She's from Portland. Two of the local cell members are escorting her here. I'm expecting them to arrive by morning. Maybe she'll work out."

Although Jim inwardly railed against any other guide but this one lying so still on the med-bed, he nodded. "We'll see."

Simon's expression sobered. "When Guide Sandburg wakes up I'll talk to him. Maybe I can convince him to at least meet with you then you can use some of that Ellison charm on him."

Jim smiled wryly. Both he and Simon knew Jim's penchant for blunt honesty left no room for charm. "Right."

Simon laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Why don't you get some sleep? Serena will let us know when he wakes up."

"I'll stay here."

"I don't think that's a good idea. When he wakes up, he's not going to want a sentinel hovering over him," Simon said, his voice authoritative.

Jim took a deep breath. "All right. But I don't want to take any of those damn pills."

"What if you fall into a zone?" Simon asked.

"Brown can bring me out, even if it's with a right uppercut," Jim said with a wry smile. Henri Brown was officially Rafe's guide, but he was put on back-up for Jim after Gil had died. Before he'd started taking the dampening meds, Jim had gone into a level three zone, the worst kind. Brown had tried to gently draw him back using voice and touch. Nothing had worked until Brown had followed Simon's order and punched him.

Simon had the grace to look abashed but his tone was gruff. "It worked, didn't it?"

Jim merely grunted.

He grounded his senses one last time in Sandburg's presence and, after giving the guide's shoulder a gentle squeeze, Jim followed Simon out of the med area.

Blair waved at his mother as he ran toward her. Naomi smiled back, but there was sadness in her expression, which frightened him. Blair made his legs pump faster, but no matter how fast he went Naomi never got closer. Her smile disappeared and her lips moved. Blair couldn't hear the words, but he felt them.

"I love you, sweetie. Goodbye."

Then she turned away and the mist enveloped her.

With him mother's name on his lips, Blair's eyes flew open.

"Take it easy. You're safe here." Although the voice was soft and gentle, it wasn't Naomi's.

Blair jerked his head around to see a dark-haired woman wearing a white lab coat. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her. He glanced down to see he was in a bed... a real bed. He swept his frantic gaze around the neat, clean-smelling area. It looked like a med center -- one that sentinels and norms went to. Not one where a guide was allowed.

"You're probably a little confused right now," the woman said in the same soothing manner.

"Understatement," Blair murmured.

The woman laughed, shocking him. "It's nice to see you still have your sense of humor." She abruptly sobered. "After everything they did to you..." She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"Wha-- Where am I?" Blair asked the first question that surfaced out of the hundreds racing through his brain.

"With a Freedom group."

His eyes widened and he studied his surroundings with something akin to awe. "You mean you guys really exist?"

The woman smiled with a hint of humor. "Oh, yes, we definitely exist. I'm Dr. Serena Chang. One of our teams brought you in yesterday."

He tried to remember but could only find vague pictures and vaguer memories. However, the soreness of his back reminded him why he'd run.

"I treated your physical injuries and gave you an IV filled with nutrients and antibiotics." Anger flashed in her expression. "Did Sentinel Kincaid give you all those beatings?"

Blair tensed, his awe turning to dread in less than a heartbeat. What if this was merely another one of Kincaid's cruel games? He hated to read peoples' emotions intentionally -- it was a personal violation -- but in this case, he might have to make an exception. "If this is a rebel base, how did you know Kincaid was my master?"

"We got your name from your bracelet and ran it through a Confederate computer, which our people have been able to hack into." She paused. "You truly are free, Guide--"

"Don't call me that!" His chest felt tight and he could barely breathe. His right hand covered the guide slave bracelet. "My name is Blair Sandburg."

Dr. Chang studied him a moment then nodded thoughtfully. "All right, Mr. Sandburg. Whatever you prefer."

"I prefer to get out of here."

"Where would you go?"

Her question stopped him short. "Uh, out there. Away."

"Away from the Confederate? Away from us?"

"Yes."

She shrugged, but disappointment was plain on her face. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Mr. Sandburg. Your file said you have a Masters degree in history as well as anthropology. We could use someone like you on our team."

"The academic or the guide?" Blair couldn't prevent his bitterness from spilling into his voice.

"Both, actually," a man replied.

Blair tensed as a tall black man joined them. He wore what looked like a tan uniform with one pale gold star on his collar.

"But if you prefer to use only your academic background, we won't have a problem with that," the general added.

He gazed at Blair through wire-rimmed glasses, which Blair never saw except when he looked at his own reflection. The Confederate frowned on corrective lenses because they were a sign of physical weakness. But Blair had worn them simply because he didn't care what anyone thought. Of course, that had all changed when his empathy had surfaced....

"I'm General Simon Banks," the man said, sticking his hand out.

Blair stared at it, wondering what kind of trick this was. A guide was never offered the same courtesies as everyone else. But there was no hint of treachery in the general's face.

Hesitantly, he reached forward and placed his smaller hand in the general's. Banks' handshake was firm but not overpowering and despite Blair's shields, he felt a wave of confidence and sincerity from the powerful man.

"Blair Sandburg," he said, his voice raspy.

"Nice to meet you, Sandburg. You probably have a hundred questions for us."

"More like a thousand."

Banks chuckled and Blair's muscles began to relax.

"I don't know if I have time to answer a thousand, but we'll see how many we can get to," Banks said.

Blair still wasn't certain if they were actually the good guys or if this was an elaborate trick. But they knew he was a guide, so they should realize he could sense their deception.

"Go ahead," General Banks said. "We don't mind if you read us."

How had he known what Blair had been thinking? It didn't matter. He was given permission so he wasn't violating them. Drawing a deep breath, he lowered his barriers carefully and expanded his aura, watching his characteristic hues of turquoise, blue, and green drift toward Banks and Chang. Banks' own aura -- red, dark blue, and yellow -- pulsed with the same self-assurance the general exhibited. Dr. Chang's colors were warmer -- violet, light greens and blues -- indicative of her compassion and a nurturing nature. Blair wanted only to wrap himself within the pulsating colors, but he drew back.

"You're both telling the truth," Blair said quietly.

General Banks crossed his arms. "We are part of the group called Freedom. One of our teams found you and brought you back here. The bracelet around your wrist told us your name and that you were a guide in the Confederate. We have a small group of sentinels within our ranks and all but one of them has a guide."

"Lucky them," Blair said, his lips curled in bitter cynicism.

"Oh, they are. Our sentinel and guides are equals. It's a true partnership, not like where you came from, son," Banks explained. "We don't force guides to pair with a sentinel. Our pairs are together because they choose to be."

Blair wanted to believe him -- ached to believe him -- but he'd learned firsthand what becoming a guide to a sentinel was all about. He wanted nothing to do with any of the arrogant bastards. Just because their senses were heightened didn't mean they were gods. "I choose not to be."

Disappointment shown in both Banks' and Chang's faces. Now Blair would find out if they truly believed in equality, even for guides. He braced himself for the abuse to begin.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sandburg," Banks said gently, as if he meant it. "There's an unbound sentinel right outside the med center who wanted to talk to you."

Blair's breath stammered in his throat and his gaze cut to the door and back to the general. Now that he was aware, he could feel the sentinel's presence, like an irritating buzz running through him that fueled his fear. "If you really meant what you said about giving me a choice, then get him out of here. I don't want him anywhere near me." Much to Blair's mortification, his voice shook.

Banks sighed heavily. "You heard him, Jim," he said.

Blair frowned. Jim must be the sentinel's name. Almost instinctively, Blair extended his empathy and brushed the sentinel. Disappointment and a hint of fear vibrated along the connection. He quickly pulled back, unable to deal with the confusing mix of emotions. All of the Confederate sentinels he'd had contact with radiated arrogance and chilling cruelty, but this one... This one was different.

"Are you hungry, Mr. Sandburg?" Dr. Chang asked.

Blair blinked, startled out of his reverie, and replied cautiously. "I could eat."

"I'll have someone bring a tray from the dining hall." She pressed a button on the wall beside the bed and ordered a meal for him.

"I'd like to stay and chat, but I have a meeting in five minutes," Banks said. "I'll send up someone to discuss your options with you. Until you've made a decision, I'm afraid I have to confine you to the med area."

"I thought you said I was free," Blair said, his breath catching in his throat.

Banks smiled slightly. "You're freer than you were in the Confederate. But if you don't plan to join us, it wouldn't be in our best interests to give you carte blanche."

Blair relaxed, understanding Banks' reason. "All right. Thank you for, uh, rescuing me."

"You're welcome. Now rest and regain your strength."

Banks turned to leave but Blair's voice stilled him.

"General Banks. Could someone remove this?" Blair asked, holding up his left wrist which held the hated guide bracelet.

The soldier's expression gentled. "Of course." He glanced at Dr. Chang. "Serena?"

She nodded without hesitation. "I'll take care of it." She looked at Blair. "Whenever you're ready, I can get it off."

Hot tears burned Blair's eyes and he blinked rapidly to restrain them. "Thank you, Dr. Chang," he said with a husky voice. "General Banks."

"You're welcome, son." Then the general strode out of the med area, the automatic door opening as he neared it. When it slid open, Blair caught a glimpse of a man almost as tall as Banks with short hair and rigid features. For a moment, Blair's eyes met the stranger's... and he knew this was the sentinel named Jim.

"He won't do it," Banks said unnecessarily as he and Jim walked down the corridor, away from the med center.

"You didn't try very hard," Jim groused.

"Would you have pushed him?"

Remembering the anguish in the guide's voice, Jim shook his head. "No. He has every right to be skittish. I did some more research on Kincaid. Sandburg was his guide for six months, longer than any other guide had lasted with the bastard."

Banks and Jim stopped by the elevator and pushed the Up button.

"I know you're nothing like Kincaid, but Sandburg doesn't and we don't have the right to push him into a sentinel-guide partnership," Simon said. "Maybe if he joins us and sees Rafe and Brown together, as well as our other pairs, he'll see that it's different here."

The elevator doors opened and Jim and Simon walked in. Simon punched Level 1 and the elevator moved upward.

"Meanwhile, what am I supposed to do?" Jim asked, a touch of little boy orneriness in his tone.

"You keep an open mind with this guide from Portland. Maybe she'll work out just fine."

Although Jim didn't believe it, he nodded to appease Simon. Frustration knotted his gut. The Portland trio had arrived an hour ago and were given quarters to freshen up before the meeting. Jim hadn't seen the guide; in fact, he had no interest in any guide but Sandburg.

The elevator halted and the two men exited. Fifteen feet down the hall Simon paused by a door. "Ready?"

Jim shrugged. "Sure."

Simon frowned at his less-than-enthusiastic response, but led the way into the meeting room. Two men wearing the usual work trousers and shirt of Confederate norms turned to face Jim and Simon. The third person in the room was a pretty woman with short, auburn hair. Intelligence shone in her eyes as she surveyed Jim.

The sentinel sniffed and smelled the faintest scent of pheromones. The female guide obviously liked what she saw. There was no doubt she was attractive, but their initial connection was weaker than his and Gil's had been. And much weaker than he'd felt with the rennie Blair Sandburg.

"General Banks, Sentinel Ellison, it's good to see you again." Gregory, the older of the two men, stepped forward to shake Simon's, then Jim's hands.

"It's a pleasure," Gregory's son Nate said with a smile.

"Same here," Simon said genially.

Jim merely nodded.

"I'm Guide Carolyn Plummer," she said, stepping forward. Her gaze remained locked on Jim.

He took her hand in his, surprised by the firmness of her handshake. "Sentinel Jim Ellison."

She laughed lightly. "I know."

Jim's face heated under her teasing. Until Gil had died, Jim had been part of Blue team, participating in incursion raids against the Confederate military. There'd been little time for female companionship and his contact with women had mainly been on a professional level. He and Dr. Megan Conner had gone out once or twice, but decided they made better friends.

But if Carolyn became his guide they'd be together ninety percent of the time. Often times, opposite gender sentinel/guide pairs ended up married. Jim, however, had never seen marriage in his future.

"So your empath abilities just came on-line?" Simon asked her, obviously trying to ease the tension.

She turned to him. "That's right, General. About a month ago."

"No offense, but you seem a little old even for a latent empath," Jim said.

She pursed her lips into a pout. "I'm not that old."

"What do you do?" Simon asked, hoping to draw her attention away from Jim's cool reception.

"I'm a lab technician at the Portland Med Center."

"You're still working there?" Jim interjected.

She nodded. "Until today."

"Once their abilities kick in, most latent empaths have to quit their jobs."

"I know," she said with a grimace. "I had a friend who was a latent guide. I watched her struggle to hide her new abilities, but they found out." She paused, her expression somber. "I haven't seen her since they took her away two years ago."

"Is that why you want to join the Freedom group?" Simon asked.

She nodded vehemently. "Yes. Any society that can take away a person like she was an animal is wrong."

"But you're willing to become a guide to a sentinel?"

"As long as I can choose." Her gaze swept across Jim, her meaning clear. She wanted to be his guide... and more.

"The sentinel has a choice, too," Jim said, his lips drawn downward.

Guide Plummer touched his arm and he felt the barest flicker of a connection between them. "You're not happy with me," she stated.

Jim drew away from her touch. "I'm not sure. I'd like to think about it."

"I can wait."

"Why don't you go back to your rooms and rest?" Simon suggested to the visitors. "Sentinel Ellison will give you his decision this evening at dinner."

Jim stifled his irritation with his boss and nodded as Guide Plummer and her companions were escorted out by two security guards. She turned and smiled at him.

"She's attractive," Simon said once they were alone in the conference room.

"I suppose."

"You could do a lot worse."

Jim glared at Simon. "I could do a lot better, too."

Simon's attempt at appeasement disappeared and he scowled at the sentinel. "You have to be practical here, Jim. Sandburg does not want to be your guide. Short of forcing him, you either have to keep taking the drugs and eventually die or accept Guide Plummer's help."

"Or just let a zone take me."

"Dammit, Jim, that's not an option."

Jim leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. "I need a guide who can go into the field and stand beside me. She's a lab tech. I'm willing to bet she doesn't know a damned thing about self-defense or using a weapon."

"You can teach her."

Jim shifted uncomfortably. "The link is weak."

"You're fighting her, Jim. If you'd just let her help you, it'd work out fine."

Jim shoved away from the wall. "She wants me in bed."

Simon's mouth dropped open then he threw back his head and laughed. "And you know this how?"

"Pheromones," Jim growled. "And that shark look in her eyes."

"You're a good looking man and women are going to react on an instinctive level," Simon said, then added wryly, "at least, that's what Megan says."

Jim couldn't help but shake his head as his face heated with embarrassment. "I don't know if I can trust her."

"We've done a full background check on her. From what we've found, she is who she says she is."

"That's not what I meant. Is she going to act like a guide or a woman? Is she going to take advantage of me?"

Simon chuckled. "I've never known Jim Ellison to be afraid of a woman taking advantage of him."

Jim swore. "It's not funny, Simon. She's a guide. She'd know what to do to make me, well, do things."

"She's only been a guide for a month. It sounds to me like you'll be teaching her, rather than her controlling you."

Jim studied his friend. "You want me to pair with her, don't you?"

"I want you to be able to use your senses without fear. I want you to be the first sentinel through the time gate."

Simon made a good argument, especially since he knew Jim was hungry to go back in time and make a difference. Jim rubbed his brow. "All right. I'll give it a try."

Simon slapped his shoulder. "Good. We can meet in the dining hall at six and give Guide Plummer your decision."

Jim nodded and watched Simon leave the room. Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to ease the tension in his muscles. He'd make a sincere attempt to pair with Guide Plummer. He owed Simon that much.

Now if only his senses would stop searching for Sandburg.

Three days later Blair followed Dr. Chang down a corridor on level twelve to his new living quarters. He'd made his decision. Although he didn't want to be a guide, he did want to help the rebels in any way he could. He was shocked to learn that there was actually a section where his background in history and anthropology would fit in perfectly.

Much of history had been lost during and after the Eugenics War -- books burned and data erased from the remaining computer systems. The Confederate had rewritten history and taught their own twisted version and very few questioned the validity. Those who did disappeared in the middle of the night. A professor Blair had known while attending Rainier Advanced School had taught the usual pap in his regular classes. However, he held a class in the evening that only a select few were invited to attend. Blair had been one of those students. The professor had taught a radically different version of history. He told about how the United Confederate used to be the United States and how the early Americans -- what the settlers called themselves -- had fought for their freedom. He spoke of a civil war within those United States and how it wasn't a coincidence that the current government was called the Confederate, just like the side that condoned slavery in the nineteenth century.

One day the professor didn't show up to teach his day classes. Nobody heard from him again.

Dr. Chang swept a card through a reader and a door slid open. "Here you are, Blair." She handed him the key card. "This is the only key."

Blair accepted it with a tingle in the pit of his stomach. His very own room with his very own key. Even before his empathy had emerged, he'd always shared a place with at least one roommate. He resisted the urge to pinch himself, to reassure himself this was real and not a dream.

"Do you know how to get to the research lab?" Dr. Chang asked.

"It's on level seven. Rhonda showed me. She said I'm to report to Dr. Jack Kelso."

"That's right. The commissary is on level five and is open twenty-four-seven so you can eat whenever you'd like."

Blair nodded, his mind filled to overflowing with everything he'd learned since waking up in the med center. "Do sentinels eat there, too?" he asked hesitantly.

Dr. Chang crossed her arms and nodded. "There are five sentinel/guide pairs living in the facility. You're bound to run into a pair sooner or later. Do you have a problem with that?"

Although the thought of coming face to face with a sentinel turned his blood to ice, he shook his head. "As long as they're all paired."

"They are. Any other questions?"

Remembering the sentinel outside his med room, he said, "I thought there was an unpaired sentinel looking for a guide when I got here."

She smiled, but the gesture didn't touch her eyes. "There was, but Jim recently bonded."

Jim. That was his name. "Um, is it working?"

"Why?"

Blair fidgeted. "Just curious."

"It's working, more or less."

Although Blair was puzzled by her answer, he didn't pursue it. Why did he care anyway? He sure as hell didn't want to become a sentinel's property again.

"If something comes up, either call me or just log into your computer and type in your question," she said.

Excited to have his own comp unit, Blair lost some of his uneasiness regarding the sentinels. "Okay."

Dr. Chang studied him a moment, her eyes compassionate. "It's all right to be nervous, Blair. This is all new to you."

"Thanks, Dr. Chang. I'll be fine." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince the doctor or himself.

She smiled. "Good luck."

Then she was gone, leaving Blair alone. He walked into his quarters and although it was small, it held a warmth that he instantly liked. A single bed with a colorful comforter sat in a corner with a night table beside it. There was a desk with the comp unit and a chair next to it. Another chair, this one cushioned and on rockers, was set in another corner. There was an armoire that Blair opened and he was surprised to find clothes in it -- clothes that appeared to be his size. There were comfortable dark trousers and some heavier shirts made of soft material. Opening a drawer, he found underwear, T-shirts, and socks -- everything he needed.

He eased into the rocking chair, his healing back protesting only slightly, and absorbed the peace and quiet. He was free here, or as free as a guide could be on this world. There was no one to tell him how to act, what to say and wear... no one to punish him.

Memories of Kincaid's atrocities shattered his peace. Blair stood and began to pace. He rubbed his wrist where the bracelet labeling him a guide slave had been removed, but where a pinkish circle remained on his skin. Every scar that marred his body reminded him of his former sentinel and his sadistic nature... and the fact he'd been nothing more than a piece of property. The silence which he had just been comfortable now became oppressive. It was nearly seventeen hundred hours, a little early for dinner but maybe there'd be fewer people there. And hopefully, no sentinels.

Squaring his shoulders and ensuring he had his key, he took his first solo jaunt. Arriving at the commissary, he paused in the doorway. He was surprised to see over half the tables were occupied. He'd been here before, with Dr. Chang or Rhonda, but there'd only been a handful of people during those times.

Refusing to give in to the panic clawing up his throat, he forced himself to stroll across the room. He picked up his tray, grabbed some silverware and a napkin and got in line.

"Hi there."

Blair glanced up to see a black man who was shorter than General Banks, but whose expression was much less stern. He wore baggy trousers and an equally loose-fitting bright shirt. Blair couldn't help but smile back. "Hi."

"You must be new here."

Blair nodded. "I-I just came over to the Freedom side."

The man grinned and poked the next man in line with his elbow. "Hey, Rafe, you hear that, we've got a new convert."

Rafe, dressed in stark contrast to the other man in sharply pleated tan trousers and a matching starched shirt that could've been a uniform without insignia, smiled at Blair. "Welcome. I'm Rafe."

"Blair Sandburg," Blair said, keeping his empathy tamped down. He wanted to be treated just like a norm instead of a guide.

"I'm Henri Brown, but you can call me H," the dark man said.

Blair's grin widened. "Nice to meet you both."

"Are you sitting with anyone?" Rafe asked.

Blair shook his head, his smile fading. "Uh, no. I don't know too many people yet."

"Join us," H said with a magnanimous wave of his hand.

"I don't--"

"Please," Rafe interjected. "It's not very often we get new people down here."

Blair was tempted to read them to find out if they were sincere, but he stifled the urge and kept his barriers in place. "Thanks."

Five minutes later, the three men sat at one of the small square tables eating the plain, but filling food.

"So where will you be working?" Rafe asked after dabbing his lips with his napkin.

"The history section, under Dr. Kelso," Blair answered.

"Cool," H said.

Blair blinked in surprise. The only other time he'd heard the term "cool" was during the history class taught to select students. In fact, Blair had used it a few times himself.

"So what do you two do?" Blair asked.

"We're part of one of the incursion teams," Rafe answered for them both.

"Incursion team?"

"Like the team that found you and brought you here," H explained.

"We go into Confederate territory and try to create some mayhem and maybe bring more people over to our side," Rafe expanded.

Blair could barely recall the people who'd found him and the journey back was nothing but a blur. "Were you the ones who found me?"

Rafe shook his head. "That was Gold Team. We're Green Team." He suddenly looked toward the door. "If it isn't Jim and his new guide."

Blair's heart leapt into his throat but he couldn't stop from turning his gaze to the sentinel who'd wanted him. The man was grimacing and the creases in his brow were telltale signs of an after-zone headache. His guide, a pretty woman with reddish-brown hair, kept her hand on his arm as she spoke to him. But whatever she was doing didn't appear to be working. The sentinel drew away from her and stalked over to pick up a tray.

Blair's appetite fled as he waited for the sentinel to punish his guide.

"Blair, man, are you okay?" H asked, concern in his congenial features.

A weight settled in Blair's chest and he had difficulty drawing air into his lungs. "Uh, I just remembered I have to meet someone." He stood and picked up his tray, then paused. "It was nice meeting you both. Maybe we'll see each other again."

"Count on it, Hairboy," H said with a teasing grin.

For a moment, Blair felt a lightening in his chest and he smiled. Then he felt the sentinel's eyes on him and fled the commissary to return to the sanctuary of his room.

"Why'd he take off so fast?" Jim asked as he set his tray at the place Blair had just vacated. He sat down, trying to be unobtrusive as he opened his smell and touch to detect the renegade guide's fading scent and warmth. "Did he find out Rafe was a sentinel?"

H shook his head. "We didn't tell him and he was keeping his empathy on a tight leash. Poor kid's pretty overwhelmed by everything."

"You read him?" Jim demanded.

H held up his hands. "No way. But there are some feelings so strong I can't help but pick up on them." He glanced over Jim's shoulder. "Like when a guide is pissed off at her sentinel."

Jim didn't need to look to know Carolyn was coming his way. He tamped down his frustration and vowed to try to act civil toward her. But it was so damned hard. She grated on his nerves instead of soothing and anchoring him. Everything she did seemed to create the opposite effect of what was intended.

"Hello Rafe, Henri," Carolyn greeted them coolly. "Thanks for waiting, Jimmy." Sarcasm was rife in her voice.

Jim cringed inwardly at both her tone and her nickname for him. "I figured you could find your own way over here."

"Well, I'm glad you have at least that much confidence in my abilities."

Jim's headache, which had receded slightly when he'd sat down in Blair's chair, began to pound his temples again. "Give me a break. We've only been working together a few days."

"Long enough to show some type of improvement, but you're getting worse." She shook her head as if he were a child that disappointed her. "You're not trying."

Jim clenched his teeth and fought the angry words that sprang to his lips. He and his guide weren't even on the same page. As much as he wanted to tell Simon this was a mistake, he knew Carolyn was his only hope to be the first through the Gate. "I'll try harder," he finally said in a low voice.

Carolyn smiled and laid a possessive hand on his forearm. "We'll make a great team, Jimmy. You'll see."

He fought the urge to pull away from her and concentrated on eating the suddenly bitter food.

Blair bolted upright, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. With wide eyes he searched the dimness, trying to find something familiar, something that told him where he was. Abruptly, he remembered the last few days and fell back against his pillow, panting. He shoved his damp curly hair from his face and stared at the ceiling. Although he knew he was safe here, his body thrummed with terror.

In his nightmare he'd been back with Kincaid. Blair had refused to read someone and the sentinel had him whipped then locked in a box four by four feet for twenty-four hours. When he'd been let out of the box, his ragged clothes had been saturated with his body's waste and his muscles were so cramped he could hardly move. Only it wasn't just a nightmare -- Blair had lived it.

The sweat across his body began to cool and he trembled with cold and remembered pain.

A quiet knock at his door startled him and he glanced at the lighted chronometer next to his bed: 4:06 a.m.

"Who is it?" Blair demanded, and wished his voice hadn't cracked.

"Are you all right?" the man asked from the other side.

Blair jumped out of bed and approached the door on bare feet. "I-I'm fine. How did you know?" As soon as he asked the question, he realized who the voice belonged to. He drew back and pressed himself against the far wall. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm sorry if I upset you, but I was just walking by..." The sentinel's voice sounded contrite. And concerned.

Blair swallowed the renewed fear that rose like bile in his throat. "I'm okay. It was j-just a nightmare."

Silence answered, but Blair knew Jim was still out there beside his door. Was he planning on breaking down the door and forcing him to become his guide? No, he'd seen Jim with his new guide, who happened to be a beautiful woman. For a moment, regret seized him but fear quickly overcame it.

"Well, okay, then," Jim said hesitantly. "I'll just--"

Blair felt him start moving away and he scrambled over to the door that separated them. "Wait."

Jim immediately stilled and Blair sensed wariness but also something akin to gratitude.

"What're you doing up at this hour?" Blair asked, then wondered why the hell he was engaging a sentinel in a conversation at 4 o'clock in the morning.

"Couldn't sleep."

Despite himself, Blair pressed his palms against the door. "Is it your senses?"

"No... yes. I'm not sure." Exhaustion vied with frustration in his tone.

"Can't your guide help you?" The words felt wrong, but Blair ignored the odd jealousy.

There was a gentle thump on the other side and Blair could almost imagine Jim leaning heavily against the wall. "She's trying."

"Isn't she in your room?"

"No," came the immediate reply. "She sleeps in her own room across the hall."

Blair puzzled over that bit of information. As Kincaid's guide, he'd always kept Blair close at hand... except when he was being punished. At night, he slept at the foot of Kincaid's bed, whether the sentinel had someone else sharing his bed or not. Blair shuddered, remembering some of the perversions of his previous master. Fortunately none had been perpetrated on him since he was only a lowly guide.

"Maybe you should wake her--"

"No." Jim's sigh could be heard through the closed door. "I'll be all right." He pushed away from the wall. "I should get going."

Blair had the overwhelming urge to slide open his door and invite the sentinel in, to establish a link and soothe his senses. Shocked by the impulse, he pulled back and curled his fingers into his palms. "I hope you'll be able to sleep," he said stiffly.

"Me, too."

Blair could almost hear the tired smile in Jim's voice. He swallowed hard and listened to Jim walk away. His empathy instinctively expanded, seeking the sentinel and Blair allowed it. He brushed Jim and the sentinel's exhaustion and frustration almost inundated him. Without his conscious approval, he sent calming thoughts to the sentinel. As soon as he felt Jim's tension ease slightly, he drew back.

Trembling at what he'd unintentionally done, he returned to his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, but knew sleep wouldn't come. The misery in Jim's voice had touched him on a level that made him uncomfortable. It made him wonder if the whispered stories he'd heard about perfect unions between sentinels and guides might be true. In the tales, it was believed that for every sentinel there was one guide that fit perfectly with him or her. The connection between them would be something close to telepathic and each one cared for the other, protecting and sheltering in turn when needed.

But those were only stories, conceived by brutalized guides who survived by hoping for something better than their doomed lives. Blair had to admit he'd listened to his share of the fairytales while at the guide training center. A small part of him wished they were true, like a child yearning for Santa Claus.

He glanced around his dimly lit room, realizing that this would've been an impossible dream a week ago. Yet here he was, freer than he'd been as a guide, even as a norm. He had his own place, a job he'd be starting today, and something to hope for again -- the future.

So why couldn't he stop thinking about the suffering sentinel named Jim?

"Hey, Hairboy."

Startled, Blair glanced down the corridor to see Henri and Rafe approaching. Their warm smiles eased some of Blair's apprehension.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Rafe asked.

Blair shook his head and chuckled nervously. "I'm not sure I could keep anything down."

"New-job jitters, huh?" Henri's dark eyes twinkled.

Blair's face heated with chagrin. "I'm not sure what to expect."

"Come on. You need to eat something. While you do, Rafe and I'll fill you in on Dr. Kelso," Henri said amiably.

Thankful for the friendly faces, Blair followed them into the commissary and got a muffin and some coffee. Sitting down at a corner table, Blair took a bite of the muffin. It was some kind of berry and tasted good, but his stomach was doing cartwheels. He pushed it away and took a sip of the hot coffee.

"So what's he like?" Blair asked, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

"He eats research techies for lunch. That's why his department always has openings," Henri said with a straight face.

Blair's mouth dropped open.

Rafe lightly elbowed Henri in the ribs. "Quit scaring him, H." Rafe rolled his eyes then looked at Blair. "Dr. Kelso's a great guy, Blair. About ten years ago he was nearly killed by the Confederates when they figured out he was a spy for Freedom. He knows more about history and past civilizations than anyone I know."

"You mean he knows the real stuff?" Blair asked, his eyes wide.

"How did you know Confederate history was fabricated?" Rafe asked curiously.

Blair glanced down, suddenly wondering if he'd said too much. "I, uh, had a professor that taught a different history at night at his place. He said it was our actual history, not the one made up by the Confederate." He paused. "One day he just disappeared."

Rafe and Henri exchanged somber looks.

"The Confederate took him away, didn't they?" Blair asked softly, afraid of being overheard.

"Probably," Henri replied. "They don't like people who don't conform."

"Even if my empathy hadn't come on-line I probably would've been taken away by the Confederate one day." Blair grinned wryly. "I'm a nonconformist."

Henri smiled. "Then you'll fit in well with the rest of us."

"Tell me more about Dr. Kelso."

"He's the one whose research found this underground scientific facility," Rafe said. "It was used in the mid twenty-first century, then when the war started, it was abandoned and hidden. Those who worked here were sworn to secrecy but one of the scientists left clues in an ancient language, which Dr. Kelso discovered and translated."

Blair looked around as if seeing the place for the first time. "How did it stay so well preserved?"

Rafe chuckled. "Some kind of technical mumbo jumbo that Dr. Taggart and Dr. Conner might be able to explain, but the one time they tried to tell H and me, we were lost after the first sentence."

"Speak for yourself, man. I hung on for two and a half minutes," H said, winking at Blair.

Rafe leaned across the table and said in a stage whisper to Blair, "It took him that long to fall asleep."

Blair laughed and was amazed how good it felt. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had something to laugh about. "So what are they working on down here?"

Rafe and H exchanged a quick look, then H replied, "A special project."

"Sounds interesting."

"Oh, it is," H said with a wry smile.

Blair waited for them to elaborate but when neither man did, he realized it was probably a top secret project. The naturally inquisitive side of him wanted to ask more questions, but the guide had learned hard lessons under Sentinel Kincaid. Sometimes it was better to remain silent and keep his ears open.

He leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee. His encounter with the sentinel early in the morning prompted him to ask, "Are Jim and his guide working out?"

Rafe and Henri were startled by his question.

"Why do you ask?" Rafe asked, almost suspiciously.

"I was just wondering."

"Are you, uh, sensing something?" Henri asked.

For a moment, Blair was surprised that Henri knew he was a guide. But, then, from what he understood, this was a close facility and everyone probably knew about his arrival. He glanced down at his wrist, where the guide bracelet had been removed. No longer was he marked as an inferior being. Even if people knew he was a guide, nobody had treated him like a fourth class citizen, especially not Rafe and Henri. They'd been nothing but friendly and accepting.

"I had a nightmare last night that woke me. Next thing I know Jim is outside my door asking me if I'm all right," Blair admitted.

Concern blanketed the two men's faces.

"He said he was walking by when he heard me. Said he had trouble sleeping. He didn't exactly admit he had trouble with his senses, but I got that impression," Blair continued. "When I asked him about his guide, he got defensive. He said she slept in another room. Is that the way it is here?"

"What do you mean?" Rafe asked quietly.

Blair squirmed uncomfortably. "Do sentinels and guides sleep in separate rooms?"

Rafe shrugged. "A few do, but most share quarters. There are special rooms with two beds in them for sentinel-guide pairs."

Much of the Freedom group's ways were opposite of the Confederate's. "So why doesn't he sleep with his guide? If this were the Confederate, she'd be sharing his bed whether she wanted to or not."

"That's not how sentinel-guide pairs are here, Blair," Henri said, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "If Jim wanted Carolyn to sleep with him, he'd ask her. If she said no, he'd drop the subject. She could ask him the same and he could refuse her. They'd only sleep together if it was consensual. But they'd continue to work as sentinel and guide no matter what."

"Sentinel and guide are equals here, Blair," Rafe said gently. "Nobody can control another human being."

Blair glanced down, considering the sincerity in Rafe's tone. Someone touched his arm and his empathy flared. It only reacted like that when... Blair's mouth gaped and he stared in shock at Rafe who withdrew his hand. "Y-you're a sentinel."

Rafe's face reddened. "I'm sorry, Blair. We should have told you earlier."

Blair's gaze shot to Henri. "And you're his guide?"

"Guilty," H said, raising his hands in surrender.

Blair's world tipped on its axis as he grappled with their admission. General Banks and Dr. Chang had also told him that sentinel and guide were equals, but he hadn't truly believed them. But he couldn't deny what his empathy was telling him at this moment. Rafe and Henri were sincerely fond of one another.

Was everything he'd been taught about sentinels and guides just another Confederate lie? Was it possible for a sentinel to treat a guide as an equal and not an inferior being?

His gaze darted between Henri and Rafe. Part of him was repulsed, but he forced himself to shove aside the learned response. The truth was staring him in the face and he'd be a fool to deny it.

"Are you all right, Blair?" Rafe asked him, his worry clearly evident.

"I-I'm not sure. I've hated sentinels ever since--" He broke off, unable to articulate what they'd done to him and others like him in the name of training. "But you're not like them."

Rafe smiled gently. "No Freedom sentinel is like that." He paused. "Including Jim."

"This is going to take some processing," Blair admitted with a nervous huff.

Henri rested his palm lightly on Blair's wrist, allowing calm reassurance to flow into the younger man. "If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask. Rafe and I have been together for about ten years now. We can tell you pretty much everything you want to know about Freedom sentinel-guide pairs."

Blair took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He smiled wryly at the two men. "I can't believe I didn't figure it out right away. I just thought you were good friends."

"We're that, too," H said, flashing Rafe a quick smile.

"Somebody has to try to teach Henri how to dress," Rafe said in a way that Blair knew it was a long-held joke between them. Then the sentinel grew serious. "What time was Jim outside your room?"

"About four." Armed with more knowledge, Blair scrubbed his face with his hands and murmured. "I wanted to help him, but--"

"He has a guide, Blair," Rafe reminded. "You needn't feel guilty about anything."

Blair appreciated Rafe's words, but it didn't banish the feeling that he could've helped the hurting sentinel. That he wanted to help him.

Whoa! Rafe was right. Jim's guide was Carolyn. Besides, even if it was different here, did he want to be tied to someone for the rest of his life?

"Thanks, guys," Blair said. "You've given me a lot to think about and you'll probably regret offering to answer my questions." He laughed then glanced at the chronometer on the wall and jumped to his feet. "I'm going to be late for my first day."

"Don't worry, Hairboy, you'll work out just fine," Henri assured.

"You will," Rafe reiterated. "Meet us for dinner at six and you can tell us how it went."

"It's a date," Blair said as he scurried away, his mind aswirl.

"You catch on fast, Blair," Dr. Kelso said as he rolled his wheelchair up beside the younger man.

Blair looked away from the book in his lap to grin at the doctor. "Man, I can't believe this is actually a job. Reading real books that were published before the war?" He fairly bounced in his chair.

Dr. Kelso smiled with fond amusement. "And looking for information that might be vital to our efforts."

"Like what you found which led to the discovery of this place?"

"Who told you about that?"

"Rafe and Henri."

Dr. Kelso shook his head, but he was chuckling. "Ah, our most closely matched sentinel and guide pair. You sneak up on one and the other jumps."

"Are they really that close?"

"Oh, yes. Overall, I think you'll find that within Freedom, the sentinel-guide pairs are much closer than those in the Confederate. With equality comes trust and loyalty. And sometimes more." He gestured towards a dark haired man and a blonde woman working side by side. "Stefan and Michelle paired when they were seventeen. Three years later they were married. They've been together for close to twenty years now."

Blair studied the two, again amazed that he hadn't realized they were a sentinel-guide pair, either. He set his book on his desk already overflowing with books. "Man, it's like I stepped into this weird zone where up is down and down is up."

Kelso smiled slightly. "Since Freedom doesn't have that many guides, sentinels coming on-line have few options when it comes to finding one. Those guides, like yourself who are rescued and join the Freedom movement rarely want anything to do with a sentinel after their experience with the Confederate."

Blair glanced down, knowing he fell into that category. But he hadn't realized how different it was here.

"Often times sentinels and guides make do here, hoping their bond is strong enough just to take care of the basics," Kelso finished with a shrug.

Blair thought about Jim and his new guide. Were they just making do? Or was it merely because their bond was in its early stage? It was a question he should ask Henri and Rafe.

"You've got a sharp mind, Blair," Kelso said. "The sharpest I've seen in a long time. I'm really glad you came over to our side."

Warmth curled through Blair at Kelso's praise. He shrugged to hide his embarrassed pleasure. "I like learning. My mom, she was different than most norms. She liked to travel. Sometimes it got her in trouble." He paused, remembering with painful clarity the last time he'd seen her. He shook himself free of the depressing memory. "But she had friends that helped her out. I learned a lot just moving around with her. Sometimes where we'd stay they had books like these. Well, not as cool as these, but they were pre-Confederate. They were kept hidden and only certain people knew about them."

Dr. Kelso's eyes lit up. "That's amazing, Blair. I'm glad to hear there are others out there holding on to our past -- our true past. It gives hope for our future." He glanced at the chronometer. "It's nearly six, Blair. You should probably get to the commissary. That apple you had for lunch is long gone."

As if it punctuate the statement, Blair's stomach growled. He and Kelso laughed.

"You're right. Especially since I told Rafe and Henri I'd meet them." Blair used a strip of paper to mark his place and closed the book reverently. He set it on his desk with the others. "I can't wait to get back here tomorrow morning. What time do you open the office?"

Dr. Kelso shook his head fondly. "You're cleared for this office so anytime you want to come down to work, just run your badge through the security lock."

"Wow! Cool. Thanks, Dr. Kelso." Blair's eyes danced with delight as he smiled widely.

"Have a nice evening, Blair," Dr. Kelso said.

"You, too." Blair stood and headed for the door.

"Oh, one other thing," Dr. Kelso said.

Blair paused. "What's that?"

"Have you had any combat training?"

Blair blanched. "No. I'm not really into that kind of stuff."

Dr. Kelso's expression turned serious. "Anyone living in this facility has to know how to defend it. You'll need to get certified in hand-to-hand combat and instructed in the use of weapons."

"But--"

"No buts, Blair. You probably feel fairly safe down here, but if the Confederate ever found this place and overran our defenses, it'd be up to us to defend it." Kelso learned forward, his expression earnest. "We're fighting an enemy that wants nothing more than to destroy all of us. If we want to bring equality back to this world, we have to stay alive long enough to do it."

Blair recognized the validity of Dr. Kelso's rationale and nodded reluctantly. "How do I get the training?"

"You said you're meeting with Rafe and Henri -- ask them. They can get you set up with an instructor."

"I will," Blair promised even though he cringed inwardly. Then he thought of Kincaid and his resolve strengthened. "I promise."

Dr. Kelso smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Blair waved and headed out. As he headed to the commissary, thoughts of combat training faded as he considered his new job. Never would he have imagined he'd be doing something he loved more than anything -- researching the past. It was a dream come true. Hell, the whole situation was a dream come true. No longer a slave, but a person with his own self-worth. He didn't have to worry about a sentinel forcing him to bond in the cruelest, most brutal method. Blair shoved away the dark memories. It was time to look ahead, not back.

After showering in the gym's locker room, Jim quickly dressed in his customary clothing -- brown trousers and a tan button-up shirt. He'd been training Carolyn in the fighting skills she'd need as his guide. However, after two weeks it was obvious she didn't get it. She was awkward and couldn't seem to accomplish the simplest movements. Too often Jim had the impression she would rather try some other moves on him. The scent of her pheromones was a dead giveaway and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his own body from responding. Lately he'd been wondering if maybe he shouldn't just take her up on her offer and get it out of his system. But there was something about her that put him off, other than the fact that they were barely compatible.

Jim sat on the bench and laced up his boots, thinking about his new guide. Carolyn's guide skills were almost non-existent but he'd been prepared for that since she'd recently come on-line and hadn't had any training. But even working with the other guides, she didn't seem to be picking up those needed skills. Or maybe her empathy was too weak. All Jim knew was that more often than not he ended up with a headache around her instead of having his senses soothed by her presence.

He planted his elbows on his thighs and buried his pounding head in his hands. The more he touched her, the more obvious it was they weren't working out. But she was his only option if he wanted to be the first through the Gate. Although he'd told Simon to send Rafe and Henri, Jim almost ached to be the lead sentinel in this experiment. If he couldn't work with Carolyn, he'd lose his chance.

At least Carolyn wasn't accompanying him to the commissary this evening. She'd said she didn't feel well. In a way, he was relieved he didn't have her company for dinner. Maybe he could actually enjoy a meal.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jim trudged to the commissary. A few minutes later he arrived and found it nearly empty. He glanced at the chronometer: 2045. No wonder there were so few people. Suddenly a familiar scent, followed closely by a calming rhythm caught his attention. Blair Sandburg sat in a corner, his nose buried in a book. Glasses, like Simon's, were perched on his nose. He appeared to be totally immersed in whatever he was reading.

Jim clenched his teeth. He'd stayed away from Blair since that night a few weeks ago when he'd heard Blair's heart kick into overdrive. Jim had been in his own room -- three floors down -- when he'd heard it. He could hardly keep track of Carolyn's heartbeat when she was walking next to him. But Blair's... He'd noticed it other times, too, but had forced himself to ignore it. The abused guide wanted nothing to do with sentinels and Jim would honor his wishes, though it hurt like hell to do so.

He forced himself to look away and picked up a tray. With nobody in line, he quickly had his food. Looking around for an isolated table, he noticed Blair gazing at him. Jim gave him a nod and started to turn away.

"Would you like to join me?" Blair asked in a normal tone that Jim had no trouble hearing across the room.

Startled, Jim tipped his head to the side in question.

Blair smiled slightly and waved him over. Feeling unaccountably pleased, Jim walked over to his table and sat down across from him.

"Hi," Blair said.

Although his smile was genuine, Jim could hear the rapid patter of his heart and smell the faint overlay of nervousness. "Hi," Jim said in reply. "Are you sure you don't mind me joining you?"

Blair shook his head. "Actually, I've been wanting to talk with you."

He didn't say "alone," but Jim heard it nevertheless.

"Where's your guide?" Blair asked as he closed his book and carefully slid it into his rucksack.

Jim picked up his fork and debated what food to try first, then decided it didn't matter since nothing tasted like what it was supposed to. "She didn't feel well."

"Are you okay?"

Jim paused with a forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth. "I'm fine." Then he completed the fork's journey to his mouth and found the potatoes tasted like... potatoes. With renewed enthusiasm he dug into his food.

Blair rose. Jim's head came up sharply. Two minutes must be as long as Blair could stand to be near him.

"I need more water," Blair said, holding up his empty glass.

Relief made Jim lightheaded. "Uh, okay."

"Would you like some?"

"Sure."

Jim's senses followed Blair with a voyeurism that made the sentinel frown. Blair wasn't his guide, yet his senses insisted he was.

Blair returned with two glasses of water and set one in front of Jim then sat down. He appeared uncomfortable and Jim knew he needed to start some kind of dialogue if he wanted Blair to stick around for a little while.

"How's your job going?" Jim asked the most non-threatening question he could think of.

It was the right one because Blair's face lit up in a way Jim had never seen before. "It's great, man. I can't believe it's really a job. I mean, to be able to study past civilizations and learn history -- the true history -- is just, like, wow."

There was no doubt Blair was genuinely excited about his work. His enthusiasm even made Jim smile for the first time in too long. "So the job's okay?" Jim couldn't help but tease the younger man.

Blair's eyes widened then twinkled with amusement when he caught on. "Dr. Kelso said if I was any happier, I'd be bouncing off the walls."

Jim laughed, startling himself. Blair was a treat compared to Carolyn. In fact, he was unlike anyone he'd ever met, guide or otherwise. "That's good, Chief. I'm happy for you."

Blair gazed at him a long moment, as if trying to find something. Finally he said, "Thanks, Jim. I appreciate that." He glanced down at his ever-moving hands. "Uh, I owe you an apology."

Jim set his fork down on his empty plate. "For what?"

Embarrassment radiated from the guide. "I didn't treat you very well when I first got here. I knew you were outside my door when General Banks said you were looking for a guide. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Jim shrugged. "I understand. What you went through--" He broke off, shaking his head. "I'm sorry you had such a terrible experience."

Blair took a drink of water. "I've gotten to know Rafe and Henri, and Stefan and Michelle in the research department. I see now what General Banks meant when he said a sentinel and guide pair here is different than in the Confederate. If I'd known that then, I might not have been so fast to say no."

Jim's heart catapulted in his chest. But he had a guide. He and Carolyn had a bond, weak though it was, and he doubted she wanted to sever it. And that was assuming Blair was even willing to become his guide.

"How are you and Carolyn working out?" Blair asked, his dark blue eyes intense.

Jim felt his senses moving outward, gathering around Blair, and he forcibly reined them in. "We're working on it," he said diffidently.

"You've been together how long now? A month?"

Jim nodded, feeling his chest constricting once more. "Yeah, about that."

"Maybe--" Blair's voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Maybe she and you aren't compatible."

"I'm beginning to wonder myself," Jim murmured.

Blair leaned forward. "So what happens if a sentinel-guide pair isn't compatible?"

Hope burgeoned in Jim, but he choked it down. Even if Blair was willing to become his guide now, it was too late. It was a matter of integrity to remain bonded to Carolyn. Besides, Jim's upcoming assignment was dangerous and he couldn't bear the thought of Blair being hurt. "We've never had that situation come up," Jim said with forced nonchalance. "Sometimes it just takes a little longer for the bond to settle in."

Blair didn't comment, but Jim sensed understanding and sympathy in the guide. He stood, not wanting Blair's pity. "I'd better check on Carolyn."

Blair rose and touched Jim's arm. The effect was immediate as Jim's senses sharpened to acute clarity and homed in on Blair. He felt the guide's concern, kindness, loyalty, and compassion with a slight sense of apprehension mixed in. There was no doubt this was what it felt like when a sentinel found the right guide.

"There you are, Jimmy."

Carolyn's shrill voice broke the fragile, budding connection between Jim and Blair. The men backed away from one another, as if they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't.

"I thought you were sick," Jim said, forcing his attention away from Blair.

"I thought some soup might help." Her narrowed gaze moved between Jim and Blair, then stopped on the guide. "Blair, isn't it?"

Blair's smile was shaky. "And you're Jim's guide, Carolyn, right?"

"That's correct." The possessiveness in her voice was anything but subtle.

Blair blinked owlishly, then gathered his tray and threw his rucksack over his shoulder. "It was nice meeting you, Carolyn. Jim, thanks for keeping me company while I ate."

Then Blair was gone, leaving Jim alone with his angry guide.

"What was that all about?" Carolyn demanded.

Suddenly weary, Jim shook his head. "Like he said, we just kept each other company over dinner. Don't make a big deal about it." His headache returned with a vengeance. "I'm going to my quarters. I'll see you in the morning."

"You have a headache, don't you?" she asked, abruptly turning solicitous.

"It's fine," he responded automatically.

"I'll come with you and help, Jimmy," Carolyn said, clinging to him like fungus.

Jim clenched his jaw and waited until they were in the deserted corridor to speak. "No, that's all right. Go back to your room and lie down."

"But when sentinels and guides are in pain, either physical or mental, the more physical contact they have, the better the bond will work to heal both of them."

Obviously she'd learned something from the other guides. Only Jim wished it hadn't been that specific thing. He couldn't deny what she said so nodded numbly and followed her to the elevator. It was going to be a long night.

A week later, Blair met Rafe and Henri in the commissary at seven a.m.. It had become habit for them to eat breakfast and sometimes dinner together each day. Blair enjoyed their company, although it always left him feeling lonely. In moments of complete self-honesty, he recognized the urge to bond with his own sentinel. And the sentinel who always came to mind was Jim Ellison.

After talking with Jim last week, Blair knew what he was missing. He'd gotten a taste of it when he'd touched Jim's arm. Emotions had swirled through him -- warm colors, compassionate colors, protective colors. Everything that was Jim Ellison flowed through Blair in those seconds they'd been in contact. What would it be like to actually bond with the sentinel? Of course, Carolyn's appearance had shattered that conjecturing. Jealousy and possessiveness had rolled off her in sheets. The strength of her emotions had nearly bowled him over. There was no way she'd let Jim out of their bond, which meant Blair would never know what it felt like to guide a good and decent sentinel.

"What's wrong, Hairboy?" Henri asked. "You look like Dr. Kelso just fired you."

Blair shook his head. "Nah. Just thinking."

H and Rafe exchanged a look which said they were worried about him. Being an observer at heart, Blair had learned to interpret their looks after spending so much time in the men's company.

"I'm okay," Blair reiterated, then asked with feigned enthusiasm. "Next hand-to-hand lesson is at four today, right?"

"Sixteen hundred," Rafe corrected with a roll of his eyes. "Military time, Blair."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"And yes, your next lesson is at sixteen hundred hours this afternoon," Rafe said with practiced patience. In fact, he used the same tone with Henri a lot, too. "But I'm afraid we won't be there. H and I have a mission. We'll be gone for a few days."

Startled, Blair set down his half-eaten bagel. "A mission?"

"You know, our job?" H teased. "You read books, we engage the enemy."

Blair scowled. "That's not funny, H. What if you're hurt?"

"We've done hundreds of recon missions, Blair," Rafe assured.

"But it only takes one," Blair fired back, unaccountably angry.

Henri rested his hand on Blair's arm to calm him. "Take it easy. You know that Freedom isn't only about research and science. Most of it is made up of soldiers. We fight the enemy, Blair. That's what we do."

Blair struggled with his conflicting emotions. It was one of the Freedom recon missions that had found him. If they hadn't, he'd be dead, or worse, by now. But he just hated knowing his friends were putting themselves in danger. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Down here, it's easy to forget."

"That's all right," Rafe assured. "I don't want you to miss training because we're gone. If you don't mind, we've asked Jim to fill in for us."

Blair blinked in surprise. As much as he wouldn't mind getting to know Jim better, he suspected Carolyn wouldn't appreciate it. "What did Carolyn say?"

Rafe glanced at Henri but this time Blair couldn't read their expressions.

"I don't think he told her," Henri finally said.

"But she won't like an unbonded guide near her sentinel."

"Like you're going to try to bond with Jim?" Henri snorted. "If she thinks that, she doesn't know you."

"Or she's jealous," Rafe said, his voice low.

Blair stared at the sentinel. "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, hell," H began, rolling his eyes. "It's no secret the bond between Jim and Carolyn isn't working out."

Although Blair strongly suspected that was the case, to have Henri confirm it gave him a boost of confidence. "So what happens when a bond isn't working?"

"Both sentinel and guide have to agree to dissolve it," Rafe explained.

Blair groaned. "Carolyn won't do it."

"Why do you care?" Henri asked, an eyebrow arched.

Blair's face heated with chagrin as he struggled to come up with a reason. He didn't know how to explain the strange compulsion he had to be near Jim.

"Stop teasing him, H," Rafe scolded his guide. He looked at Blair. "Do you remember when you escaped the med center right after you were brought here?"

Blair thought back, remembering his fear and confusion. He nodded.

"Jim sensed the connection with you the moment he saw you. He'd been protective of Gil, but nothing like he acted with you," Rafe explained.

"Gil?" Blair asked.

"His guide before Carolyn. He died a couple of months ago, which is why Jim needed a new guide."

Blair glanced down at his clenched hands. "So, was Gil like his true guide?"

"No. But their bond was a hell of a lot stronger than what he has with Carolyn," H supplied. He lowered his voice. "You feel it, too, don't you?"

Blair jerked his head up to meet Henri's sympathetic gaze. He nodded reluctantly. "I didn't want to acknowledge it, though. I mean, he's got a guide. And, to be honest, I'm not sure if I want to be shackled to someone for the rest of my life."

Rafe and Henri sighed almost in unison.

"Jim would bond with you immediately if you agreed," Rafe said softly.

"I guess it's a moot point since Carolyn won't release him," Blair said, feigning nonchalance.

Sentinel and guide glanced at each other, but neither spoke. The three men continued eating breakfast, but Blair found the bagel had lost its appeal.

As one, the friends stood and carried their trays to the bin beside the door. Once in the corridor, Rafe said, "Sixteen hundred hours. Jim will meet you at the gym."

Blair nodded. Although he wasn't happy that Rafe and Henri were going on a mission, he couldn't deny the anticipation running through him at the thought of spending some time with Jim. He shook Rafe then Henri's hand. "Good luck. I'll see you when you return."

"Keep out of trouble," Henri said, winking at the younger guide.

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do," Rafe added with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah," Blair muttered, though he smiled warmly.

Then the sentinel and guide headed down the corridor, leaving Blair to go the opposite direction alone.

Much to Dr. Kelso's amusement, Blair left work early to attend his combat training instructions. Usually, he had to remind the young man a couple of times before Blair finally dragged himself away from his books. He knew Rafe and Henri were training Blair, and he also knew they had left for a mission that morning. He guessed it was Jim who was filling in for Rafe and Henri.

Living in a small, closed population always made for the rapid flow of gossip. It was known that Sentinel Ellison and Guide Plummer weren't working out; it was also known that Sentinel Ellison had shown classic sentinel-guide protective instincts when a hurting and bewildered Blair had held a knife to Dr. Conner's throat. There was also another rumor that said Blair had had no intention of hurting Megan -- it was a rumor Jack Kelso tended to believe.

But the tangled web with Carolyn in the center was a difficult one to unravel. Dr. Kelso had done some research on Carolyn Plummer and had found nothing out of the ordinary in her life as a norm. That should've eased his misgivings, but it hadn't. The instincts that had served him so well while a spy were screaming at him. However, he had nothing tangible to give General Banks. His only option was to watch and listen.

Blair entered the locker room, figuring he was early enough that Jim wouldn't be there. However, as he rounded the corner to his locker he found the sentinel sitting on the bench, his gaze unfocused. Shit! He'd fallen into a zone. Where was Carolyn? Shouldn't she be able to sense her sentinel's condition? Even though Blair hated Sentinel Kincaid, he couldn't shut down his guide instincts to help Kincaid when he fell into a zone-out.

Swallowing hard, Blair debated whether to find Carolyn or help Jim himself. After glancing around and finding them alone, he gave in to temptation and knelt beside the sentinel. He took a deep breath and touched his cheek. He reached into the blankness surrounding Jim and burrowed deeper until he felt the sentinel's life-force. It pulsed faintly but nothing could disguise Jim's vibrant power and Blair resisted the urge to cocoon his very self within it. Blair mentally massaged Jim's consciousness, urging him to feel his presence.

Suddenly Jim jerked. Awareness filtered back into his features and he focused on Blair.

"Are you okay?" Blair asked quietly, uncertain if Jim's hearing was spiking.

Jim nodded. "You brought me out."

Blair retreated and shoved his hands under his arms. "I didn't know where Carolyn was." He prayed Jim didn't hear the rapidfire beat of his heart.

"That's okay. You brought me back faster than she ever could," Jim admitted. "Thanks, Chief."

His courage returning, Blair met Jim's clear gaze. "Where is she?"

Jim shrugged. "I told her I was going to the gym. Since she hates working out, she decided to stay in her quarters."

"You didn't tell her you'd be instructing me, did you?"

"No." Jim smiled faintly. "I knew what she'd say."

Blair huffed a laugh. "I see your point, man."

Jim eyed him, but Blair couldn't read his thoughts. He was tempted to open himself to the sentinel, to sense his emotions, but his principles kept him in check. He didn't have the right. Hell, he'd been damned close to violating a sentinel-guide bond when he brought Jim back from the zone-out. By all rights, he should've found Carolyn and let her take care of him. But he'd been selfish, indulging himself in something he'd never experienced before -- drawing a sentinel out of a zone-out because he wanted to.

Jim suddenly stood. "Hurry up and change, Chief. I'll be out on the mat waiting for you."

The sentinel, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a black t-shirt, strode out of the locker room. Blair shook himself out of his thoughts and quickly threw on his own sweats. After taking a deep breath, he went through the door to join Jim on one of the four mats in each corner of the large open area. A group of six men and two women were playing flickerball on one side of the gym. Giving himself a few moments to gather his composure, Blair watched them toss the football at the square hole in the backboard. It bounced off.

Shaking his head, Blair walked over to join Jim.

"You play?" Jim asked, motioning toward the court.

"All-sector champ ten years ago," Blair said with a crooked grin.

"I'm impressed, Chief. Maybe when we're done here, we can show them how it's done."

Blair's grin widened. "That'd be great, Jim. Gotta warn you though, it's been awhile since I played."

Jim playfully tugged the younger man's ponytail. "Just like riding a bike."

"What's a bike?"

Jim laughed. "Some day I'll show you." He flattened his feet on the mat, about a foot apart. "Let's do some stretching then get to work."

An hour later Blair, sweat-soaked, lay on his back on the mat staring up at the sentinel's concerned face.

"Are you all right, Blair?" Jim asked, hunkering down next to him.

"Just great," Blair said between pants. "I think Rafe and Henri have been taking it easy on me."

"You did good, Chief. Real good. A lot better than Carolyn and she's been training longer than you."

Blair pushed himself up to sit in a lotus position. He pushed back the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail. Mirroring his position, Jim sat with their knees almost touching. Blair didn't need his empathic abilities to know something was bothering the sentinel. "Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

Jim picked at his shoelaces. "It's not working out," he confessed in a low voice.

"Is it just a matter of compatibility?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"But there's more," Blair said, reading Jim's expression easily.

The sentinel's face reddened. "She doesn't act like a guide. She acts more like a jealous lover."

"Are you lovers?" Blair asked, figuring he had nothing to lose.

Jim brought his head up sharply, anger etched in his features, but the impatience fled, leaving misery in its wake. "No. Not exactly."

"How exactly then?"

Jim squirmed uncomfortably. "Remember the evening you and I had dinner together? My headache came back as soon as you left and Carolyn insisted on coming to my quarters to help get rid of it."

"Did she?"

Jim met Blair's gaze squarely. "Yes, which was surprising since she usually makes it worse. But this time..." He swallowed and his face turned a deeper shade of crimson. "She had me dial up my touch and one thing led to another."

Shock slammed Blair between the eyes. What Jim described would've led to a guide's execution in the Confederate. "She violated you."

"No." Jim's expression darkened. "I just decided it wasn't worth fighting anymore."

Blair leaned forward, his body vibrating with indignation and something close to rage. "She used your senses against you, man. Can't you see that?"

Jim rubbed circles on his brow. "I'm only human, Chief. It'd been a long time."

"Would you have allowed it if you didn't have your sense of touch turned up?"

Jim's silence answered Blair's question.

"Dammit, Jim, you have to talk to somebody. Who's the person in charge of things like this?"

"Look, it's not like I didn't enjoy it. Just drop it, Sandburg."

Blair retreated at Jim's vehemence, yet he knew what Carolyn had done was wrong on so many levels. Ever since he'd learned that Rafe and Henri were sentinel and guide, he'd observed and questioned the two men about everything under the sun regarding a sentinel-guide relationship in the Freedom group. What he didn't get from them, he gathered from Stefan and Michelle. Both pairs had been surprisingly frank about their relationship.

"So, are you planning a repeat?" Blair asked, keeping his voice casual.

Jim glared at him. "No."

"What if she is?"

Jim closed his eyes, but not before Blair caught the naked anguish in them. He laid his hands on Jim's knees but kept his barriers firmly in place.

"Listen to me, Jim. She took advantage of your senses. A guide never ever does that. You have to break the bond."

"I have to get her to agree."

"Isn't there some law or rule that says a bond is null and void if either the guide or the sentinel violates it?"

"I don't know. We've never had this happen before."

Suddenly the lights went out and blue strobes began to rotate.

"Alert Force Delta. This is not a drill. Everyone to their battlestations immediately. I repeat, Alert Force Delta. All personnel report to your battlestations."

"What--"

Jim grabbed Blair's wrist and pulled him to his feet. "C'mon, Chief."

They didn't even take time to change clothes but raced through the corridor to the elevator. "Go to your quarters and stay there," Jim ordered Blair.

"Can't I--"

"No. I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I can."

Then Jim was gone, leaving Blair alone.

The blue strobes stopped and the regular lighting returned as Jim skidded into the Control Room. He found General Banks in there, along with Taggert, Conner and all the techs. Henri and Rafe were also there, and H had blood on the shoulder of his uniform. Rafe was trying not to hover, but Jim could see the sentinel's protective instincts fighting to emerge.

"What's going on?" Jim demanded.

"There are about fifty Confederate troops approximately two kilometers from the entrance," Rafe reported curtly. "I heard the commander telling his troops to be ready at first light."

"How did they find us?" General Banks asked around the nearly crushed cigar between his lips.

"They haven't yet," Rafe said, shooting H a concerned glance. "It sounded like they were a search squad."

"So how'd they get this close?" Jim asked.

"Good question," Banks said. "Gather round, everyone," he called out.

A dozen people, including Dr. Taggert and Dr. Conner, wearing white jackets made a half circle around the general.

"How close are we?" Simon asked.

Nobody breathed for a moment. Joel and Megan glanced at one another.

"We'd like to run a few more diagnostic tests," Joel finally said.

"Have they been run already?" Banks asked.

Joel nodded reluctantly. "Three times."

"How'd things check out?"

"Good to go," Megan said quietly.

Jim's heart thundered in his chest. Time had run out. If he didn't go first, Rafe and H were lined up but with Henri's wound, they couldn't do it. There were no other sentinel-guide pairs prepared to travel back in time. "I'm ready," he stated.

"Is Carolyn?" Banks asked.

Jim blanched inwardly. "She hasn't been briefed on the existence of the Time Gate."

General Banks sighed in irritation. "What were you waiting for?"

"For the bond to grow stronger, sir."

"Has it?"

Jim glanced down. "It's as strong as it'll get."

"Which isn't strong enough," Rafe argued.

"Bond with Blair," Henri said.

Jim's sense of honor vied with his selfish wish to do as Henri said. "It wouldn't be fair, to Carolyn or Blair."

"Asking any guide to do this without giving them enough time to make a decision isn't fair," Joel said stubbornly. "Gil knew about this from the start."

"But Gil isn't here," Jim said, desperation making him terse. "How much time do we have?"

Everyone looked to Rafe and Henri. "A day, maybe two," Rafe admitted.

Silence, except for the quiet hum of the computers, filled the control room as all gazes turned to General Banks. Although there were higher-ups he answered to, Banks was in charge of the Time Gate project. It was his call.

"All right, people, listen up," Bank raised his voice. "Tomorrow morning, oh eight hundred hours. It's a go."

Excitement rippled through the crowd of technicians and they returned to their work stations with a renewed sense of purpose.

Simon turned to the small select group around him -- Jim, Rafe, Henri, Taggert and Conner. "There will be a briefing at oh six hundred tomorrow morning with all the department heads to ensure we are as ready as we can be."

Everyone nodded.

"I'm taking Henri to the med center," Rafe said, his tone brooking no argument.

"Go," Banks said. "Let me know what Serena says."

"Yes, sir," Rafe said and put an arm around his guide's waist to assist him.

"Jim and Carolyn need their markers," Megan Conner said.

Jim nodded. The markers had been explained to Gil and him as an isotope with a specific radioactive signature. It would be injected into him and his guide so the team could track them in time. But more importantly, the marker was a security device that would allow Jim and his guide to come back through the gate but no one else could follow.

"Bring Carolyn to my office," General Banks ordered Jim. "We'll brief her there, then we'll show her the gate."

"When, sir?" Jim asked.

"Thirty minutes."

Jim swallowed and nodded. He didn't have time for regrets or second thoughts. Carolyn was his guide and she would be the one accompanying him on the most important mission in his life -- in everyone's lives. He thrust Blair out of his thoughts, concentrating on the mission. If it was to succeed his mind had to be sharp and clear.

Jim forced himself not to run down the corridor. A few minutes later in his room, he threw off his sweatpants and t-shirt and took a quick shower. As he tugged on his customary tan uniform, he remembered he had told Blair to stay in his quarters until he called. Using the comp system, he typed in Blair's name and pressed enter. It didn't take long for the monitor to be filled with Blair's anxious face.

"Jim, what's going on?" Blair asked.

"Nothing right now. There's a squad of Confederates about a mile away. Whenever they get that close we go to Alert Delta," Jim explained.

"Do you think they found out about this place?"

Jim shook his head. "I doubt it, Chief. We're very careful about who we bring down here."

"But they might've found out somehow." The apprehension in Blair's voice made Jim wish he had the time -- and the right -- to ease his fears.

"You're safe here, Blair," Jim said firmly. "Just follow your regular schedule."

"What about you?"

Jim kept his expression blank. "I'm fine. I may not see you for a little while, though."

"Why?"

Jim used the standard line. "Recon mission."

Concern lined Blair's face, making him look older. "How long?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"Will Carolyn be going with you?"

"She's my guide."

For a long moment, Blair stared at him. "Be careful."

Jim managed a shaky smile. "Always." He studied the man who might have been his fabled true guide. Now he'd never find out. "If anything happens, don't blame yourself."

Blair glanced away from the monitor and when his gaze returned, regret and guilt shadowed his features. "I'm sorry, Jim. If I'd have known..."

"Hey, everything will work out fine. Don't sweat it, Chief. I'll see you when I get back." Jim clicked off before he lost his confident facade. Although he'd put on an optimistic face, he knew everything was about to change. If he and his guide succeeded in their mission, the world would be changed in the blink of an eye. And if they didn't, Jim wasn't certain if he'd be returning.

Shoving his thoughts aside, he closed his eyes to try to contact Carolyn via their bond. It didn't work. Clenching his teeth, he ignored the coil in his belly. He and Carolyn would be fine once they were on the mission. He had to believe that.

Blair was surprised to see Rafe and Henri in the commissary the following morning. In fact, he was surprised at how busy the cafeteria was despite the early hour. Blair had awakened at four thirty after another nightmare, only this one had been different. He couldn't remember any specifics; only an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Unable to fall back asleep, Blair rose and arrived at the commissary at oh five fifteen.

Getting his customary bagel, juice, and coffee, Blair joined his two friends. Although he kept his empathy tamped down, he couldn't help but notice a lingering exhaustion in both Rafe and Henri.

"Morning, Blair," Rafe greeted.

"Hey, Hairboy," Henri said, his tone subdued.

"Morning. I didn't expect to see you two for another few days," Blair said.

Rafe shrugged. "Our recon mission ended early."

Blair leaned forward and said in a low voice. "Jim told me about the Confederates out there."

"When did you see him?" Rafe asked, puzzled.

"I didn't. He commed me last evening. He said he'd be going on a recon mission so I probably wouldn't see him for a little while."

Rafe glanced at Henri, then back at Blair. "That's right."

"Do you know when he leaves?"

"This morning," Rafe replied. He pushed back his empty tray. "Things may be different after today."

Blair's blood ran cold. "What do you mean? Did something happen to Jim?"

Rafe held up his hands. "No, no. He's fine."

For right now. Although Rafe nor Henri spoke the words, Blair heard the thought as clearly as if it had been shouted. Blair's appetite fled, replaced by frantic anxiety. "What's going on?" he demanded. The blood left Blair's face. "Jim's going on a suicide mission, isn't he?"

"Whoa, slow down, Hairboy," Henri said in a low voice. "Nobody said anything about a suicide mission."

Blair closed his eyes in relief and his empathy flared abruptly. Waves of expectation, nervousness, and anticipation rippled around him, leaving him gasping in its wake.

"Come on, Blair, don't do that," Henri said firmly. "Tighten up your shields."

Blair breathed through the cresting emotions until they receded. He leaned over the table and said quietly but intently, "Tension is rolling off everyone in this room. What the hell is going on?"

"We can't tell you," Rafe said, his expression set in stone, so unlike his customary easy-going manner.

"It involves Jim and his guide, though, doesn't it?"

"Leave it alone, Blair," Henri said, his use of his real name giving away the seriousness of the situation. "You're not Jim's guide." Although the words were harsh, his tone was apologetic.

Blair's chest burned with something akin to grief. Henri was right. Blair had passed on his chance to become Jim's guide and now he was paying the price for his hasty decision. He forced himself to nod. "You're right. Could you please keep me posted about Jim -- as much as you can?" he asked formally.

Rafe's expression softened. "We will." He glanced at the chronometer. "We have to go but we'll see you at dinner."

Rafe took hold of Henri's elbow and helped him to his feet. The guide grimaced as he held his other arm tight against his side.

"What happened?" Blair asked.

"I didn't duck fast enough," H replied with a wink. "Just a scratch."

Rafe snorted, but didn't argue. Blair figured it was an argument the pair had already engaged.

"Take it easy," Blair said, his worry for Henri rolling into his fear for Jim.

"Rafe will make sure I do," Henri said, rolling his eyes.

Blair smiled weakly and watched them leave the commissary together. He noticed many of the white-coated diners were leaving, too. He'd seen some of the white jackets before but wasn't certain where those people worked. Heeding a hunch, he followed a small group of them out of the commissary. He pretended to study the wall as they waited for an elevator. When they stepped aboard one, he joined them. Someone punched the lowest level button and glanced at Blair.

"Same," he said with a smile, hoping no one would realize he didn't work on that floor.

It was a dizzying ride down but finally it came to a gentle stop and everyone got out. Blair kept behind the group and wasn't surprised when they all stopped at the same door. He continued past them and took the first turn. Stopping, he peeked around the corner and could see part of the large room they entered. It looked familiar then he remembered why. Although his first day here was fuzzy, he recalled some kind of room filled with computers. At the far end of the cavernous area had been a large ring made of some kind of alloy. He had no idea what it was then, or now.

Armed with his knowledge, Blair went back to the elevators and rode up to his research office. He used his card and the door whisked open. The room was empty except for Dr. Kelso, who was already immersed in his work.

"Blair. You're here early," Dr. Kelso said, minimizing his comp screen.

Suddenly every little thing seemed suspicious to Blair, including Kelso removing what was on his monitor. He was tired of being out of the loop and anxious about Jim. "What are they working on in the lowest level of the facility?" he asked without preamble.

Dr. Kelso's expression didn't change as he studied Blair. "Have you been down there?"

"Just now. But I was there the day I arrived, too."

"What do you remember?"

Blair didn't like the twenty questions, but answered, "The room was big, filled with computers and there was like a huge metal circle at one end of it."

Dr. Kelso wheeled around Blair and led him to a back room Blair hadn't been in. Kelso reached for a book from one of the stacks on a rectangular table and handed it to Blair. "Take a look," Kelso said.

Frowning, Blair read the title. "The Physics of Time." He shrugged at Kelso. "My specialty is anthropology, not physics."

"I know, but I'd like you to sit in here and read the first three chapters. When you're done, come out and find me."

Bewildered, Blair nodded and settled down in a chair to begin reading. He was barely aware of Dr. Kelso leaving.

Over two hours later, Blair laid the book down with shaking hands. He picked up another book from the scattered piles on the table. The Timetables of World History. The Peoples Chronology. A Bang or a Whisper -- The Birth of a Universe.

Each and every one of the books was either a chronicle of history or a physics book. The pieces began to fall into place and Blair's stomach knotted. He wanted to deny it, to go back to yesterday morning when he was ignorant of what power lie beneath the ground.

Suddenly the floor and walls seemed to tremble. The air became close and hot. Sweat popped out of his pores as he fought a round of nausea and dizziness. He clutched his stomach, praying he wouldn't be sick. He stumbled to his feet, not certain where to go but knowing he was supposed to be somewhere else.

Dr. Kelso along with the four technicians who worked in research glanced up at him, and did a double-take. Stefan and Michelle were the closest and they each grabbed one of Blair's arms to hold him upright.

"What's wrong, Blair?" Kelso asked, his voice firm but Blair sensed his underlying concern.

"We-we need to talk," Blair said to his boss.

"Please help him into my office," Kelso said to the sentinel-guide pair.

Once there, Stefan and Michelle lowered him into a chair.

"Are you bonded?" Michelle, the guide, asked Blair.

"Sentinel Kincaid had me in a light bond, but that was broken after I escaped." Blair lowered his throbbing head in his hands. "They only use a light bond because if the guide is beaten to death for disobeying his or her sentinel, it's easier to get another one," he explained matter-of-factly.

Michelle gasped and reached for Stefan, who took her hand.

"You're exhibiting all the symptoms of a guide who's lost his sentinel," Stefan explained in his low, steady voice.

"Thank you, Michelle, Stefan. I'd like to speak with Blair alone," Dr. Kelso said.

The pair nodded and left the office.

"Would you like some water?" Kelso asked gently.

"No, thanks." Blair raised his head and squinted to focus through the headache. "Could Jim and I have bonded without us realizing it?"

Kelso chuckled. "I've never heard of it happening, but then you and Jim seem to be a unique pair." He sobered. "If I believed the old stories, I'd say you and Jim are a true sentinel-guide pair."

"I thought a sentinel could only bond with one guide at a time."

"Maybe he didn't bond with Carolyn."

A sharp spasm made Blair gasp.

"What is it?" Kelso asked anxiously.

"Where's Jim?" Blair asked, trying to breathe evenly to ease the pain.

Kelso glanced at the chronometer and his gaze darted back to Blair. "He left five minutes ago."

Blair grabbed Kelso's shirt front. "He went through a time machine, didn't he? Damn it, tell me!"

Kelso nodded slowly. "Yes."

Blair released Kelso and staggered to his feet. His symptoms were lessening, but there was a hole in the pit of his stomach. "Something's wrong. Can you get me in that room?"

It took Kelso only a moment to decide. "Come on."

Blair had to jog to keep up with Kelso's wheelchair. As they hurtled down in the elevator, Blair flinched. He would've sworn he felt Jim's presence. Once they were outside the control room door, Kelso swiped his card and they entered together.

The room didn't seem quite as huge as Blair remembered it. General Banks stood beside a black man and a tall redheaded woman who were sitting by the front console while other white-jacketed technicians watched various computers and readouts. Rafe and H were off to the side of the general. Tense expectancy filled Blair's pores.

"Where's Jim?" Blair demanded.

Banks spun around, his face an angry mask. "What's he doing here?"

"I think he somehow bonded to Jim," Kelso explained with a shrug. "He knew something happened to him as soon as he went through the gate." He gazed at the blank circle at the front of the room. "Where are they?"

"We're not sure," the woman replied sharply, her gaze not leaving her comp screen. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

"Near as we can figure, the early 1940's in France," Taggert said, his attention glued to his screen, too.

Blair's heart tripped. "World War Two. Adolph Hitler. Nazis. Anti-semitism." He wiped a shaky hand across his forehead. "Does Jim or Carolyn have a background in history?"

"Jim's done some studying from Dr. Kelso's texts," Banks answered shortly. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"What was supposed to happen?" Blair asked, his gaze piercing Banks.

"Their mission was to disrupt the Confederacy during key incidents during the Eugenics War so they'd lose," Banks explained.

"But this is like three hundred years before that."

"Don't you think we know that, Sandburg?" Although Banks' voice was harsh, Blair knew it was worry that prompted his impatience.

"What happened?"

"We're not sure," Dr. Taggert said, his distressed voice matching his expression. "We thought we had the parameters correct but it didn't work."

"Bring them back," Blair said, his fists clenched by his sides.

"We can't. We don't even know exactly where in time and place they are," Taggert said in frustration. "And even if we did, the generator needs twelve hours to recycle enough power to activate the gate. Provided we can get a fix on them, we can open the gate so they can come back through."

"Damn it, people, we need to find them," Banks growled.

Blair's belly cramped and he pressed his arms against his waist. "Something's wrong."

"Really?" Banks' sarcasm could've sliced through metal.

More afraid for Jim than fearful of the general, Blair glared at Banks. "Something's happening to Jim. I can feel it."

"Did you and Jim bond?" Rafe asked gently.

Blair swallowed hard, coming to terms with the truth himself. "Not intentionally. Somehow it just happened."

"But what about Carolyn?" Dr. Taggert asked.

"Maybe she's not a full guide," Dr. Kelso said quietly.

Silent, questioning gazes settled on the historian.

"How could that be?" Henri asked. "Wouldn't Jim have noticed?"

"Maybe she had just enough empathy to fool him," Blair said, trying to ignore the tugging pain in his head. "And no other guide read her because Freedom guides have too much integrity."

"Someone brought the Confederate close to this position," Rafe suddenly said, his voice tense.

"Someone like Carolyn," H finished, catching on quickly to what his sentinel was inferring.

"We have no proof," Banks argued.

"They could be right, Simon," Dr. Kelso said, his use of the general's given name telling Blair they were long-time friends. "Carolyn was brought here blindfolded but that was only for the last couple of miles. She probably sent on what information she had and the Confederate narrowed down the area."

"Rafe," Banks said. "I want you and H to check the comm logs out of Plummer's room. See if she called anyone off-facility."

"Yes, sir," Rafe said. He and Henri hustled out of the control room.

"And if she did, what then, Simon?" Kelso asked quietly.

General Banks' forehead creased with tension. "We slap her in a cell as soon as she and Jim return."

"If they get back," Blair murmured. He strengthened his shields against what he believed were Jim's thoughts and feelings, but even so, he could sense the sentinel's pain. Either he was physically hurt, zoned, or his senses were spinning out of control. Or all three.

Sickness rose in his throat and he choked it back. He closed his eyes and concentrated on projecting soothing emotions to Jim.

"What's he doing?" Banks asked, sounding like he was far away.

"I think he's trying to use the bond," Kelso said quietly. "Just leave him be."

The general grumbled but didn't argue.

Voices came and went, but Blair kept himself locked in his self-induced trance, trying to reach out to Jim. He felt someone press him into a chair and he sat automatically.

"We got 'em," Dr. Conner's exultant voice came through loud and clear some time later.

Blair brought himself back, surprised to find Rafe and Henri standing on either side of him like bookends.

"What's going on?" Blair asked.

"They think they've found Jim," Rafe replied.

Although Blair wondered how they'd managed to find him in a single instance in time, he was more concerned about Jim's condition.

"We're getting a visual," Dr. Taggert said excitedly.

Blair followed everyone's line of sight to the large metal circle at the front of the laboratory. Like an ent-vid, a picture coalesced within the circle and Blair rose, his knees shaking.

Jim's face was contorted in anguish and he had his hands pressed to his ears. He was curled into a ball in the corner of what looked to be a bombed-out brick building. And his "guide" eyed him with what only Blair could describe as contempt. Blair took an involuntary step toward the circle as Jim's pain swirled through him. "She's going to kill him."

Tense silence met his cry of alarm. Blair could feel apprehension radiating off everyone caught in the drama being played out three hundred years ago.

"There's nothing we can do," Dr. Taggert said, his voice rough.

"Jim knew what he was getting into when he volunteered for this assignment," Banks said, his jaw clenched.

"But he sure as hell didn't know his own guide would turn against him." Blair fisted his hands at his sides.

"There's nothing anybody can do for another four hours," Dr. Kelso said.

Blair blinked. No wonder his body was sore and stiff. He'd been in his own type of zone for nearly eight hours.

Rafe watched his fellow sentinel deal with sensory overload and grimaced. "Hopefully Jim can get back then." He glanced at Blair and his expression softened. "Comm logs showed that Plummer made off-facility calls to one number. And that number was connected to another and another. She's a Confederate spy, Blair."

The young guide could've cared less if she was a polka-dotted chicken. The only thing he was concerned about was his sentinel. His sentinel. Jim needed him... and Blair needed Jim.

"Rafe's right," Banks said brusquely. "Everyone continue at your stations. All we can do is watch."

Which was the one of the hardest things Blair had ever done.

Blair was grateful for Rafe and Henri's company as they stayed near him throughout the remaining time. Henri had gone to the commissary to get him something to eat but Blair refused it.

With less than an hour before the gate was re-activated, Jim managed to pull himself out of the sensory overload but Blair knew he had a terrible headache. Besides sensing it, he could see pain-etched lines in his brow and at the corners of his eyes. Carolyn remained tucked into a corner of their shelter, shooting piercing glares at Jim. The sentinel remained quiet but Blair suspected he had put two and two together.

Suddenly, sound filled the high-ceilinged room as the audio began to function. There was the faint sound of gunfire and occasionally a high-pitched whistle followed by a loud blast. Falling bombs.

Henri stepped close to the grimacing Rafe and laid his hand on his sentinel's arm. He spoke in a low soothing tone. For a moment, envy filled Blair. He wanted to do the same to Jim, help him and ease his senses.

"You're not a guide, are you?" Jim's voice startled everyone.

With her palms curved around a gun, Carolyn glanced up at him. "Barely. But it was enough to fool you."

Jim's jaw muscle clenched and unclenched. "So who are you?"

She shrugged insolently. "Major Carolyn Plummer of the Confederate Elite."

Blair felt the shock of everyone in the room. The Confederate Elite wasn't made up of your run-of-the-mill spies -- they were the deep cover spies, the ones who spent years working their way into influential positions in the Freedom group. It was even believed they'd kill fellow Confederates to prove their loyalty.

"How did a person with some guide capabilities wind up in the Elite?" Jim asked. "I thought guides were lower than nothing in the Confederate."

"Usually they are, but I was in the Elite before the empathy--" she sneered "--came on-line. I didn't try to hide it but came up with the plan to infiltrate Freedom using what I had. The director himself approved it."

"So you were the one who led the Confederate to our front door."

"Not as close as I wanted, but it was all I could manage." She straightened. "The Confederate suspected Freedom was working on something big, but the consensus was a bomb. They'll be stunned to learn it was the secret of time travel, but then they'll figure out ways to use it to ensure the Confederate's dominion."

Jim's body was as tense as a bowstring and his face drawn. "And how are they going to find out about it?"

"When I return to our own time, I'll pass on the information."

Jim laughed harshly. "And you think I'm going to let you get away with doing that?"

She shrugged and raised her weapon. "How are you going to stop me when you're dead?"

Blair's blood froze in his veins and his knees threatened to buckle. As if sensing his terror, Rafe and H grasped his arms to keep him upright.

"You do realize that everything you're saying and doing is being seen back in the control room, don't you?" Jim said.

Carolyn's eyes widened then she laughed. "Nice try, Jimmy.

"It's true. Go ahead. Read me. You'll be able to tell if I'm lying or not."

Her expression turned ugly. "I can't do that."

"Gee, big surprise."

"Stop goading her, Jim," Blair murmured fearfully.

"Only twenty minutes until the gate opens," Henri said.

As if she'd heard Henri, Carolyn said, "It's time to get back to the gate origin point. Do you hear anything?"

At first it looked like Jim was going to ignore her but finally, he shook his head. "No."

And he was right -- the sounds of war had ceased for the time-being.

"You lead." Carolyn motioned to the opening in the brick wall.

Blair wrapped his arms around his waist, fearful for Jim and what Carolyn had planned for him. Would she just shoot him before coming through the gate? Did she believe his assertion that the control room was following their every move?

The tension in the control room grew, and Blair had to fortify his barriers. With his own nerves zinging, he couldn't tolerate any more strain.

Jim led the way through the rubble, his head tipped slightly as he listened.

"Don't concentrate too hard," Blair warned the sentinel even though he knew Jim couldn't hear him.

Yet, as if he'd heard him, Jim lost the look of an impending zone but Blair didn't like his pale complexion. He was hurting and his senses were on edge. It wouldn't take much to fall over the precipice into a major zone.

"Ten minutes," Dr. Conner announced.

"Countdown commenced," one of the technicians said.

Blair could almost feel the build-up of power within the gate. Dim lights chased around the circular gate. In the center of it, Jim and Carolyn worked their way through a war-torn city. Even if the gate worked, a hundred other things could happen. Jim could be ambushed on the way to the gate. Carolyn could decide to get rid of him with a bullet.

The lights grew brighter as the countdown continued.

Four minutes. Three. Two.

"This is the place," Jim said to Carolyn.

He stood about five feet from the spy but Carolyn had her finger on the gun's trigger. If Jim made a move...

"Now what?" Jim asked, his voice deceptively mild.

"Now we wait and when it opens, I'll get rid of you then go through. I'll tell everyone you were killed." Her smile chilled Blair. "Poor Guide Plummer just lost her sentinel. Everyone will be so sympathetic."

"Think again, lady," General Banks murmured, his voice cold. "The only thing you'll get is a cell."

Blair couldn't help but feel a wave of satisfaction at Banks' words. Plummer would get what she deserved. Now, if only Jim made it back, too.

"Ten seconds," Dr. Conner called out. "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

The earth trembled as the energy built. The picture of Jim and Carolyn wavered and disappeared. The hair on Blair's arms stood on end and a shiver chased down his spine as a dull thwump signaled the energy's crescendo. Light and power mated to form a spiral of white energy that ripped through time's barriers. Blair shielded his eyes from the light's intensity.

Thick silence filled the huge room as each person waited, wondering who was going to come through the gate. Or if anyone would come through at all.

Suddenly the white light wavered and someone jumped through the portal. Blair squinted, trying to see who it was. All he could make out was a figure -- a figure that was too small to be Jim.

Rafe and Henri flew past Blair and grabbed Carolyn, relieving her of her weapon and imprisoning her arms behind her back.

"What's going on?" she asked, playing innocent.

"Where's Jim?" Banks demanded.

"H-he's dead," she stammered, even managing a tear for good measure.

"No!" Blair shouted. "He's not!"

"Ten seconds until the gate closes," Dr. Conner shouted above the din.

Blair's heart lodged in his throat. Jim was on the other side of the gate. Alone. Hurt. Maybe dying.

Without a second thought, he dived into the white light.

"Blair!"

"No!"

Rafe and Henri's voices echoed eerily around Blair as he fell toward destiny.

Stay tuned for the next episode: "Headlong into Destiny"

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