NOT an AU! Can you believe it? This one is canon. Post-TS by BS when the guys have fixed all that went wrong with them in the last year of the show. Don't know how it got fixed, but Blair is still at the university. There are plenty of excellent stories that explain that so I won't bother. Jim is not Jim in this one. He's a psycho. And he's after Blair. H/C and angst. And smarm. Rated PG for a little bit of language and one bloody (but short) scene about in the middle. Italics indicate thoughts or television voices.
Thanks to Shallan for her watchful eye for grammar, punctuation and typos. Also for having the nerve to point out my plot holes. Thanks to Dawn for her impressive knowledge on cloning.
Also thanks to Kathy for her medical advice. Hopefully they will keep me from looking like an idiot.
Java Head
Light blue eyes watched Blair Sandburg from a distance, which normally would have required binoculars. His heightened vision allowed the tall, dark-haired man to pursue the unsuspecting teacher unnoticed.
The stalker observed his prey with a mixture of interest and contempt. His Controllers would be furious that he had deviated from their plans for him. They would probably even try to have him eliminated, but they should have left Sandburg out of the plans. The young man stirred in him feelings of dependence and protection that went against his training and left him confused and irritable. He had to find out what it was about Sandburg that drew him. Then do something about it.
He would wait and abduct Sandburg from his apartment where the student would be the least suspecting. The man chuckled to himself as he watched the long-haired man walk across the University campus. He couldn't wait.
Blair paced the loft, nervously waiting for Jim to get home. He'd long since given up trying to occupy his hands and mind. He had called Jim from his office, but the detective was on stakeout, with his cell either out of range or out of juice. So Blair had left a message that he needed to talk with him immediately. Jim's shift was over and he should be home anytime now.
He jumped when he heard the front door open, both relieved and panic-stricken when he saw Jim enter the apartment. He stopped pacing and stared wide-eyed at Jim. Before, he'd been desperate to talk to him, but now his vocal cords seemed to be paralyzed.
Jim looked at him with amusement glittering in his blue eyes. "What's up, Sandburg? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Blair's words rushed from him in a flood. "Jim, man. I... I think my computer was hacked into... my personal files... my... all my information about Sentinels." He looked up. "All my information about you."
He was so upset that he didn't notice the malicious glint in the taller man's eyes. The corner of Jim's mouth turned up a little more. "You lost your files?" he asked mockingly. He stepped toward Blair.
"N... no. They're still in the computer. But they... I think somebody read them... maybe even copied them." Jim's odd behavior was making him even more nervous.
Jim took another step toward Blair. The Anthropologist unconsciously took a step backward.
"Didn't you have some kind of secret password or safeguard on your files, Sandburg?"
"Y... yeah, of course. But there are ways past those if someone is good enough, b... but they would have had to know... they couldn't have just stumbled upon them..."
Jim moved so fast that Blair barely saw him before he found himself shoved against the wall by the front of his shirt. Jim's nose was mere inches from his own. The Sentinel snarled through clenched teeth. "I always knew you were incompetent, Sandburg! I don't know why I even let you ride with me. I'm lucky I haven't been killed with you around!"
"Jim..." Blair's voice was trembling. "...Jim... please, man, you don't mean that..."
Jim slammed him against the wall again. "Yes, I do! You're nothing but a sniveling weakling. A pest." Spitting out the last word, he threw Blair across the room. Breaking his fall with his right hand, Blair felt something in his wrist give. Biting back a cry of pain, he cradled his arm as he pushed himself to his knees. He looked up to see Jim pulling something from the inside pocket of his jacket.
"Jim. What's going on? What's wrong?"
Jim smiled at him. "We're going on a little trip, buddy." He showed Blair a syringe.
Blair's eyes opened wide. "No!" he yelled as he jumped to his feet and ran for the door, but Jim was too fast for him. He grabbed Blair by the arm and slammed him face first into the wall. Stunned, Blair felt the sting of a needle in the side of his neck. Then his world spun into darkness.
Jim Ellison drove hurriedly home. Blair's message had him worried. The kid was given to excitability, but this sounded like a 'life or death' situation. He'd headed straight home from the station when he couldn't get him on the phone.
He was just turning onto the street in front of the loft when he swerved to miss a car that had pulled out in front of him going in the opposite direction. Angrily, he glanced at the driver and was mildly surprised to realize that the man looked like... him! It was when he did a quick double-take that he noticed a mass of dark brown, curly hair low in the back seat.
"Sandburg! What the...?"
Jim did a tight U-turn and began to follow the car while punching in numbers on his cell phone. He cursed loudly when he remembered about the drained battery. Tossing the useless instrument aside, he memorized the car's make and license number.
The driver looked in his mirror and noticed Jim following him. Putting on a burst of speed, he turned right at the next intersection going the wrong way down a one-way street. Without hesitation, Jim followed. The street was mostly deserted for the first couple of blocks and Ellison was gaining when it seemed somebody had opened the gates. Jim spent the next several seconds swerving crazily to dodge the oncoming cars and returning curses and obscene gestures. He squinted at the blaring horns and was forced to brake to narrowly miss a pickup that pulled out of an alley. Jim flipped open his wallet and waved his badge at the angry drivers and pedestrians that suddenly surrounded him and by the time he untangled his vehicle from the mob, the look-alike, along with his Guide and best friend, had disappeared.
When Blair was ten, he'd had his tonsils removed. When he woke up, his head felt heavy and full, like it was stuffed with sand. His throat was raw and full of mucous. Sounds were distorted and everything looked bright and out of focus. That's exactly how he felt now.
He closed his eyes and waited for his head and senses to clear. Oh man, I feel sick. Better tell Jim to get some more Tylenol -- I think we're out -- Jim! -- Oh no! He gasped. Then felt someone move close to him.
"Hey, Sandburg baby. How ya feelin'?"
Unwillingly, he cracked open his eyes. He was lying on his back with Jim bent directly over him, his eyes shining with amusement. The light hurt Blair's eyes and when he moved to shield them with his arm, he realized his hands were bound in front of him
"You take a long time to wake up, you know that ya little freak? Could hear your breathing changing for quite awhile now." He chuckled. "Hey, you don't look so good."
Blair tried to answer and discovered that he was also gagged. Unyielding and sticky. Duct tape. This was bad. Real bad. What was wrong with Jim? Blair figured he'd be mad about the files, but this was nuts!
"Whoops! Forgot about the tape." Jim gripped an edge of the tape and yanked it roughly off Blair's face. The younger man grunted in pain. "Sorry about the gag, but you talk in your sleep. I was getting pretty sick of listening to you."
"Jim, what happened? What's going on with you?"
"Waddaya mean, buddy?"
"Something's wrong with you! Where are we? Why'd you drug me?" He swallowed painfully. "Can I have some water? My throat really hurts."
"Sandburg, you're such a wimp." Jim got up and went into the bathroom.
Blair tried to think as he struggled to sit up. It was amazing what a chore that was without the use of his hands. Looking around, he recognized the unique decorating style of a cheap hotel. He heard the sound of water running. What's going on? Can't think straight. God help me. This is so bad. What's happened to Jim? I've never seen him like this. I've seen him furious, almost insane with anger, even out of control of his emotions, but I have never seen him like this. He has never hurt me before. Sure, he's said things before that hurt me, but never intentionally vicious like this.
Jim came out of the bathroom with a glass of water in his hand. "Here Sandburg, ya little baby."
In spite of his fear, the constant baiting made Blair angry. He glared at the tall man over the rim of the cup Jim supported for him. When he finished drinking, he pulled angrily away from the cup. "It's the drug you gave me that's making me thirsty. What's the matter with you?"
Jim looked at him with a dangerous shine in his eyes. "Nothing's the matter, Sandburg. You deserve to be punished for losing those files. You're getting pretty good at screwing up my life, you know?"
"Punished? Come on, Jim! This is crazy! Let me go!" Terror causing him to forget he was being held captive by a seemingly insane Sentinel, Blair realized he was shouting. Swallowing, he resumed speaking in a soft voice, the one he used to help Jim relax or to remember something. "Please let me go, Jim. My wrist is killing me." He held out his trembling hands beseechingly to his partner.
With blinding speed, Jim grabbed Blair's shirt and jumped to his feet, slamming Blair against the wall. Holding the smaller man against the wall with his left arm, he grabbed a handful of the long hair and punctuated every other word by hitting Blair's head against the wall.
"I think ~thump~ you really ~thump~ need to ~thump~ shut your ~thump~ big mouth ~thump~ before something ~thump~ really bad ~thump~ happens to you ~thump~!"
"Jim! Stop it! Please!"
Suddenly Jim's hands were around Blair's neck, fingers squeezing, cutting off his air. Finally realizing that the man would probably kill him in a murderous rage, Blair used every last ounce of strength and drew up his legs and kicked Jim in the stomach, propelling the Sentinel across the room as Blair dropped to the floor. But Blair was too weak and too busy trying to breathe to run. Then Jim was lifting him off the floor and hitting him, ignoring Blair's cries of pain and pleas to stop.
Blair's return to consciousness was more clear-headed but more painful than before. He noticed gratefully that his wrists were no longer taped. He was lying on one of the hotel beds. He could hear no movement from the Sentinel. He was either asleep, in the can or out. Blair didn't care which, as long as he left him alone.
He had to figure out what was wrong with Jim. He was acting so unlike himself that Blair wondered about a look-alike or plastic surgery. But Jim had gotten very close to him several times and it was Jim. Every line, every angle of Jim's face was exactly, perfectly Jim. The voice was Jim's. He even smelled like Jim. Everyone has their own scent and you don't live with, ride with and study a man for three years without knowing his scent.
But his personality was all wrong. Jim had never injured Blair before. Had never been violent toward him in any was. In Jim's worst moments he had never been like this. There were times when he was hard and cold, unreachable and even cruel, but never violent.
It was like he'd been possessed by an alien. Or brainwashed. That might be a possibility, but he'd been fine this morning. This morning? How long have I been here? And even with his limited knowledge of such things, Blair knew it took a long time to so completely brainwash a person. He really didn't think Jim could be brainwashed. The guy was such a rock.
Okay. So far we have Jim's body, but somebody else's brain. What else is off? Blair tried to think back to when he'd last seen Jim as Jim. This morning (or whenever?), he was wearing his green short-sleeved silk button-down with khakis and hiking boots. What had be been wearing when he attacked me in the loft? He'd been so upset he hadn't even noticed. Come on Sandburg! You've helped Jim through this a hundred times! He willed his body to relax and let his mind carry itself back to the loft. He'd been standing in the kitchen when Jim had walked through the door. He was wearing a brown leather jacket. Wait a minute, wait a minute, Jim's leather jacket is black. He used to have a brown one but that drunk we arrested a couple months ago hurled all over Jim and even after dry-cleaning it, Jim could still smell the odor of vomit clinging to it. Blair couldn't see the shirt because he'd still had the jacket on. What color pants had be been wearing? Blue jeans? Yeah. But he could've changed. Police work involved a lot of messy accidents (like bums puking on you) but there was still the jacket. What else? Couldn't see his shoes. What about his hair? Jim had gotten it cut last week. Blair had noticed this morning (?) that right after he gets it cut, it sure shows how much it's thinning out. But now it was longer, thicker. Not real noticeable except to someone who was with him on a daily basis. Anything else? Jewelry? Jim doesn't wear jewelry. Not even a ring. Funny that the ear he used to wear an earring in still hadn't closed in...!
Blair gasped. (Ow ribs.) His ear lobe! Was it still pierced? Jim had been in his face several times that day, but that hole was so small. He couldn't remember. He could be wrong about the hair, but not the ear!
What was he gonna do if he found out it wasn't Jim? Who was he then? His body, his face, voice, even his scent was Jim! But now that he thought about it, there were all those little character details that were all wrong. Like the way he talked, his use of words. But he was a Sentinel. He said he could hear the change in Blair's breathing. It was as though physically, he was a carbon copy of Jim. Like a... like a... clone. No way.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard Jim (?) enter the hotel room. He wanted to pretend he was still unconscious. It hurt too much to move (never irritate an insane Sentinel) and he was afraid of what the man might do next. But you can't keep those kinds of secrets from a man with heightened senses. So he opened his eyes and, with a lot of pain and effort, pushed himself up in a sitting position.
Leaning back against the wall, he warily watched the tall man move across the room and set a bag down on the table. He seemed to be ignoring Blair. He sat down and turned on the TV. After a couple of minutes he turned sullen blue eyes on Blair.
"What are you looking at, hippie?"
Blair swallowed. "I need to get up." He spoke carefully. This man was so unstable. Like a spoiled two-year old or an emotional fourteen-year old.
Jim (?) turned back to the TV and waved toward the bathroom, as though Blair was insignificant.
Not daring to ask the man for help, Blair gritted his teeth against his pain and, with as much dignity as possible, he crawled off the bed and hobbled toward the bathroom. His eyes rested longingly on the exit door as he passed by it.
"Don't even think it, Sandburg."
Blair sighed and halted. "I don't suppose you have Asprin or Tylenol?"
Blair flinched as the man stood up. "Chill, freak. I'm not 'gonna hurt you." He looked at Blair as he handed the younger man the plastic bag. "For now," he added and smiled. "Funny how simple words make your heart rate speed up."
Blair turned and carried the bag into the bathroom with him.
First things first. After relieving himself (no blood in his urine -- that was a good sign) he turned to wash his hands and get a drink of water. He was stunned at his reflection in the mirror. Holy cow! He'd been beat up a lot of times, but he really couldn't remember his face ever looking this bad. The real Jim will probably kill the guy when he sees this. No wonder he was hurting so bad.
Blair really didn't want to see what shape the rest of his body was in, but breathing was painful and he had to see if his ribs were intact. He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and pulled it off. Then he carefully peeled off his t-shirt and stood in front of the mirror.
Okay, his torso pretty much resembled his face. There were a couple of shoe-shaped bruises that Blair suspected he'd gotten after he'd blacked out. Oh, God please get me out of here. This guy is really crazy. Blair carefully ran his fingers over his ribs but couldn't feel anything. Jim could tell. Handy guy to have around. Of all his injuries, he'd never had broken ribs so he didn't know what they felt like. Probably like cracked ones except more painful. Those he'd had. This felt pretty much the same. He hoped they were only cracked. He stifled a hysterical giggle. What a thing to wish for. Tiredly, he leaned his head against the mirror.
Pounding on the door made him jump. "You okay, Sandburg? Your heart's doing somersaults!" Jim (?) shouted in a laughing voice.
"Yeah! Just peachy!" Stop listening to my heart!
"You're taking too long! Hurry up!"
"Gimme a little more time to clean up! Okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. Just hurry!"
Blair opened the bag and pulled out a jumbo bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. Hope this isn't an omen of things to come. He shook out three tablets and quickly swallowed them, washing them down with about two glasses of water. Man, I'm thirsty! How long since I had water?
Carefully, he cleaned the blood from his face and body. The psycho Sentinel must either be sorry for hurting me, or wants me alive a little longer. Or maybe he just doesn't know what to do with me. Then using antiseptic from the bag, treated his numerous cuts and scrape, taking care not to use his bad hand. There was a nasty gash under his eye that probably should have a stitch or two. Instead, Blair fashioned a butterfly bandage from a box of band-aids he found in the bag. Putting his shirts back on and drinking one more glass of water, he took a deep breath and emerged from the bathroom.
The Sentinel was still watching TV. Blair stood in front of the bathroom door, unsure of what to do.
"Sit, Sandburg." The Sentinel indicated the chair on the other side of the small table.
Warily, Blair sat down to face the man.
"Why are you afraid of me, Sandburg? I'm your partner!"
"You hurt me."
"You deserved it."
Blair shook his head in denial. "You're not Jim," he said in a low voice.
The older man narrowed his eyes in a warning look. "What are you talking about?"
"Jim would never hurt me."
"You were stupid, Sandburg. All your information on me is in somebody else's hands. Your carelessness has put my life in danger -- again."
Blair was tired of this merry-go-round. It was just this guy's excuse to pound on him. He knew he was pushing this very dangerous man's buttons, but he had to get to the bottom of this.
"Jim has never hurt me before. And he would never give me drugs. And he would never abduct me and he doesn't call me names, and by the way, 'Jim', where'd you get the brown jacket? Last I knew, your leather jacket was black. And didn't you get your hair cut just last week?" Ignoring the warning bells going off inside his head, he took a breath and plunged on. "And one more thing, 'Jim'. How'd that pierced hole in your left lobe grow back so quickly?"
The man's hand quickly went to his ear lobe. "My ear isn't pierced."
"Jim's is. He doesn't wear an earring now, but he did when he was partnered with Pendergast, and the hole never grew shut. You don't have one."
Just then the Sentinel's finger moved on the volume button of the TV remote control and Blair's attention was drawn to the TV screen. He was surprised to see his own face. He recognized the picture as the one taken when he'd applied for his observer's credentials.
"Blair Sandburg, Teacher's Assistant at Rainier University, who is also an official consultant to Cascade Police Department has been missing since yesterday evening. It is believed that he was abducted from his home by a man impersonating his Cascade P.D. partner, Detective James Ellison. Sandburg was last seen with his abductor in the vicinity of his home on Prospect Avenue in a car that was later found to have been stolen." Also displayed on the screen was a picture of Jim.
Blair was so engrossed in the report that he hadn't noticed any movement from the Sentinel. He jumped when he realized the man was standing in front of him. Blair couldn't tell what he was concealing in his hand, but he had a suspicion what it might be.
"Time to go, Sandburg. They're looking for us. Chances are, the hotel manager has already reported us."
Blair got slowly to his feet, then found he was up against the wall wedged between the chair and the table. "Listen, man. You could still let me go," he said desperately. "What can I tell the cops? That a guy who looks like Jim kidnaped me? They already know that. Without me, you could move faster. Have a better chance of escaping. A great chance, actually, with your heightened senses."
'Jim' held up an object and, yes, it was a syringe. "Sorry, shorty. I'm not ready to let you go just yet."
Blair's heart spiked. Not again! As he talked, he slowly wrapped his left hand around the neck of the beer bottle 'Jim' had been drinking from.
"Come on, man! What do you want from me? You don't need me! Listen. I keep making you mad and you're gonna end up killing me. And let me tell you, if you kill me, the real Jim Ellison will hunt you down and make you sorry you ever laid eyes on me."
The twin leaned his left hand against the wall, pinning Blair in. He held the syringe threateningly in front of Blair's face. "Don't threaten me, hippie. Besides, I'm a Sentinel, too. What makes you think I can't stay ahead of Ellison?"
"Because I'm betting that Jim has been at this longer than you. In fact, I'm betting you're not even that old."
The twin moved the syringe closer to Blair. "'Nuff chit chat, Sandburg. We'll talk later."
Blair swung the bottle upward, hitting the man in the head, dropping him to the ground. Blair knocked the table out of his way and scrambled over the fallen Sentinel. Ignoring the pain in his wrist and ribs, he feverishly ran to the door.
He heard a moan behind him as he put his hand on the doorknob. Not wasting a second to look, he swing the door open and bolted outside.
The hotel was a collection of individual cabins out in the middle of the scenic nowhere. That's why nobody heard him beating the hell out of me. Blair could see no city lights or hear any sounds of civilization. Nothing but friggin trees. Great. The wind was picking up and he saw lightning in the distance. Better and better.
Holding his ribs, straining to breathe, he ran toward the hotel office. Stumbling through the door, he looked around hoping to find help.
"Hello! Hello! Is anybody here? I need help!" Forcing himself to calm down, he walked cautiously around the empty desk. And almost stepped on the dead body of the night clerk. "Oh, God, no." The man's throat had been cut.
Backing out of the puddle of blood he had stepped into, Blair looked around for a gun, a cell phone, anything that could help protect or rescue him.
Blair picked up the desk phone receiver. Dead. I'm trapped. Jim, what'll I do? He was running out of time. He knew he was battling great odds. That he was going to be caught. But he refused to give up. It just wasn't in him.
Looking quickly out the window, he could see no sign of the twin. He moved to the back door. Slowly pushing it open, he scanned the area outside. Just a few yards away was a thick forest. The approaching storm was closer now. With the wind, lightning and thunder, it could work to his advantages. The intense sensory input was difficult for a seasoned Sentinel to deal with and potentially devastating for a rookie Sentinel, as Blair suspected the twin was.
Seeing no one around, Blair ran for the trees. The young man had no sense of direction on a good day. In a strange forest, moderately injured, at night, in a storm, he knew he'd be hopelessly lost. But it beat being pounded to a pulp by a madman. He ran deeper into the woods.
After a few minutes of steady running, his adrenaline spike dissipated and all his pain returned. His ribs made breathing almost impossible. He didn't stop, but slowed to a walk, thankfully noticing that the storm had finally arrived. Normally he didn't care for storms, but its presence was a security measure. On a calm night, a Sentinel could follow his labored breathing and panicky heartbeat like a trail. As a bonus, it started to downpour.
Finally, Blair had to stop. He lifted his head to the sky and opened his mouth to catch some rain water. The worst of his thirst satisfied, he found a large tree that protected him from the worst of the rain and sat on the wet ground. He pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest to try to stop his violent shivering. Skin and clothes soaked, his long hair dripping water down his face and the back of his neck, he longed for the warm and dry loft. And for Jim.
The twin had stolen the car he'd transported Blair in. Was it at the hotel now or had he switched somewhere along the way? Someone would soon discover and report the hotel clerk's body. Either of these things would bring Cascade P.D. out here. And Jim. But would it be in time? Before the nut found him again? Before he finally killed him? Blair didn't think the maniac really wanted to kill him, but his temper was so violent and unstable.
A blinding flash of lightning and a loud crack of thunder made Blair jump. He squeezed his eyes shut against the glare. Oh, God, my head hurts. And I'm going to be in serious trouble with my ribs is I don't find help soon.
Trembling with cold, pain and exhaustion, Blair pushed himself to his feet. Gotta keep moving. Use the cover of the storm to travel. I can sleep when it stops.
Resisting the temptation to simply collapse, Blair continued on, even deeper into the forest.
The Sentinel ran through the rain drenched forest hunting his prey. He was furious at having been caught off-guard at the hotel room. It had taken him all of five minutes to regain consciousness from the blow Sandburg had given him. He had to give the kid credit. He sure packed a wallop. Gave him a blinding headache, too. He wasn't too mad at him at the time. Kind of admired the kid for his spirit. By the time he'd tracked his bloody footprints into the woods, the storm had arrived and was assaulting his senses. He bet that Sandburg knew about this and was using it to his advantage. By now he was half blind and deaf and had a crippling migraine.
He couldn't track him in this. He'd have to wait until the storm blew over. He found shelter in a shallow cave and quickly went to sleep.
For two hours Blair ran. Well, not ran exactly. Walked, stumbled, whatever it took to keep moving. He knew that movement could be dangerous if he had broken ribs. It could result in a punctured lung. But he had no choice. He had to put as much distance as possible between himself and the Evil Sentinel.
He pressed determinedly on, most of the time barely aware that he was still moving. Blair focused on the power and energy of the storm like a background beat and used that to carry him on.
He noticed that the storm was finally dying down. He was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. Relieved because he was exhausted. Disappointed because he knew the nut would resume his hunt.
Time to start looking for some kind of shelter. He'd spotted many caves through the course of the night. It would be logical that he'd seek shelter in one. Even with his senses, would the twin know which one? Caves had a way of distorting sound and direction. Blair had no other choice. Trees were definitely out. No way could he climb in his shape and then he'd be a sitting duck if he was spotted. Plus there was no protection from the elements. A cave it was. He had to be careful, though. Getting lost in the woods was one thing. A cave was a whole other story.
Blair finally found one that suited him. Actually, he almost fell into it. With the dark and the torrential rain, he didn't see that he was walking near a precipice. He stumbled and fell down the shallow ledge, about 5 feet down. Blair lay in a heap, curled against the pain in his ribs. Gasping desperately to fill his lungs, it was several minutes until he could see past the black spots that swam before his eyes. Finally able to move, he pushed himself to his feet and nudged aside the thick foliage and found the entrance to a smaller cave. It was well hidden. Perhaps even against a Sentinel.
Praying there was no wildlife inside, he crept into the dark cave. The ceiling was low. The cave was the width of a large hallway. About ten feet in, it curved to the left. Blair went a few feet into the curve then halted. It was reasonably dry and out of the wind.
Blair finally let himself drop to the ground, which was, thankfully, loose dirt and not rock. He wished he could remove his wet clothes, but it was too cold to expose his bare skin. He pulled off his shirts, wrung the water out of them, then put them back on. Then he removed his shoes and socks, wrung the water out of his socks and put them and the shoes back on. He thought his body heat would help dry the clothes.
Too tired to feel anything except the pain of his badly abused ribs, the soaked man curled up tightly and fell into a deep sleep.
Blair slept soundly for three hours. He was suddenly awakened by a clap of thunder that announced the arrival of another storm. Good. Take that, you mutant head case. He also realized that it was likely that Jim was also out in it. He was sorry for his friend's discomfort, but he knew that Jim was his best bet in getting out of this mess alive.
He tried unsuccessfully to move and groaned in pain. Stiffness from his many injuries and from his torturous journey through the woods had set in. He yearned for a hot shower. Stealing himself against the pain, Blair slowly pushed himself up. Finally sitting up, gasping for breath, he felt a tickle deep in his chest. No, no, oh please not now. Not with the ribs. Unable to stop it, Blair coughed. Hard. Oh man, oh man, oh God please help, it hurts, it hurts.
Ever since Alex Barnes drowned him in the university fountain, he'd been prone to respiratory illnesses. When he'd set out for the woods earlier that night, he knew this would happen.
~Cough~
He needed a drink. His dry throat was making it worse.
~Cough~ "Ow."
Causing painful shifting on his ribs and abdomen, he crawled toward the cave's entrance.
~Cough~
He could see daylight approaching through the storm.
~Cough~ "Ow."
As he rounded the curve in the cave wall, the cold wind hit him, causing him to shiver. Chills or just plain cold? Probably have a fever but in the middle of these conditions, I can't tell.
~Cough~
The rocky surface at the cave entrance formed small pools of water in the ground. Carefully, Blair leaned over and slurped water from the largest puddle. Finally, satisfying his deep thirst, he sat up, groaning.
~Cough~
His back to the side of the cave, he looked outside. He could see nothing but the thick woods and plants that hid his refuge.
~Cough~
Trembling from fever and cold, he turned and crawled back to the rear of the cave.
~Cough~
He leaned his shoulder against the cave, his back to the entrance. Lying down would make the cough worse. Cold and pain so filled his world, it was hard to believe that only a day and a half ago he had been without it.
He was starting to drift back to sleep when a hand slid over his mouth. When he jerked up, an arm wrapped around him, holding his arm tight against him. Wide awake and with terror obliterating his pain, he fought and squirmed desperately.
Caught! No! No! He's gonna kill me now! Too sick to fight! Jim!
A whispered voice in his ear. "Chief. It's me. It's Jim."
Blair continued to fight. It's a trick! He sounds like... smells like...
"Blair. Take it easy! You'll hurt yourself more." Urgent. Gentle.
The twin always called him 'Sandburg'. He never worried about Blair's injuries. Finally, Blair stopped struggling but mostly because he was too weak and sick and just couldn't fight anymore. The hand dropped from his mouth to rest upon his shoulder. Weakly, not trusting his voice to speak out loud, Blair whispered, "Jim, if it's really you, please tell me something only you and I would know." Blair closed his eyes and waited.
~Cough~
Finally, Jim spoke. "When I tasted Lee Brackett's toothpick, you covered for me and said you had tasted it. Everybody thought it was gross and like a slug, I didn't refute it."
Weak with relief, Blair collapsed back against Jim. The sudden dead weight surprised the Sentinel and he instinctively tightened both arms around his Guide. "Chief, you alright?" he asked softly, listening to Blair's efforts to control his breathing.
Finally, Blair answered him. "Yeah, man. I'm okay. I'm just to glad... you found me. Here, let me sit up." He tried to disengage himself from the Sentinel's grip.
Jim's arms tightened carefully. "Just stay here a minute. Okay, Chief? You're like ice."
Blair leaned back again. He felt Jim shift and settle behind him. "I thought this was just for a minute, Jim." ~Cough~
"You're too cold, Blair. You're not hypothermic, but you're still too cold. You need to warm up."
"'Kay," Blair whispered, too tired for anything else. He was starting to warm up and was getting drowsy. He let his head fall back on Jim's shoulder and felt Jim rest his cheek on the top of his head.
~Cough~ "Ribs... hurt, Jim." ~Cough~
"I know." Blair felt Jim's fingers slide softly over his ribs and abdomen. "Don't think they're broken, though, Chief. Bruised. Maybe cracked. Breathe slowly, Chief. And shallow. Let yourself relax. Don't tense. And don't talk."
Blair nodded his head. Carried away by Jim's calm voice and the warmth wrapped around him, he slept.
Jim knew that Blair needed stuff like Tylenol and food, but the kid was so totally done in that Jim didn't have the heart to disturb him. He wasn't in the best condition, but probably what he needed most was warmth and rest. The other stuff would wait.
He'd feared for Blair's well-being when he witnessed his abduction. Worry gnawing at him in the hours after he lost the car he'd last seen his friend in. Then he overheard the homicide call to the hotel and on a hunch decided to check it out. There were plenty of cops and detectives on the scene when he arrived, but his reputation preceded him and if anyone wondered why he was out of his jurisdiction, it didn't bother them enough to mention it.
After checking out the main office, they had questioned the occupants of the hotel and searched all the vacant cabins. Instinct borne of years of Ranger and Police training, or desperation to find his partner telling him to leave no stone unturned. He looked for something no one else was looking for: Evidence of Blair Sandburg.
The cabin Blair had been in was easy for him to find. There were small traces of blood on the beds, the floor and the bathroom sink and a washcloth and towel. Fingerprints were all over the place. Forensics would later identify them as matches for Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison. The blood would be matched with Sandburg's blood type. And Jim found several long, brown curling hairs.
The hotel office was a nightmare. Another hair from Blair's head was found near the body of the hotel clerk. And the bloody footprints leading outside were Blair's size and matched his sole pattern.
All of this was enough to initiate a manhunt for the murderer and his victim -- assumed to be Blair Sandburg. But, as usual, Jim's search soon led him away from the rest of the team and he was traveling alone. He preferred it that way. He could focus better, move faster and not waste time explaining his 'hunches'.
He knew the murderer who was also pursuing Blair looked like him. That was all he knew. There was no one on record who resembled him. And why had the man abducted Blair? What did he want? How badly had the anthropologist been hurt? Was he still on the run, or had he been captured again?
His Ranger training aided him in following the trail. With his sentinel senses, he found an occasional curly hair, drops of blood and the faint scent of his Guide, so familiar to him after three years of being together almost constantly. He was made uneasy by an itch up the back of his spine that he deeply associated with Alex Barnes. He didn't let himself think about what that might mean. But he used it to motivate him to hurry even faster.
The murderer, he could tell, was a good tracker. A good hunter. But he was no Jim Ellison. And he didn't have the personal bond, the 'connection' that Jim had with Blair. In spite of the head start, Jim knew he had the advantage. He knew Blair's habits, the way he thought, the way Blair would consider his pursuer's strengths, weaknesses and psychology and use them to his own advantage.
In the end, he didn't even need all of that. He just followed the sound of Blair's cough.
For such a health nut, the kid caught a lot of colds, and he was even more susceptible since the nightmare at the fountain. Jim expected this with his little trek through the woods and wasn't at all surprised when he recognized Blair's deep rasping cough. With every cough, he hurt with Blair but it meant that he was alive and nearby. He just prayed he would find the young man before his adversary did.
The 'trail' eventually led him to a well-concealed cave. He surely would have missed it if he hadn't been able to hear Blair. Very clever, Chief.
Treading soundlessly, he saw Blair drinking from a puddle at the mouth of the cave. He clenched his teeth and fists in anger at the sight of his partner. His face was covered with bruises and cuts and he was holding his middle protectively. Jim hated to sneak up on Blair, but the kidnapper looked just like him. There was no way Blair could know which of them it was. And he had to keep Blair quiet long enough to prove it was really him. When Jim had grabbed him, he was surprised that Blair still had so much fight left in him. Jim hadn't known how he would prove it was really him. Leave it to Blair to give him the answer.
"Chief. Hey, Blair. Wake up." Someone was shaking him.
"Don' feel good, Mom. C'n I stay home t'day?"
"Sorry, Blair sweetie," Jim said in his best Naomi voice. "No hooky today."
"Wha'..." Blair's eyes cracked open and shifted to try to see behind him. "Jim? What's going on, Man?"
"I thought we should move further into the cave where it's drier."
"Dry sounds good."
"Can you get up?"
"With a little help. Mostly I'm just stiff."
With Jim's support, Blair stood up. Without Jim's body heat, he immediately began to shiver. Jim pulled off his black leather coat and wrapped it around Blair.
"Jim, you don't..."
"Don't even start, Sandburg."
"Yeah, yeah." ~Cough~
His hand on Blair's elbow, Jim led them deeper into the cave.
"This is a stupid question, Jim, but are you sure you can see?"
"Like a bat."
"Bats are blind, Jim."
"Whatever. Like a cat, then."
"Are you sure there are no animals in here?" ~Cough~
"None that I can see. Or hear."
"Good enough for me."
They finally got far enough back to satisfy Jim. Blair sat down where he was, not daring to take a step in the thick darkness without the Sentinel leading him. He felt Jim put a small, metal cylinder in his hand.
"Flashlight, Chief. Keep it pointed down and don't move it around much."
"Thanks, Jim." Blair switched it on, relieved for the light.
Jim handed Blair some Tylenol tablets and a bottle of water. "How are you feeling?"
"I've been better." ~Cough~
"When was the last time you ate?"
"Uh... lunch... the day I was abducted. What the heck day is it? Man, I feel like I've been running forever."
"It's been about 36 hours or so, Chief. You must be pretty hungry."
"Not really, but I'm kinda shaky. I'm sure something to eat would help." ~Cough~
"I don't have much, buddy. I had to grab something quick and light."
~Cough~ "How'd you know to bring supplies, Jim?"
"Dunno. I've learned to expect the unexpected and always be prepared." Jim pulled a thermos out of the bag and poured something into a metal cup. Blair breathed in the pungent scent of tea. Jim handed it to Blair along with a bag of crackers. Sitting down beside him, he continued. "Who is this guy, Chief? What happened?"
"I was waiting for you to come home the other night. When he came in, I thought it was you, Jim. I needed to tell you that my computer had been... ~cough~ hacked into. My Sentinel notes -- all my Sentinel stuff on you -- had been broken into -- but I think it was him -- or the people he works for. Anyway, man, Jim, it was weird. He doesn't just look like you. His voice is just like yours. Every line in his face... ~cough~ just like yours. You're gonna think this is nuts, but he even... smells like you."
Blair could see by the firelight that Jim was smiling. "No, Chief. It's not nuts at all." Blair didn't know what the smile was all about, but it made him feel good.
"So what tipped you off that it wasn't me?" Jim asked.
"Well, aside from the fact that he drugged me, abducted me, kept pounding on me, called me names and only called me 'Sandburg', the real clincher was his ear." ~Cough~
"His ear?"
Blair grinned. "Yeah, your pierced ear. It never closed. They didn't know about it because you don't wear the earring anymore."
"And only someone very close to me would notice it."
"Jim, that's not all! He's a Sentinel!" ~Cough~
Ellison's face became angry and troubled. "A Sentinel. That explains that feeling I had."
"Feeling?"
"I don't know. A deep rooted... itch. I had it when... Alex was around."
"Oh, her."
"So, what's going on, Chief?"
"He's a clone." ~Cough~
"I was afraid you were going to say something like that."
"I had a hard time seriously considering it, Jim, but it's the only thing that makes sense. It was you, but it... ~cough~ wasn't. Physically, he is you. I'll bet the fingerprints at the hotel will be a match for yours. It was like you'd had a brain transplant. That's why he's a Sentinel. Your senses are genetic. ~Cough~ You were born with them. I don't know why he was created. Maybe something to do with your military background. Simply a random experiment. I mean, you are an impressive specimen and don't take that the wrong way. I've kept my research pretty quiet since I met you, but I have published some articles a few years back, like the one Brackett got hold of. So, maybe they figured out you were a Sentinel and wanted to clone you for that specific reason. So I'm guessing they were the ones who stole my information." ~Cough~
Jim, noticing Blair had finished the tea and crackers, decided it was a good time to treat Blair's injuries. They talked while he worked. "This will probably need stitches." He examined the cut under Blair's eye. "So why'd he go after you, Chief?"
Blair shrugged. "Dunno. I'd think for information on Sentinels, or on you specifically, but my notes are pretty thorough. He sure seemed to hate my guts, though." ~Cough~
"So I see," Jim said grimly, pulling off Blair shirts as gently as possible to examine his bruised back and ribs. Blair tried not to flinch as Jim ran his fingers lightly over his ribs.
"Guess I should have just kept my mouth shut, but it was driving me crazy trying to figure out why you were going off the deep end and I just had to find some answers. Ow." ~Cough~ "Ow."
Jim paused in his ministrations. "You may have been able to stop the beatings by not talking, Blair, but I doubt it. This is pretty vicious." He touched the boot print-shaped bruise on Blair's back. "What did you say to make the guy so mad at you?"
"I asked him to take the duct tape off my wrists." ~Cough~
"It must have been the way you said it."
Jim helped Blair put his shirts back on then took Blair's swollen wrist in his hand. "Nothing broken here. Just a bad sprain. How much did you really believe it was me?"
Blair shook his head in denial. "Even though he looked, sounded and smelled like you... ~cough~... I really couldn't believe it. You and I have had a lot of disagreements and ~cough~... arguments, but you rarely touched me in anger--"
"Pushed you up against the wall a couple of times."
"But you never hurt me. Do you realize that? In all the times you were...~cough~ angry, distraught and out of control, you never hurt me. And he drugged me." Blair was angry. "That bugged me most of all. I know you would never do that to me."
Jim finished wrapping Blair's wrist with an ace bandage. "Feel better?"
~Cough~ "No, but thanks anyway. That backpack is like Mary Poppins' carpet bag. You're amazing, man. Got any other cool stuff in there?" ~Cough~
Jim pulled out a bottle of prescription cough medicine left over from Blair's last bout of fountain-induced bronchitis.
Blair made a face. "Works great, but it's still gross." ~Cough~ He held out his hand for the dosage cup Jim offered. "I'm desperate. This is agony with the ribs." ~Cough~ He swallowed his medicine and handed the empty cup back. "What're we gonna do now, Jim? He's still out there." ~Cough~
"Yeah, I know. I can feel him."
"That must be way weird."
"It is." Ellison poured more tea into Blair's cup. "We've got to get out of here. My cell phone is dead and we can't count on the other search parties to find us before he does. So, first we're going to have another cup of tea. Then we'll sleep again. Hopefully by then you'll feel more like traveling and we can head toward civilization."
"How did you escape from this guy anyway, Chief?"
"He was going to drug me again, so I knocked him out with a beer bottle."
Jim chuckled. "A beer bottle. You're going to ruin your reputation as a pacifist."
Blair set his half finished tea on the ground.
"Finish your tea, Sandburg."
"'M tired, Jim. Cough medicine puts me to sleep."
"Finish it fast, buddy. It'll warm you up."
Obediently, Blair raised the metal cup and drained the tea. Jim helped him peel his jacket off then lie down on his side. Then he put out the fire and covered it with dirt. The sudden blackness made Blair's heart quicken. Jim patted his shoulder as he laid down.
"You alright, buddy?"
"Yeah. This pitch black is just kind of unnerving."
Jim laid down behind Blair, draping his arm over him and pulled him closer to his chest and draping his jacket over them both. With their shared body heat trapped under the coat, they were reasonably warm. The combined effect of the pain-killing Tylenol and cough medicine were working on Blair's body and mind.
"How are you feeling now, Chief?"
"Starting to feel pretty good, Jim. I know you're gonna say that I don't have to say it, man, but thanks for coming after me."
"You're right. You don't have to say it, but you're welcome."
Blair lay listening. He could hear water dripping from inside the cave, but they were too deep in for him to hear anything outside.
"Jim. Can you hear if it's still raining?"
"Yes it is, but the storm is over."
"What else can you hear outside?" Ever the scientist.
"Wind. Birds. Insects. Stuff like that."
"Can you hear him out there?"
"Not at this level of hearing, so he's not anywhere near."
"If you concentrated hard enough, do you think you could locate him in the forest?"
"Yes. But I'd rather wait until you're not so tired. Less risk of zoning."
"Jim?"
"Hm?"
"What does it feel like when another Sentinel is in your territory?"
"Well, there's this deep itch all up my spine. It doesn't hurt, but it won't go away. And you know how your skin is tender all over your body when you have a low-grade fever? You may feel okay otherwise, but your skin just 'aches' everywhere? It's a lot like that."
"Geez, no wonder you were such a crank when Alex blew into town. That's gotta make you nuts."
"It does."
"Why's it different this time?"
"Maybe because I know what's going on. Or because the other Sentinel is a male instead of a female. Or because I know you're in danger instead of having stupid dreams and visions to try to interpret."
"The dreams and visions are important, Jim."
"If you say so, Chief. But most of the time the crisis has happened before I figure them out. I'm a lot better at dealing with cut and dried reality than vague symbolism."
"I suppose you're right. Except for where women are concerned."
Blair felt Jim turn over to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean, Sandburg?"
Blair rolled to his back and faced his partner. "Do you think your involvement with Laura and Veronica are realistic?"
"Me? What about Iris and Maya?"
"I'll admit Iris was a case of bad character judgement, but none of the stuff with Maya was really her fault."
"She made her choices."
"Well, so did Laura. And Veronica."
"Well... I guess we both have questionable judgement in women." Jim was thinking about Alex Barnes and of Lyla. He looked at Blair and knew he was thinking the same thing. "We're a lot better at picking best friends."
Blair laughed. "Don't get all sappy on me, Ellison."
"Guess you just bring out the sap in me, Chief."
They settled back down to their original positions. Blair finally gave in to the pull of sleep, secure in the knowledge that his Sentinel was on guard.
Jim could feel the soft rhythm of Blair's heartbeat against his back. It was strong and steady. He let its comforting presence lull him to sleep.
"No! No, Blair! Get him out!"
Blair was jerked from his sleep by Jim's shout. They knew the sound of each other's nightmares well. He sat up quickly, groping in the dark for his friend.
"Sandburg! No!"
"Jim! Jim, wake up!" He found Jim's shoulder and shook him roughly. "Wake up, man!"
Jim sat up suddenly, finally awake. "Blair! Blair, thank God you're alright."
"Yeah, I'm alright, buddy. It was just a dream." He put his hand back on Jim's shoulder. The skin beneath his hand was clammy with sweat. Ignoring his stiff and aching body, Blair knelt behind the older man and started to knead the muscles in Jim's neck and shoulders with strong but gentle fingers. The muscles were tight and the Sentinel was trembling.
"Take it easy, Jim," he said softly. "You wanna talk about it?"
"Blair, do you know what I'm most afraid of?"
"Losing the remote control to the TV?"
Jim ignored his joke. "It's losing you. I'm afraid of not getting there in time to save you. We've had so many close calls. Lash, Iris, Chapel, the Golden, Quinn. Only once was I too late to save you. If it hadn't been for Incacha--" His voice cracked and he couldn't continue.
Blair stopped his massage and wrapped his arms around Jim's shoulders. He rested his chin on the back of Jim's neck. "You were dreaming about the fountain."
Jim gripped the arms that dangled around him and nodded. "It's the worst moment of my life, Chief. Not just that you died, but that it was my fault."
"Jim--"
"C'mon, Sandburg. Allow me some guilt here. We both know Barnes was able to get to you because I threw you out of the loft. I left you alone."
"It's over, Jim. We're past that," he said quietly.
"It still hurts, though. Doesn't it, Blair?"
Sandburg was silent.
"Blair?"
Blair nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.
Jim could hear the tremor in his voice. He reached up and cupped the back of Blair's head with one hand. "I'm sorry, Chief. I'm so sorry it ever happened. I was such a fool and I wish it had never happened. If I'd lost you, I would have lost my mind."
Blair tightened his grip around Jim and buried his face in the side of Jim's neck. "...Jim..." he whispered.
Jim could feel warm tears on his skin. The two friends sat quietly, each giving and receiving comfort. After a moment, Jim reluctantly spoke. "C'mon, Chief. We gotta get moving."
In that eerie detached manner of his, Jim was suddenly all business. Helpless in the utter darkness, Blair sat still and listened to the older man gather their supplies together.
"We need to hurry, Chief. I'm afraid he may have heard me yelling. Here, hold out your hands."
Blair held his hands toward Jim's voice and felt Jim put a bottle in one hand and two tablets in the other.
"Tylenol," Jim explained.
"Thanks." He took the pills then held the bottle out to Jim.
"Put the jacket on and keep the bottle in the pocket. You'll need it and it'll save us time if I don't have to stop to get it out of my pack."
"Jim, I wish you'd take the jacket back."
"I know you do, Chief, but I won't and we'll just waste time and energy discussing it."
Blair put the jacket on and slid the water bottle in the roomy picket.
"Ready to go, Chief?" Jim reached out and grasped Blair's hand to pull him to his feet.
Blair again let Jim lead him through the inky darkness of the cave. He gradually saw the outside light from the entrance. They paused near the edge. Blair rested his hand on Jim's back and waited while the Sentinel scanned the wet forest. Still on alert, Jim motioned for Blair to follow him.
Silently, they left the area. Blair guessed that Jim heard or felt the other Sentinel. He knew Jim would break the silence when he felt it was safe.
Blair knew he was still in danger, but he also knew that Jim would stop at nothing to keep him safe. They were partners and friends but for some reason, Jim's sense of responsibility toward Blair went beyond all the normal boundaries. Jim took Blair's well being personally. That was okay with Blair. It felt pretty good. In fact, when he took the time to think about how much Jim took it upon himself to watch out for his Guide and to be responsible for him, it gave Blair all kinds of warm fuzzies. In return, Blair stuck with the seemingly emotionless man through all the wild cop stuff and all the weird Sentinel stuff.
Jim had given Blair a handful of individual cough drops earlier, which Blair sucked on constantly to keep his cough at bay. They had decided against the cough syrup. Blair needed to be clear headed.
After about an hour, they stopped for a short rest. They spoke in low tones, Blair taking the that fact the other Sentinel was still too close for them to relax. They ate a few cookies because they made less noise than crackers. They talked sparingly while Jim checked Blair's injuries.
"How are the ribs, Chief?"
Blair's voice was strained. "Sore."
Jim laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You let me know if it gets hard to breathe; you hear?" Blair nodded. "I mean it, Sandburg. It's impractical to be a hero with injured ribs."
"'kay," Blair answered.
Jim paused to listen to the forest sounds around them. Blair recognized the look of deep concentration on his friend's face. He was silent as he waited. Finally, Jim's attention returned to Blair. Blair lifted his eyebrows in inquiry. Jim nodded and held his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture. Then he gripped Blair's arm and helped him to his feet. He tilted his head in a 'follow me' signal and they continued on in hurried silence.
Traveling was hard and slow. The storms had blown a lot of branches and stuff down, making walking difficult. Blair's ribs made breathing painful and now his stomach hurt and the cough drops no longer stilled his coughing.
Jim finally relented and gave Blair a dose of cough medicine. If they had to, they'd stop and hide. Jim almost preferred a face-to-face confrontation. All this sneaking around made him irritable.
Jim began to look for a hiding place. A showdown was inevitable. The other Sentinel was tracking them. If Blair had been in good shape, they could have stayed ahead of him. The kid was doing his best. He hadn't complained, but Jim could tell he was about to collapse. He could hear it in his breathing and his faltering steps. Could see it in his face. In spite of his earlier promise to tell Jim if he had trouble, Blair had been struggling to breathe for some time now.
A low, well-hidden cave like the one he'd found Blair in would be preferable, but he had to settle for one they found high up. At least they'd have a good view and should be well warned of the arrival of their pursuer.
And he would pursue them. Jim was sure of it. Whatever instinct bound him and Sandburg drew the other to the anthropologist also. Well, he'd have to go through Ellison first. And they'd be waiting for him.
The cave was a good twelve feet up a cliff. There were a lot of branches and tree roots that they used to pull themselves up, but Jim still had to pull Blair up most of the way. By the time they reached their destination, Blair was covered in sweat and was fighting back tears of pain.
When they got to the mouth of the cave, Blair dropped to his knee, clutching his stomach. "Jim... gotta rest... a minute... can't... breathe..." he gasped.
Jim squatted beside him and laid his hand on Blair's shoulder. His calm tone belied his concern at the fever he felt through the layers of fabric covering Blair. Jim noticed the sweat of exertion evaporated almost instantly on the hot skin. "It's okay, Chief. Rest a bit. He's not too close, yet. You get your breath back. I'll check the place out." Blair just nodded as Jim got up and went inside the cave.
Jim had to wake Blair when he came back a few minutes later. He'd fallen asleep leaning against the side of the cave. Jim shook his arm gently. "Chief. Hey buddy. Wake up."
Blair started awake. "Wha-- Jim? W'sup? He winced from the pain of breathing.
"It's okay, Blair. Let's move inside." Carefully, he grasped Blair's arms and pulled him to his feet.
~Gasp~ ~Cough~ "Ow... ow." Suddenly, Blair's legs gave out and he grabbed onto Jim to keep from falling. Jim swept Blair up into his arms and carried his half conscious partner hurriedly into the cave.
Reaching the spot he'd picked out, Jim eased Blair down on the ground.
"...Jim."
"Take it easy, Blair."
"Sorry, man."
"Knock it off, Sandburg. A lot of cops I know couldn't have made that romp through the woods in your condition. I should call you the Incredible Hulk."
"I am feeling slightly green right now."
"Wish I could get you to a hospital. Lemme see those ribs."
Blair moved his arms away and gripped Jim's upper arm with one hand. Jim eased Blair's shirts up and ran his fingers lightly over his ribs and stomach. Jim frowned at Blair's bruised and swollen abdomen His fingers lightly probed to the right underneath the ribcage.
"Jim, what's wrong?" Blair asked weakly.
Instead of answering, Jim instructed, "Take a deep breath for me, Chief and hold it."
Confused, Blair nonetheless obeyed. He took a slow deep breath and held it. Jim again examined the area. "Okay, buddy. Let it out now." Silently Blair complied, but the hand on Jim's arm suddenly clenched with strength that surprised the Sentinel. He looked down at Blair and saw his clenched jaw his tightly clenched jaw and the unshed tears in his eyes.
"Sorry, Chief," he said softly.
Blair realized he was digging his fingertips into Jim's arm and quickly let go. "Sorry," he whispered.
Jim grinned. "It's okay, Hulk."
"That's funny... wish I... could laugh," Blair gasped.
"Well, don't. In fact, you need to be as still as possible. I'm afraid you may have ruptured your spleen. That's probably the cause of your fever."
"I wouldn't think I'd be able to r... run with a ruptured s... spleen."
"A damaged spleen wouldn't necessarily tear right away."
Jim got still all of a sudden, his face tense with a distracted expression on it.
"He's close... isn't he?"
"Couple of miles."
Blair was silent. Jim looked down at him. "Can it, Chief. You didn't do this."
"Can't Jim... human... nature."
"How about some Tylenol? You'd have to sit up to take it."
"I might... breathe... easier sitting up."
"Okay then, Chief. Take a slow, deep breath then let it out and hold it."
Blair did as Jim instructed then Jim quickly and smoothly moved him into an upright position. Jim knelt beside Blair with his arms wrapped around his shoulders waiting for Blair's breathing to subside. "It's okay, Blair. It's okay. Just let me know when you're ready for me to let go."
Blair rested weakly against his protector, trying to catch his breath. He focused all his concentration on his hands that again gripped Jim's arm. In spite of his efforts, tears of pain trickled down his bruised cheeks. "...such... wimp."
"Cut it out, Sandburg. You're the Hulk"
"Hulk... doesn't cry." ~Cough~
"Yes he does. I saw him do it once."
"You never cry."
"Yes I do. I hide it."
"Jim..."
"What?"
"You're my hero." ~Cough~
"You're a real card, Junior."
"You said... I was the... Hulk."
"I take it you're feeling better."
"Hundred percent."
Jim helped him lean against the cave wall, then turned to his back pack. He pulled out a water bottle and the Tylenol. Shaking out two tablets, he handed them to Blair who swallowed them with some difficulty. Jim noticed and asked, "Any new problems I should know about?"
Blair leaned his head back against the wall. "...uh, my throat hurts?"
Jim gently patted his cheek as he took the bottle from his hands. He put the bottle back in the pack and pulled out a gun. He held it out to Blair. The young man looked at it then at Jim. The Sentinel saw depths of sorrow and guilt in the blue eyes. He waited patiently. He wasn't demanding that Blair take it. It would be the Anthropologist's choice. Blair understood the offer Jim was making. Finally, Blair took the gun.
Blair knew how to use the gun. Jim prayed he wouldn't have to. Ellison would do his best to make sure he wouldn't. Not that the kid was a coward. He never ran from a fight. Jim even admired the way Blair handled guys twice his size. He just had a thing about guns. That was okay with Ellison but he never doubted for an instant that Blair would use it if he needed to.
Jim crouched down and rested his hand on Blair's shoulder. "Rest, Chief. I'll stand guard and let you know when it's time."
Blair nodded. "Careful, man."
Jim squeezed his shoulder gently and got up and walked to the entrance. Concealing himself just inside the mouth of the cave, he pulled his gun out of the holster attached to the back of his waistband. His senses on full alert, he scanned the forest below him, occasionally looking back to check on Sandburg.
Ellison began to wonder if it had been a good idea to stop. He felt like a cornered animal. He wished they could have kept moving, but they'd had no choice. Blair was at the end of his endurance. Even if they defeated the other Sentinel, Blair needed treatment as soon as possible. Without treatment, he'd go deep into shock and die. Jim would have to carry him out. He had never felt so helpless.
The other one was near. Jim could feel him. Sandburg was right. It was weird. He hated it. His senses were so on edge. Just like with Alex. This guy may be a clone of himself, but as far as his instincts were concerned, he was just another Sentinel invading his territory. Threatening his tribe. Specifically, his Guide.
He wondered, as he often did, about this connection, this 'bond', as Sandburg called it, that existed between him and Blair. He had come to believe that it had always existed. He knew that it had surely been there when they'd first met. The person he'd been at the time would never have let such an 'odd' person so easily into his life. 'New partner', indeed.
"Jim," Blair whispered, pulling him from his thoughts. "You're not zoning are you?"
Jim looked over his shoulder at him. "Only on memories, Chief. How you feeling?"
"Kind of thirsty."
That was another symptom of the ruptured spleen. Or he could just be thirsty. "Can you reach the bag without moving too much? There's still some water in there."
Straining just a little, Blair stretched out his arm and snagged the backpack. He reached in, pulled the bottle out and took a long drink. Watching him, Jim pushed his worry down. One thing at a time, please.
Jim returned his attention to the forest, sweeping it with his senses. Then Jim saw something about fifty yards away. Someone tall with dark hair.
Suddenly a shot rang out and a bullet hit the wall near Jim's head and Jim dropped to his knees.
"Jim!"
"I'm alright, Sandburg! Stay put!
"Where is he?"
"About fifty yards away!" Jim lifted himself to pull off a shot at their attacker. Suddenly Blair was at his side.
"Sandburg, I told you to stay put! Your injuries..."
"Jim if he kills you and gets a hold of me, my spleen... is the least of my... worries."
"Just stay down."
"No problem."
Jim raised up slightly. He saw no movement below. "Damn," he muttered. "Where is he?" He glanced over at Blair lying next to him. He had the gun ready, carefully aimed toward the woods.
"Are you ready for this?"
"No, but time and psychopaths wait for no man." ~Cough~
Blair heard the loud crack of a nearby shot just as Jim was slammed back against the cave wall.
"Jim! Jim, no!" Blair crawled quickly to Jim's side. The bullet had caught him high in his chest.
"Sandburg..." Jim whispered painfully.
Blair started to unbutton Jim's shirt to check the injury.
"Chief... he's coming..."
"Too late."
Blair froze as he heard the sound of a gun cocking and the voice that was and yet not his Sentinel behind hm. He turned his head to look into pale blue eyes that were so much like Jim's except for the madness shining in them.
What accounted for the madness? A side effect of the cloning process? Was it due to his accelerated growth? Or was it something natural? The twin was a Sentinel without a Guide. He had escaped his creators and, apparently headed straight for Sandburg. But it had been too late. The insanity was too far gone. The Sentinel's natural protective instincts toward the tribe, specifically the Guide, were destroyed. First in the laboratory, trying to create an organic war machine. Then by depriving him of a Guide. But he didn't compensate for what was missing. He hunted down the Guide and tried to lay claim to him. Tried to possess him. And he meant to kill Jim to do it.
"No," he said aloud and he pulled Jim's head into his lap, protectively crossing his left arm over the Sentinel's chest.
Jim glared up at the twin who loomed over them, his gun pointed at Ellison's chest. The twin cocked an eyebrow at Sandburg. "You can't stop me."
"Maybe not. But if you kill him, I won't go with you."
"Sandburg--"
"Shut up, Jim," Blair said quietly.
"I'll force you. You can't fight me."
"Oh, I'll fight you, all right. And I'll either kill you or force you to kill me."
The twin's mouth twisted up in a mocking smile. "You're a Guide. You can't kill me."
"You're an idiot," Jim growled. "You don't know anything about the bond between Sentinel and Guide. You have no idea of the power he holds over me. Or you. He knows more about us than even we do. Or ever will."
"And I will use it against you, if you kill Jim."
"Okay," the twin quipped, dropping the hand holding the gun to his side. "You come with me and I'll leave him alone."
Yeah, right. Blair thought. He looked in Jim's eyes, understanding passing between them, then carefully started to lower Jim's head and shoulders to the ground. He gasped and grimaced in pain and crouched low to the ground, moaning.
Surprised, the twin stepped forward to help him then was falling backward, a shower of blood spraying out of his chest. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Turning his back on the dead man, Blair turned back to his Sentinel.
Jim grunted as he pushed himself up and leaned back to rest against the wall. He then pulled his stunned partner to him and held him to his chest. Careful to avoid the bullet wound, Blair burrowed into Jim's arms.
Blair was getting colder and his breathing, while settling back down, was shaky and irregular. He's going into shock. "Blair. Chief, talk to me."
"Din' wan' to, J'm. Do it 'gain, tho. Keep you safe, my S'nt'l." He clumsily patted Jim's chest with his trembling fingers.
"Blair, please stay with me. The rescue party is coming. They must have heard the gun shots. Blair?" He shrugged his arms, jostling the young man and making him moan. "Blair, don't go so sleep. Stay with me, buddy. Come on. You can't rest yet. Very soon, but not now."
"Ow, man. Giv' it a res' 'lredy. 'M up." Blair blinked sleepy, confused eyes at him.
"That's it, kid. They're coming, you hear? The good guys are coming."
"Th' good guys? Tha's nice."
Jim pulled him closer, trying to get him warmer. He was relieved to hear the parties much closer now. He lifted his gun up and prepared to shoot out into the sky. "Gonna make a little noise here, Chief."
Blair jumped when Jim pulled the trigger. "Jim?" he whimpered.
"'S okay, buddy. That's just so the good guys can find us."
"'Kay. Hey, Jim?"
"What?"
"Tho't we were th' good guys."
"You better believe it, Chief."
The End