While completing Duty, Honor, Country, the idea for this story popped up in my head and wouldn't go away. Cindy Combs told me that she calls these 'plot bunnies' and what started going through my head as I was trying to complete Duty was the Elmer Fudd phrase, "Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit."
The normal, standard, repetitive disclaimers go here. No matter how much I want them, the guys belong to Pet Fly, Bilson and DeMeo, and whoever else has the legal rights. This and all my other stories are written for my pleasure and the enjoyment of others to read.
MEGA thanks goes to my friend, Cindy Combs, for taking the time away from her work to beta the story for me. She found and helped me repair the glaring problems that I always seem to miss and the minor grammatical errors that I don't think I'll ever stop making.
Rated PG for some words and a little violence. Archiving is allowed and encouraged.
Shallan
Denver, Colorado
A volley of gunfire split the air, making several of the mourners standing in the Fort Logan National Cemetery jump. While the noisy event had been expected, the ferocity of the sound cut sharply through the solemn occasion. After the third volley had been fired, a lone trumpeter stepped forward. The mournful notes of Taps soon echoed throughout the area. It was the appropriate closing for a military funeral.
Jim Ellison, former Army Ranger, now a detective in the Cascade, Washington Police Department and Sentinel of that city, stood ramrod straight during the proceedings. No emotion showed on his face, his eyes staring beyond the people on the other side of the coffin. He stood as the lone civilian, clothed in black, amongst the sea of green and blue clad military members. They were all there to pay their respect and say a final farewell to Major James Alexander McLin, fellow soldier and friend.
After the trumpeter finished, the military pallbearers moved forward and began the solemn ceremony of removing the U.S. Flag from the casket. To close the service, it would be presented to a member of the family by the officer in charge. Ellison easily listened with his enhanced hearing to the precision steps of the six Special Forces sergeants as the moved forward to the casket. The gloved hands were whisper quiet, grasping the flag at the appropriate areas and lifting it from the coffin. The side-step movements sounded in almost perfect unison to the Sentinel as the soldiers shifted to the front and began the process of folding the flag into the traditional, tri-corn shape.
Jim watched the movements, knowing them by heart from the time he had been in charge of a similar ceremony. It had been at the burial of his men from the Peru mission. As the commanding officer and remaining survivor of the team, it had been his right to preside over the burials. It had not been easy then and the ceremony here brought back, in vivid detail, feelings he had tried to bury: pain, regret and sorrow.
The flag folded tightly, the senior enlisted man turned sharply and took the necessary steps to the officer standing back from the group. First presenting a salute in slow motion, the officer accepted the flag, folded it up to lie against his chest and waited until the sergeant gave him a return salute with the same slow movement. Then the officer executed a left facing movement and paced slow, measured steps towards a man sitting in a wheelchair. Leaning forward, the officer respectfully presented the flag. Ellison heard him say the same words he had said seven times before: "Thank you from a grateful nation." Hearing them again, he remembered how he had felt presenting each flag to a family member. The man in the wheelchair clutched the flag tightly to his chest, tears fell unashamedly down his face.
The ceremony finally over, the civilians and military members began to disburse. Becoming aware of his surroundings, Jim realized that he was standing alone near the coffin. Where is he? Looking around the area he found the object of his concern.
Blair Sandburg, anthropology student, police observer and Shaman to his Sentinel, stood by himself off at the edge of the mourners. He was dressed conservatively, his long, curly hair pulled back off his face, watching the ritual being performed. Thoughts of a side study concerning the cultural ceremonies of the military society had flitted through his mind as he maintained a respectful distance from the proceedings.
Having known McLin for only a short time, he had had misgivings about even going to the funeral, much less standing beside his partner up near the casket. Jim would not understand the reasons for his actions at this time, but Blair had felt his partner's need for solitude even if he hadn't voiced it aloud. If the subject were ever brought up, which he doubted it would, then they would discuss it. Standing with his hands folded in front of him, Blair waited until Jim had walked up. Then he stepped to the side and walked along side the taller man towards their rental car.
The two men had arrived in Denver two weeks earlier, coming as soon as they had received McLin's phone call asking them to spend time with him during his last days. As he had promised at the hospital in Cascade, McLin checked himself into the military hospital at Fort Carson in Colorado Springs the day after he returned to Colorado. The military doctors confirmed what his civilian doctor had found and started a radical treatment against the disease that was attacking the man's body. Unfortunately, nothing could be done to stop the destruction. Even if McLin had started the treatment when he had first been diagnosed, the disease was terminal. He was told that his remaining time could be anything from two weeks to two months. The doctors released him, at his request, to spend his remaining days where he wanted: in his own home in Conifer, Colorado.
When Jim and Blair had arrived at Denver International Airport, they were met by the man in the wheelchair. It turned out that he was McLin's brother, Joseph. A former sergeant in the Air Force, Joe McLin had been condemned to his metal seat during his second tour in Vietnam in 1970 after taking shrapnel during a mortar attack. While recuperating in a VA hospital, he had tried to convince his younger brother that the military was not the best path to take in his life. Jimmy McLin thought different but chose the Army as his vocation in life.
The two McLin's had never been close to each other because of that choice, only seeing each other at the funeral of their mother three years ago and then again at their father's 6 months later. Until the younger brother returned from a recent trip to Cascade, WA, nearly two months ago, any conversations had been rare. Since the return, they had spent almost every day together. Mac had asked his brother to pick up the visitors from Cascade.
Ellison had been shocked the first time he saw his former Army buddy upon arrival. The robust, stalwart man that had left Cascade had disappeared, leaving a frail version in its place. Surprisingly, McLin wasn't in the type of pain he had expected or was warned would occur with the disease. Maybe it was because of all the military training he had gone through in his earlier years had taught him to ignore pain. But then, maybe it was just a blessing that didn't need to be explored.
To Sandburg, the change in the military man hadn't been that much of a surprise. Because of the abilities he was developing, he had known about the illness McLin had carried long before his partner. Blair had seen a dark shadow in Mac's eyes the first time they had literally bumped into each other at the precinct. During the week the military man had spent in Cascade, the shadow had grown to become a halo that only Blair could see and in which he felt was something deadly to the man. His suspicions had been confirmed after an automobile accident that both men had been involved.
In saving Sandburg's life during a terrorist takeover of a building at Rainier University, McLin had confessed his condition to Ellison, who had eventually convinced the man to not just give up. But it was to no avail. When the doctors at Fort Carson released him, McLin went back to his home and made the call to Ellison. The detective and his observer partner arrived three days later. The time spent with the ailing McLin helped completely seal the friendship the three had begun in Cascade.
Ten Days Earlier
"So J.J. there thinks that he can make this jeep accelerate over its max speed of 45 without monkeying around with the engine. They restrict the speed on those things for a reason, Ellison." McLin pointed an accusing finger at the abashed man sitting in the deck chair across from him.
"Jim 'by-the-book' Ellison deliberately violated regulations?" Blair asked incredulously and then laughed at the discomfort his partner was exhibiting.
Draining the last of the beer from the bottle he was holding, Jim stood up and started walking toward the door of the house. "Keep it up, Mac. I don't think you want me to start telling about how you ended up with that tattoo on your fanny. Anyone for a refill?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked into the house.
Ellison and Sandburg had arrived on a late flight from Washington three days earlier. While McLin hadn't been able to meet them at the airport, he was waiting for them by the time they finally arrived at his house with a good meal, cold beer and comfortable beds. The three men had spent the days since then together, McLin and Ellison talking about the 'old days' in the Army and Blair laughing and absorbing the information about his partner's past.
This night, after enjoying a dinner of steaks grilled by Ellison and a special salad created by Sandburg, the three were relaxing on the deck behind the house. McLin had noticed Sandburg holding his ribs a few times during the evening, mainly when he was laughing hard enough to cause tears.
"Your ribs bother you, Blair?" McLin lowered his voice, thinking he could ask a question that Ellison might not hear.
Blair just waved a disconcerting had at the man. "Don't try to whisper, Mac. Jim could hear you even if he was on the road in front of the house. Thanks for asking, but my ribs are healing just fine. They're still a little tender and busting a gut over the stories you two have been telling hasn't helped."
Looking towards his house for a moment, McLin shifted his chair closer to Blair's. "Tell me, kid. How did J.J. develop his, uh, super senses? I watched him in action back at the university and he was really something."
"He's actually had them all his life, Mac. After witnessing a murder using his senses when he was a boy, Jim's dad sort of forced him to suppress them." While Blair didn't hold against the elder Ellison what he had done to his son, he was bothered by how people treated others who were different then. Even in today's supposedly modern society, to be different was to be feared and keeping his partner's abilities a secret had pretty much become Blair's full-time job. "They stayed away until he was in Peru. The forced isolation with the Chopec caused them to reemerge until he was rescued."
"And he came back with them in full force?"
"No, actually he didn't. They disappeared again after he was rescued. Jim's never told me what happened after he was picked up to repress them again. Said it was classified."
"And it still is, Chief." Both men turned around to see Jim standing in the doorway holding three beer bottles. He walked over, handed a bottle to each of the other two and then sat back in his chair. "I'm required to maintain that classification for a few more years. When the requirement is lifted, I'll make sure that you get to record the whole thing but it'll probably be after you've graduated."
"I guess it's just some fluke that you're the one 'blessed' with these abilities. What did I say?" Mac thought his remark was harmless enough until he saw Ellison grimace and Sandburg's expression take on a haunted look. "Hey, I don't mean to bring up bad memories."
Blair looked over at his partner before he replied. "No, it's all right. Um I've got lots of data on people who have one or two heightened senses and only a couple have exhibited three. Jim was first person I ever found who had all five." He fell silent, focusing on his beer bottle, which allowed Jim to take over the explanation.
"There's another, but she, well, wasn't willing to work on developing her ability. Wanted the fast route and ended up going insane. So far, we haven't found any others." Ellison emphasized the word just enough to make Sandburg look back up at him to see the smile of trust and confidence directed at him.
Mac decided to change the subject. "So how is it that you are together? You have to admit that the difference between you two is pretty obvious. What's your field of study?" he asked Sandburg.
"Anthropology. About as far from police work as you could possibly get."
"I'll say. But, despite the fact that he knows how to help you J.J., what caused a hard-assed cop to accept a college student as a partner?"
"Sandburg kept me from being run over by a garbage truck," Jim answered. He smiled when Mac's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"After you jacked me up against the wall of my office and called me a, what was it again?" Blair directed the question to his friend, who had the good graces to blush. He mumbled something that the other two weren't able to hear.
"What's that J.J.? You're gonna have to speak up. We don't have those special ears," McLin wheedled his Army buddy.
"I said I called him a neo-hippie, witch doctor punk. I told you that at the station, Mac. But I only said that after he called me some type of caveman."
Blair leaned forward with a finger raised. "I said that you were a throw back to a pre- civilized man."
"I rest my case, your honor." Ellison smirked and took a swig from his bottle.
With a sigh, Blair sat back and took over the description of their meeting. "Jim had left my office in a huff and was walking across the road to his truck. Yes it was a huff, man. You were not a happy camper when you walked out," Blair quickly said to forestall the interruption he saw coming. "In my studies I've learned that there were times when a sentinel, that's what men like Jim are known as, will sometimes have an episode I call a zoneout if they concentrate too hard on any one of their senses. It's like going catatonic. Jim had one when he used his sight to watch a Frisbee being tossed. Unfortunately, it was right in the middle of the street and in the path of a garbage truck."
"He tackled me and the truck rolled over us. After that, I decided that he knew something about what was happening to me and we talked. Then he helped me use my senses to solve this case I was working and we became partners. The rest is history, or at least part of his thesis I'm sure." Jim gave his smaller friend a comfortable smile and lifted his bottle in a toast. Blair returned the gesture.
"So that's what Banks was talking about." McLin sat back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. At the confused expression on Sandburg's face, he explained. "When J.J. froze on the stairs, Banks was shaking him and said something like 'what does Blair say?' I thought J.J. was having a seizure or something."
"You had a zoneout? Why didn't you tell me, Jim?" The anger was evident in Blair's voice.
"Don't blame him, kid." McLin jumped in to head off any argument. "It was right after we heard the gun shots. He looked like he was listening for you and I think it caught him off guard. He seems to have this real protective instinct for you, from what I saw that day. I have no doubt that it runs both ways."
"Yeah, well that sort of developed over the years that we've worked together. Sandburg seems to have this incredible ability to get in trouble at the oddest times and there's usually a woman involved." Jim was the first to speak, trying to move the conversation in a different direction.
Catching on to what his friend was doing, Blair objected indignantly, "Come on, Jim. That's not fair. And I'm not the only one who seems to have problems with femme fatales. So don't even think of going there."
The detective and his observer looked at each other for several long seconds, each trying to convey to the other their feelings without using words that would be inadequate. They were friends, partners, Sentinel and Shaman. Nothing could be said about the later that many would understand and they didn't want to try to explain it to McLin.
McLin's laughter bubbled forth as he watched the interaction between the two men. He was really glad that he had asked them to come. No one should ever have to die alone.
Present Day
Reaching the rental car, both men climbed in and began the long drive back up to Conifer and the house owned by McLin. The major had made the provision before passing away that his friends could spend a week at the house after his death. Then the property and everything in it, excluding some personal bequeaths to the two and his brother, were to be sold at auction with all proceeds given to the brother.
During the drive, Blair loosened his tie and cast furtive glances at his partner. While he could see that Jim was aware of everything on the road, Blair could also see that the man's thoughts were miles, if not years, away. Jim had not completely shoved the younger man away from him emotionally, but Blair could tell that he needed to stay back and allow his friend the time to handle the death of McLin in his own way.
"I'm all right, Chief," Jim said, his eyes remaining on the road in front of him.
Blair just nodded and replied with a quiet, "I know."
Ellison sighed quietly at his partner's response. He knew what Sandburg was doing. Having learned how to do so after being injured during the recent university incident, Blair started keeping a tight rein on his own feelings and emotions. He kept them from flowing through the bond that connected him to his Sentinel, thinking that his partner didn't need to be bothered with his sorrows and insecurities.
In a way, Jim was appreciative of the concern the younger man was showing him. McLin had been a special person in his life and the man's death had been painful. But Blair's action also irritated him. They had the bond between them for a special reason. Jim was a Sentinel, a man with special, enhanced senses that he used with his police work. Blair was his Shaman, chosen by his former mentor Incacha to guide him with using and controlling his senses. But the young man was also there to watch his back, protect him from going into zoneouts. Together, they had become an unbelievably effective team in fighting crime in Cascade.
Blair had also become a close friend, a brother in every way except blood. By closing down the flow of information between the two, Jim could only feel that Blair was there beside him but not know how he was feeling or if he has hurt in any manner. It was as if there was just a presence in the seat beside him and that was all. The two were going to have to have a long conversation. First, to clear the air between them about what was going on now. Second, and more important, to stop Blair from doing what he was doing. Yes, Jim was hurting over the loss but the continuous feed of emotion from his mostly hyperactive partner was what kept him anchored to reality. Without it, he was feeling that loss more.
"Do you want to grab something before we get back, go out to eat or just stay in?" Jim asked, breaking the oppressive silence.
Blair shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever's easiest. I'm really not hungry. Just want to get out of this monkey suit and, uh--" He fidgeted with the buttons on his jacket.
"Yeah, I know." Ellison looked over at his friend and then back to the road. The traffic was fairly heavy for a Saturday and required his attention, but he knew it was necessary to talk about what they had just been through. "I Funerals have never been easy for me and military ones are the worse. One is too many to attend." The last words were spoken softly and with regret.
"Jim, you don't have to explain-- " Blair started but stopped when Jim held up a hand.
"It's all right, Chief. While you never get used to them, you learn to accept them and appreciate life all the more. As long as I've spent in the Army, I'm surprised to have only been to seven funerals before this one." Ellison reached over and gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze.
"Are they all like that?"
"Pretty much. However, there are some differences between the services. For Air Force pilots who die in combat or in a special status, they authorize a flyover by military aircraft in the missing man formation. An impressive sight if you're into that sort of stuff."
The final statement had the intended effect. Blair chuckled at the tone his partner used. James Ellison was Army through and through. There were times that he showed his bias towards those services that did not wear the green uniform.
The rest of the trip to McLin's house was more comfortable, with discussions and comments over the change in the terrain when they left the city limits and the road began to climb towards Conifer. Upon arrival at the secluded house, both men were ready for a quiet night.
Once inside, Blair walked toward the room he had been using since they had arrived and began changing into a more comfortable outfit of blue jeans, a sweatshirt and his hiking boots. He had learned quickly that, although it was mid-May by the calendar, the temperature dropped quickly once the sun went behind the mountains. He was wanting, no needing, to do some processing and there was a perfect area he had found a short distance from the house. The warm clothes would come in handy.
Jim also went to his room to change, stopping by the kitchen for a bottle of water first. Pausing to take a quick swallow, he listened towards Blair's room. He could hear the other changing, but noticed how quiet he was in doing so. Blair normally had a habit of talking to himself and his silence was another indication that the two of them needed to have a long talk. With a sigh, Jim walked into his room and started to undo his tie. He was unbuttoning his shirt when he heard Blair walk up and tap on the door.
"Jim? Hey, don't worry about fixing anything for me. I'm going to take a short walk along that trail behind the house and go relax in the clearing back there. I'll be back in a couple of hours and get something then, okay?"
"Sure, Chief. Just be careful. Mac had said that there've been sightings of a mountain lion hanging around the area. You're just big enough to be an appetizer." Ellison opened his door with an easy smile on his face.
"Ha, ha. The cat would probably end up with a bad case of indigestion," Blair joked back and then raised up the backpack he was carrying. "Don't worry, man. You'll probably be able to hear me if you listen in the right direction. I'm taking my walkman and I've got some water and granola bars in my pack here. See ya in a bit."
"You better believe I'll be listening," Jim muttered after hearing the back door shut. "Closer than you think, too." He moved back into his room to continue changing clothes.
Blair took a deep breath and then released it comfortably as he stood on the back deck of the house. This is such a beautiful place, Mac. I'm sorry you weren't able to enjoy it more, he thought as he looked up towards the mountains ranging to the west. The snow-capped peak of Mt. Evans towered over all the others. Pushing away the sadness that the thought brought, he slung his backpack over his shoulder, trotted down the steps and strode briskly through the backyard towards the tree that lined the edge of the property.
He was glad that he had put on the warm sweatshirt. Upon entering the trees, the temperature had become noticeably cooler and Blair picked up his pace to reach the place he was heading as quickly as possible. He fully intended to be back at the house before the sun dropped completely behind the mountains and the temperature with it.
After walking for over ten minutes along the well-trod path through the dense pine trees, Blair came to a large clearing that was still in full sunlight. Off to one side sat several stones of different sizes, one with a large enough flat surface area for an average-sized person to sit comfortably.
Climbing easily onto the stone and positioning himself into his standard, lotus position for meditating, Blair first pulled his wolf medallion out from his shirt and rested it comfortably on his chest. Giving it a soft pat, he then pulled his walkman out of his backpack. Checking the tape it carried, he positioned the headphones and switched the mechanism on. The steady rhythm of drums filled Blair's consciousness and helped him focus his troubled mind as he brought his breathing into a controlled pattern. Unknown to the silent figure on the rock, he was being watched by an equally silent figure a ways up the mountain.
A chilly breeze blowing across his face made Blair aware of his surroundings once more. The sun had moved far enough to the west to cause the shadow from the trees at the edge of the clearing to cover his rock. The drop in the temperature was definitely noticeable, indicating that it was time to get back to the house.
Unfolding his legs and gently stretching his muscles, Blair removed a bottle of water from his backpack and repacked his walkman. Taking a drink from the bottle, he looked around the area to find the owner of the eyes he thought he had felt watching him. Unconsciously, he tucked his medallion back into this shirt, hiding it from that unknown watcher.
Not seeing anyone in the vicinity, Blair quickly repacked the water bottle and climbed off the rock. Then, shouldering the bag, he started walking at a fast pace out of the clearing and back down the trail in the direction of the house. He hadn't traveled more than about a hundred feet when he heard the sound of someone coming down the trail behind him. Turning quickly, he saw his partner trotting in his direction.
Jogging up to the smaller man, Jim stopped and pulled loose the towel he had tucked around the neck of his sweatshirt to wipe his reddened and wet face. He was slightly flushed from running in the high altitude and he wasn't breathing as easily as he would have in Cascade.
"Hey, Chief. Want some company back to the house?" Ellison's expression was relaxed. His eyes were asking more than what he had said but he kept silent.
"Sure, man. You can make sure that I don't get lost, too. That lousy sense of direction I have " Blair said with a smile and was rewarded by his friend's laughter. "How far did you run? Actually, how can you run this high up? Just walking normal gets me out of breath."
"A couple of miles, at least. I was on the road when I saw a trail leading off up this way. So, I thought I would check it out to see where it went and here I am. We are higher up than Cascade but it's not that bad. Come on. It's getting chilly and I don't want to cool off too quickly." Placing a comfortable hand onto Blair's shoulder, the two started walking down the trail. "Did you see any sign of the mountain lion?"
"Nah, but I had the feeling I was being watched so it might have been around here somewhere. I didn't feel in danger, though. Did you see it? Any type of sign at all?"
He knew what Blair was asking. Knowing that his friend was in the area, Jim had kept his eyes, ears and nose on alert for anything dangerous. While he also had a feeling there was someone, something in the area, nothing had registered on his senses. With a shake of his head, Jim gave the shoulder under his hand a squeeze and then urged Blair into a faster walk.
No additional urging was needed. The chill of the approaching night was slicing through Blair's clothing. He wanted nothing more than to curl up by the large stone fireplace in the den of the loaned house with a hot cup of tea. The satellite dish attached to the porch would allow the two of them to watch a Jags game on one of the five different sports channels it carried. Jim had mentioned more than once about how the luxury item might be something to think about at their place.
Shifting his backpack to a more comfortable position, Blair picked up his pace to match the larger man at his side. The walk back was in silence, but amiable.
Ellison rolled over and looked at the clock beside the bed. It read 6:10 a.m. Wondering what had caused him to awaken, he opened his hearing to the house. It was quiet. There was no radio or television playing, no sounds from the kitchen or bathroom, and no sounds of Sandburg in his room. Sitting up suddenly, Jim realized that the latter was the problem. Blair was not in his room or anywhere in the house. Extending his hearing, he found the familiar heartbeat out on the front porch. Rolling out of the bed, Jim grabbed for his clothes.
Blair, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee to keep them warm in the chilly air, looked over his shoulder and gave Jim a welcoming smile as he walked out the door with a mug in his hand. "Mornin," he said quietly and motioned his head towards the field across the road.
Moving slowly to sit down beside his partner, Jim looked in the direction of the gesture and saw several elk grazing. Looking closer, he could see that one was a buck and the rest were does and their young.
"You know, I could almost get used to this," Blair spoke quietly, watching the casual way the animals moved and ate. "No classes, no putting up with cranky professors or indifferent students, no struggling to get acceptance for your theories." The last was said in a wistful tone.
"It would be nice for a while, but I know you too well, Chief. You'd go stir crazy after while and be attacking the different libraries around here to see if they held any hidden treasures." Jim chuckled when Blair ducked his head with a bashful smile.
The two sat in silence for a while, watching the animals go about their business when Blair spoke up quietly, "How are you doing, Jim?"
Ellison suppressed a heavy sigh. "I just wish there had been something, anything Mac could have done or gone through to get the cancer into remission. With all that science has accomplished today "
"Yeah, I know. I thought that I might even be able to help him with you know. But nothing happened."
Ellison looked at his partner sharply, irritation written all over his face. "Sandburg, I thought we agreed that you weren't going to try that again unless-- "
"I had to try, Jim," Blair interrupted quickly. "If you could've seen that that shadow hanging over him. It almost made me sick each time I saw it. I thought it wouldn't hurt if I just tried."
"When?"
"The day Joe took you into town to get the rental. Mac was taking a nap on the couch and I tried for about ten minutes. There wasn't even a hint of energy. He never knew what I was doing."
"God, Chief! What if it had worked and you 'forgot' to stop like the last time?" Ellison's voice raised in anger. How could he try that after he promised? Especially without someone to monitor him! He opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to voice his feelings and then finally brought his anger under control. "The last time you did it you were so weak that you passed out on me. It was pure luck you hadn't been on the stairs when that happened."
Blair placed his hand on the other's arm, his eyes pleading. "I know, Jim. But Mac had become my friend, too. I figured there was so little time that I needed to try something. I have this title of Shaman and in some cultures it means healer. So I tried to heal, or at least help." Dropping his hand from his friend's arm, he fiddled with his coffee cup. "Anyway, nothing happened when I touched him. Guess I can only do it for you."
"As it should be." Jim's reply was too soft for Blair to hear clearly, but he could almost feel the smugness emanating from the older man.
Not ready to calm down just yet, Ellison was silent. He stared out towards the grazing elk while thoughts of what could have happened to his friend if his power had work slammed through his brain. Knowing better than to try and make any further explanation, Blair also remained quiet and watched the serene scene in front of them.
After more than 15 minutes of silence passed, Jim reached over with a sigh and gave Blair's shoulder a squeeze. "While I don't agree with your methods, I can understand why, Chief. Thanks." Knowing that a reply was not needed, Blair nodded and took a sip of his cooling coffee.
"Think you might be interested in a little exercise?"
"If you want me to go jogging with you, I'll pass. I really don't have any desire to puke my guts out today."
"Would I ask you to do that?" Jim tried to look innocent with the reply but a smile sneaked onto his lips. "Actually, I found some camping equipment stored in the shed out back and was thinking we could do a couple of days of exploring before heading back. It has been a while since we communed with nature and the best part is that we wouldn't have to drive any great distance to reach an access area. It's all packed up and ready to go."
Blair could hear the hopeful tone in Jim's voice. It had been a while since they'd been able to go camping for relaxation. He couldn't count the time in Peru last year. Looking at his watch he asked, "Be ready by 8:00?" The smile that appeared on Jim's face gave Blair a flash of pleasure. He hadn't done very many things in the recent past to make his partner happy or his life any easier. He was still trying to make up for the Rainier incident a couple of months ago. Returning the smile, he accepted the hand that reached out to help him stand and the two walked back into the house.
The first day of hiking was mainly to get away from civilization. Maps that had been with the equipment indicated that Conifer was at the edge of the Pike National Forest. The decision was made to take the truck and head for Harris Park a few miles to the southeast, since the road ended there. The small town was closer to the edge of the forest and one of the hiking trails. They could also leave information as to their plans with the local sheriff's office.
Neither man spoke much when they started out, mainly concentrating on getting as many miles into the forest as possible before making the first camp. The sky was empty of any clouds and looked as though it would stay that way for the duration of the outing.
By the time they were able to find a good place to stop, it was almost dark. Ellison volunteered to find firewood, since he would have the advantage with his eyesight. That left Sandburg the job of setting up the tent, which turned out to be easier than he expected. McLin had all of the latest in camping equipment a person could hope for. It only took 10 minutes to set up the tent and another fifteen to get their equipment situated. He was sitting against a tree munching on some trail mix when his partner reappeared with an armload of wood.
"It's awfully dry around here, Chief. We'd better make sure we keep a close watch on the fire tonight. Any small stones lying nearby that we can put around the pit?"
"This is the Rocky Mountains, man. There's nothing but stones around here. Had a heck of a time trying to find a clear spot just to pitch the tent. Let me give you a hand." Grabbing the small digging tool they had packed, Blair started to make a pit in the open area in front of their tent. In a short time, the hole was dug, stones were laid and Jim began positioning the kindling for the fire.
Paying just enough attention to what he was doing, Jim felt along their bond to Blair when he noticed how quiet the younger man was acting. "How long are you going to keep me blocked?" he asked quietly. He saw Blair jump like he had been poked.
"I don't know what you mean." Blair pulled up his backpack and started to look through it with earnest.
After getting the kindling started and adding the necessary larger pieces of wood, Ellison sat back on his heels and looked over at Sandburg. After a lengthy silence, the later finally looked up. There was a calm patience in the face staring at him, telling Blair without words that they were going to talk this evening one way or another. Putting his pack back down, he pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around his knees. He kept his gaze locked onto the growing fire.
"I could have gotten you killed at the U, Jim. By not having control, I-I overwhelmed you."
"I wouldn't have exactly called it being overwhelmed, Sandburg."
"Okay flooded, deluged, inundated, call it whatever you want. I allowed my emotions to stop you cold and that could have gotten both you and Mac killed. That scared the hell out of me, man. What if " Blair's voice caught in his throat. "What if that happens while we're on stakeout or you're facing down some bad guy with a gun, or doing one of the fifty million other dangerous things you do in your job?"
"It was just a fluke, Chief. I know you didn't do it on purpose, we I just wasn't prepared when it happened. Now that I know about it, it won't happen again. It's like everything else we've gone through with this sentinel stuff. We're learning as we go." Jim added more wood to the fire and then sat back to give his full attention to his partner.
"The learning process shouldn't end up with someone dying. Being a grad student, who'd know better than I?"
Knowing that using the logical approach wasn't going to work this time, Ellison decided to use the only tactic that had any chance with Sandburg, speaking straight from the heart. "The first time that I realized I could 'feel' you, know what you were experiencing, I was overjoyed that we had some type of connection between us. You don't know how relieved I was when I could tell that you were still alive. Especially when thoughts of Alex doing something to kill you again were running through my head."
"But " Blair started to say but stopped when Jim held up his hand.
"Let me finish. Last year, after Charlie Walker drugged me, having our connection saved my sanity. My senses were overloaded and I was lost in my own mind. Feeling you come through the confusion was like finding a lifeline that I was not going to lose. But there's nothing there now, Chief. You're just a presence beside me and I I miss having you there. I need to have all of you with me, including your emotions."
Blair was stunned. Getting Jim Ellison to talk about his feelings was close to impossible. It had been only after traumatic situations that they had had any personal talks, and Blair had grown to accept that. But now, here was Mr. Tough-as-Nails bearing his soul and neither of them were suffering from some major injury.
"I don't know what to say, Jim," Blair mumbled.
"Just say that you'll quit shutting me out."
"But, I don't want to hamper you with your work. I mean, what if we get into another situation like at the U., though I'm not going to be crazy enough to back someone up like I did after that talking to you, Simon, Joel and Henri gave me. But, I mean "
"Chief."
" you know how things just seem to happen all the time, and especially to me. Look at the elevator in the Wilkerson Tower, or with L-L-Lash, and "
"Sandburg."
" then there was when we were on the Northstar oil rig with me getting clobbered by a radio tower. And how about getting shot trying to rescue Simon from Dawson Quinn? I'm just like some walking accident waiting to happen. Sometimes I want to ask you to see if there's this sign taped to my back that reads "
"Blair!" Ellison's raised voice finally broke through the flood of words that gushed from the smaller man. Startled, Blair stopped talking.
"We can work on your control with your emotions flowing through our bond the same way that you've helped me control my senses. We'll do it together, okay? Now, why don't you quit being such a pain in the ass and open back up." Jim smiled to take the bite out of his words.
Smiling back hesitantly, Blair stared into the fire and felt for the 'valve' he had mentally placed on the connection with his Sentinel. Carefully, he 'opened' it in slow degrees until it felt like a small but steady stream. Looking back up at his friend, he saw Jim relaxing.
"How's that?" Blair asked.
"Much better, Chief. Thank you. Now, are we okay with this? 'Cause I'm hungry and pretty soon the pains from my empty stomach will start overwhelming you if we don't get going with supper." Blair just gave his friend a sheepish smile and moved closer to help with the meal preparation.
After a few minutes of silence, Ellison spoke up. "I've been wanting to ask you about what you said you could see hanging around Mac. What did you call it? A shadow that showed you he had an illness? Do you see anything like that with others?"
"I you know its so strange but that's been the only time I've seen that. At least so far. It's sorta like I was supposed to see it since Mac was your friend and needed to help you at the U. And then when he died " Blair's voice trailed off with a doubtful sound.
"What's the matter, Chief?"
Blair looked up into concerned, blue eyes. He had a vivid memory of Mac's last day and hadn't been able to tell Jim about it. He thought back to that day and hesitantly related what he remembered.
Three Days Earlier
"I-I really don't think it's right for me to be in there, Jim. I mean, you're his friend and you've known each other for years and Joe's his brother. But I'm just someone he met a few weeks ago. It's not my place--" Blair argued as he tried to edge around his partner. He was stopped when Jim grabbed his shoulder and held up a finger.
"He asked for you, Sandburg. That gives you every right and the responsibility. Do you want to disappoint him now?" When Blair didn't answer, Jim turned him back around and together they walked into McLin's room. Sandburg steeled himself when the two men approached the bed where the dying man lay.
Ellison saw his Army friend valiantly struggling to maintain a brave appearance to those around him. Mac's complexion was gray, features were sunken and his breath was shallow, sounding like it bubbled through liquid. Joe McLin sat in his wheelchair on one side of the bed, holding a frail hand.
Blair saw something entirely different. The darkness that had first warned him of the illness McLin had was no longer a halo. It now covered the man like a veil, the dull black swirling in such a way as to block out a clear view of the man's face. Blair caught his breath and hesitated slightly until he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Taking a quiet, cleansing inhale of air, he forced the fear down.
McLin smiled when he saw the two men stop near his bed. "J.J. Sandburg. Thanks for comin. No, Joe please stay," he said to his brother when the man started to release the hand he held. "I can't think of a better group of people to see for the last time."
"Mac " Jim started to protest but McLin stopped him
"Don't argue with a dying man, J.J. Can you teach him anything about acceptance, kid?" he addressed the question to the silent Sandburg.
"He has a hard enough time with tolerance, Mac. Frankly, I'm sorta glad he doesn't accept things as is. Gives a whole new meaning to the idea of faith," Blair answered quietly, glancing at his partner. He owed his life to Jim's spirit of not giving up no matter what others said. A warm, indescribable feeling flowed back to him through the bond they shared. The ensuing silence was broken by Mac spasming into a phlemy cough.
"Maybe you should rest, Jimmy," McLin's brother spoke up when the other finally quieted.
"Can't, Joey," Mac gasped. "So little time and I've got some things to say." He strengthened his hold on the other's hand. "First, I've always loved you, brother. No matter how much we fought and all the angry words aside, I'm glad you are my brother." The chair- bound man dropped his head; silent tears fell unheeded to his lap. His answer was to give a shake and squeeze back to the hand he held.
Looking up at the distraught face of Sandburg, McLin gave him a lop-sided grin. "It's okay, kid. I'm finally going to get an answer to that question I asked you in the car back in Cascade. The other side has to be something pretty great since you aren't the worse for wear. And I know you'll keep this guy on his toes and flying right, so I won't tell you to. I'm glad we've had the time to get to know each other better."
Blair opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the dark veil swirled thicker. Closing his eyes to the sight, he just nodded and stepped back to allow Jim to step closer to the bed. Unconsciously, he raised his hand to his chest. Touching the amulet through his shirt, Blair sent a silent prayer for the dying man.
"We had one hell of a life. Haven't we, J.J." Mac spoke to the tall, stone-faced man, raising his hand.
"Wouldn't change a thing. You helped me more than I could ever repay you for, Mac. Then and now. Thank you." Ellison sat down on the edge of the bed carefully. He took the offered hand and enfolded it gently into a comradely clasp.
"'Never shall I fail my comrades.' That's what Rangers do, hoss. But I always knew you were special. Knew it from the day you almost kicked my ass at OCS." McLin struggled to draw in air and went into another coughing fit.
Both the elder McLin and Ellison clasped the hands they held tightly, trying to give the dying man strength. Stepping forward again, Sandburg knelt by the bed and laid a gentle hand on the convulsing shoulder. McLin quickly quieted. Ellison looked sharply at his partner but saw that the other was only providing a comforting touch and not trying to use his 'ability' again.
"Hoo-ah," McLin said weakly and then closed his eyes.
Ellison listened in anguish as McLin inhaled one more time and then his body relaxed. There wasn't any exhale. When he heard the weak heart beat cease, tears flowed down his face.
Joe McLin leaned forward and rested his head against his brother's chest. Quiet sobbing shook the body. "Peace, brother," he whispered.
Blair felt the body beneath his hand relax and then almost gasped aloud when he looked at McLin's now peaceful face. The black veil that had sickened him since entering the room vanished from the body. It was replaced by a bright glow that flowed up towards the head and formed into an incandescent ball of light that shot up and away from the body. It vanished into the ceiling. He marveled at the sight until his attention was brought back to the room by movement from his partner.
Ellison gently laid the cooling hand he held onto the still chest and gave it a soft pat. Without a word, he stood up and left the room. He continued walking, his footsteps leading him out the back door of the house and into the nearby woods.
Understanding the needs of his friend, as well as the grieving man across from him, Blair also stood up and left the room. Following the same path as Jim, Blair stopped when he reached the back porch. Wrapping his arms across his chest, he sat down into one of the deck chairs and waited patiently for his friend to return. Blair knew he would have several hours to contemplate what he had just seen. Then he would have to decide when Jim would be ready to hear it.
Present Day
Blair noticed that Jim had been very still while listening to him relate what he had seen at the moment of Mac's death. The memory still caused him no small amount of awe to have witnessed what he could only equate as the soul leaving the body. Why had he been allowed to see it? Was this a new level of his abilities?
"Thank you, Chief," Jim said softly. Blair ducked his head, happy to have given his friend comfort with the grief from his loss.
"But will you do me a favor in the future?" Jim voiced the words with intensity but offset them with an understanding smile. Blair looked up from the fire he had been staring at while telling the tale. "If you ever see this shadow again, make sure you tell me first. It's probably a warning for me to keep better track of you and your tendencies to get into trouble."
Blair gave him a mock salute. "Aye, aye, sir!"
"That's for the Navy, Chief." Jim swung his hand to smack his friend on the back of the head. Blair ducked and smiled impishly. The rest of the evening passed comfortably.
All throughout the next day, Jim could tell through their bond that his partner was more relaxed and enjoying the hike. There was one point along the trail that the calmness started to falter. They had to cross over a deep ravine using a large tree trunk that had been placed there many years ago by a forestry group. The top had been flattened and it was now a natural walkway.
There was a surge of fear and slight panic through their bond that was quickly dampened when they had approached the 'bridge.' It was a small warning to Jim of the difficulty Blair was going through. The fear of heights the smaller man experienced had been a hindrance before. But, speaking in a low, calm tone, Jim was able to get him across with only a minor delay. They decided to break early for lunch a short distance after that to allow each to take a breather.
"How're you doing there, Chief?" Ellison asked pulling a water bottle and a protein bar out of his backpack. While he could see that his friend had visibly recovered from crossing the ravine, Jim could hear that the other's heart rate was still elevated.
"You tell me, since you're obviously listening." Blair threw Jim a smile to offset the sharpness of his words. He knew that at this stage in their partnership, his friend would have to consciously tune Blair out to not be able to read him. And he wouldn't do that. "Man, why didn't they build a normal bridge over that thing? I mean, would it have been that much trouble?"
"Why bring in man-made materials when nature supplies everything you need. At least they sliced away enough of the trunk to make it a flat surface. But you've been over worse things than that. So why the reaction?"
Blair ran his hands through his hair to smooth it away from his face. A minor shake was still visible in his fingers. "I don't know. Maybe the elevation is playing havoc with my equilibrium. I just felt really unstable walking across that thing."
"Did you take your electrolytes before we started out?" Ellison had found a small box of the pills with the camping gear and remembered what high altitude could do to a person not acclimated to the area. "Altitude sickness is not something to play around with, Chief."
"Got them right here, man. I was going to down a couple before we got started again. Just have to make sure I've got something on my stomach before I take them. How much farther do we need to go?"
Ellison pulled out a map. "If we can make it over that ridge and down the other side in a couple of hours, there's supposed to be a flat area that should be fairly easy to reach. I'd like to be near some water, if possible."
"Could you see yourself living up here, Jim? I mean, it's so peaceful and beautiful without all the cars and noise."
"I've done my time of living in isolation, Chief. While it's nice to visit every now and then, I still prefer living in the city with its many conveniences. And speaking of conveniences, since there doesn't seem to be a bathroom nearby, I'll be right back. We need to be moving in about 10 minutes. Okay?" Ellison stood up and moved off into the brush.
Sandburg also stood and started walking in the opposite direction from his friend. "Yeah, sure. There are certain amenities that I wouldn't want to do completely without either," he mumbled the last words but knew his friend would hear him. Before moving completely off the trail, Blair searched the area around him. The feeling of being watched was back but, when he couldn't find the source, he shook it off.
The sun was beginning its downward movement toward the mountains when Jim stopped to pull the map from his back pocket. They were going down a switchback trail after crossing over a small ridge and he wanted to make sure how much farther they had to travel before the land would flatten out. He wouldn't have much of a problem traveling through the dark, but Blair didn't have his advantage and was showing signs that he was beginning to tire.
"It doesn't look like it's too much--" Jim started and then looked up. Peering up at the sky through the dense trees, he took a deep breath through his nose.
"What's the matter, Jim?" Blair looked at his partner with a quizzical look.
Rubbing his right ear, Ellison opened his jaw wide and tried to ease the pressure he felt building up near the eardrum. "I think we better look for a place now to stay the night, and then head back in the morning. Our luck with the weather is going to change tomorrow and the temp has been dropping all afternoon."
"You're feeling a change in the pressure? That's great, Jim! That's a classic example of sentinel behavior from Burton's studies. Are we gonna get rain or snow? How long do you think we have?" Blair's excitement bubbled out of him like a fountain.
"Smells like snow to me and I'd say by--" Jim had been concentrating intensely on his awareness of the change in the weather and didn't hear a very familiar sound until it was too late. It was the metallic click made by the hammer of a gun being cocked. Turning around quickly towards the direction of the noise, he was suddenly slammed backwards by a searing, hot flash of pain across his temple. Blinded by the sudden agony, his consciousness fled and he didn't feel the ground that rushed up to meet him.
Frozen momentarily by what he just saw, Blair watched his friend land a few feet up the trail. When the sound of the rifle shot finally reached his ears, he came back to life and raced to the fallen man.
"JIM!" he yelled and fell to his knees beside the body. His friend was lying on his side facing away. With shaking hands, Blair unsnapped the straps of Jim's backpack, eased it off his friend's back and tossed it to the side of the trail. Then he gently rolled the still man over onto his back. The first thing he saw was the blood flowing from the raw gash across Jim's left temple. Blair felt for a pulse and sagged in relief when he found the steady throb. "Oh, God! Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whisper fervently. Searching through his pockets, Blair located a handkerchief and held it to the wound. His attempt did little to stop the blood flow. It was going to take a pressure bandage to stop the bleeding.
Looking around carefully, Blair couldn't see the shooter, but that didn't mean he or she wasn't there. He knew he had to get his friend out of the open and think of someway to protect him from further danger. Standing up and moving around to get leverage, Blair grabbed Jim under the shoulders and pulled him off the trail into some trees. When he felt they were far enough into the brush, he knelt back down by Jim's side.
Pulling off his own pack, he dug through it and found a small first aid kit. Yanking it open, Blair fumbled for the items necessary to take care of the wound. The intense trembling of his hands made him labor harder at binding the injury. All the while, he spoke in a rambling fashion to his friend, "You're okay, Jim. It's just a-a minor head wound and you know how they bleed. Come on, man. You've had worse injuries and they barely phased you. What do you usually say? It's only a flesh wound. Please wake up, Jim."
Satisfied with his treatment of Jim's wound, Blair repacked the kit and pushed his backpack away. Taking the unconscious man's hand in both of his, Blair positioned two fingers over the pulse point. He sat for an unknown amount of time watching Jim, feeling the steady pulse beat beneath his fingers.
When he finally came back aware of his surroundings, and thinking that his friend might be getting cold, Blair started to reach for his jacket to take it off. His movements were stopped when two large arms grabbed him, trapping his own against his body, and dragged him up and away from his injured partner. His captor easily carried him back onto the trail, setting him onto the ground and wrapping one arm around his chest.
With a shriek of anger, Blair began to struggle frantically, kicking his feet into the legs of the large man holding him. He also began yelling at the top of his lungs, shouting for help and screaming obscenities at the man holding him. "No, damn it! Let me go, you bastard! HELP! JIM! Let go you son of a bit ack!" Blair's angry words were stopped abruptly when the arm around his chest slid up, encircled his neck and squeezed. He was pulled upwards until he was standing on his toes and couldn't breathe. With oxygen being cut off, his struggling became more violent and then slowly stilled.
No air! Black spots had begun to explode across his eyes and his body was going limp when the pressure around his neck finally eased. Gasping for breath, Blair felt himself released and he dropped to the ground. He landed face down, knocking out what little amount of air he had been able to pull in his lungs. His arms were pulled behind his back and a coarse rope was tied tightly around his wrists. Before he could catch his breath to start yelling again, a foul smelling cloth was forced into his mouth and tied behind his head.
Struggling not to choke over the taste coming from the cloth, Blair tried to look around but was unable to move very well. He could only see the legs of his attacker as the man stepped over him to pick up Jim's backpack. Walking back to his captive, the man took hold of Blair by his jacket and pulled him to his feet. With a yank, Blair broke free of the hands holding him and staggered around to get a look at the man.
He was a giant, or pretty close to it. The man stood at least 6' 8" or taller and was solidly built. He had long, shaggy black hair that was partially covered by a stocking cap but still hung in his eyes. His eyes; they were dark and looking at Blair like he was a specimen in a lab. Seeing the indignation in his captive's eye, the large man chuckled, his voice low and thick. The man wore clothes looking like something worn by fur trappers in old movies and smelling like they hadn't been washed in a week or more. He had Jim's backpack slung over one shoulder
Blair tried to stumble back and away, but the man reached forward and caught the edge of his jacket with a meaty hand. He was easily dragged back in the direction of where his partner lay.
"Don't fight me," the man's voice rumbled deeply when Blair tried to dig his heels into the dirt. It was no use. He could no more keep from being moved forward than he could stop the wind from blowing.
Reaching the still body of his friend, Blair suddenly surged forward and tried to break free. The giant moved his hand from the front of the jacket to the back, grabbing the smaller man by the collar and jerking him to a halt. With his huge boot, the man nudged the body of the detective. He remained unconscious. Before Blair could do anything, the boot hooked under Jim's shoulder and lifted upwards, rolling him over and down the embankment. The backpack was thrown after him.
Blair's shriek of 'No!' was muffled by the gag. He tried to go after his friend but was again stopped. Dragging the struggling man with him, the large man moved sideways and retrieved his prisoner's backpack.
Blair went berserk. Voicing muffled shouts through the gag, he kicked towards his captor and caught the man in the shin and then in the knee. Roaring in pain, the giant released his prisoner and clutched at his leg. Taking advantage of his freedom, Blair bolted down the trail in the direction he and Jim had come. It was toward civilization and help. But he had only run a short way when a heavy hand slapped down onto his back, knocking him down to the ground.
Before he could scramble back up, Blair was rolled over onto his back. Looking up, the last thing he remembered seeing was a large fist heading for his face. Then there was pain, stars exploded in his eyes and finally darkness.
It was the jarring action of landing on something barely cushioned that forced Blair back towards consciousness. He was cold, stiff and really unsure about what he had done to feel this way. Whatever he had in his mouth that tasted so terrible was removed. Fingers brushed his hair away from his face to touch the spot along his jaw that felt hot and sore. Oh, man. What happened? The touch was gentle, probing the area carefully, so it could only be one person. "J-Jim?" he croaked out.
"You shouldn't have kicked me and tried to run away," a gravelly voice rumbled. Something cold and wet was placed on his throbbing jaw.
Not recognizing the voice, Blair forced his eyelids open to see who was treating his injury. It was dark and the figure in front of him was fuzzy. When his eyes finally focused, the face looking into his wasn't the familiar one he expected. It was the guy who had kidnapped him after shooting his partner. The same one who had knocked him out with one punch after he had tried to escape.
With a surge of fear, Blair jerked himself away from the hand holding the rag on his face. He tried to scramble back but his hands, numb and still bound, hampered his movements. Wiggling frantically backwards on his side, he was stopped by a wall at the edge of the thin mattress he was lying on.
"Stay away from me." His mouth was too dry for his voice to rise above a whisper. When the large man picked the wet cloth back up and extended it towards him, Blair jerked his head back and smacked it against the wall. Looking frantically around for an avenue of escape, he could see that he was in a small room that had one window, shuttered, and one door. The only light available came from the room through the door.
"I'm not going to hurt you. But if you start yelling again, I'll put the gag back. Danny can't have loud noises right now." Standing up, the large man moved away from his cringing captive and walked towards the door.
"W-wh-why?" Blair forced the word out, making the man turn back and look at him. He swallowed hard at the look the other gave him. "Wha what do you want?"
"Danny says you're a special person and you have a a power to help him." Blair could hear skepticism and something close to anger in the larger man's voice. "He thinks your magic can make him better." The door closed, leaving Blair in the dark, alone and scared.
"Oh, God," Blair whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Not again." Lying back down onto the bed, he struggled to hold in the tears. The one thing that helped him keep control was the knowledge he had through their bond that Jim was unconscious, but still very much alive. Clinging to that, he allowed natural sleep to claim him
Ellison didn't know which brought him back to consciousness, the steady hammering behind his left eye or the snowflakes that were falling and melting on his face with increasing frequency. Maybe it was both or neither, but he knew that he had to wake up. As if he was lifting a ton of weight with each lid, Jim forced his eyes open.
Despite the canopy of tree limbs overhead, snow was softly falling all around him. Blinking his eyes a few times to clear his vision, he carefully lifted his head to see where he was lying. The movement caused the dull ache to sharpen and spread from his temple, over his head and down his neck.
Lifting his hand, Jim felt the bandage encircling his head. With a groan, he called out to the person he expected to see when he came to. "Sandburg?" There was no answering reply. "Sandburg? Blair!" Jim shouted louder, fear forming in his chest when he didn't get a response. In the back of his mind, he thought he could hear the anguished scream of a large cat.
Struggling to sit up, Ellison became aware of his location. He was lying at an angle on a hillside, his back against a tree. It had apparently stopped his downward movement. Looking around, he saw his backpack laying a short distance away but no indication that his friend and partner was anywhere in the area. Whoever shot me must have taken him, Jim thought with apprehension. He tried to 'feel' for Blair along their bond but the pain in his head was clouding his mind. I need to find that dial. Think, Ellison. What would Blair say to help you?"
Finally remembering, he struggled to take control of his breathing. He was able to find the dial for pain and bring the blinding throb down to a more manageable level. With the lessening of the pain, he was able to 'find' his friend and reassure himself that Blair was alive but frightened. Now he had to find him as soon as he figured out where he was.
The area around him was dark but not completely, his internal clock telling him that it was some time around dawn. The snow already on the ground was reflecting the light from the brightening sky, giving him all the light he needed to see. Moving carefully, Ellison used a tree to pull himself up into a standing position. The world tipped dangerously onto its side for a few minutes. With a supreme effort, and several deeps breaths, his vision straightened. He took careful steps over to where the backpack lay, took a firm hold of its strap and then climbed up the hill.
Reaching the top, Ellison saw that he was at the trail he'd last been with Sandburg. Using his enhanced eyesight, he scanned the area for any clue as to who had shot him and took his friend. While the falling snow was starting to cover the grassy areas the dirt trail was only becoming muddy. But, it wasn't going to stay that way long. The snowfall was getting heavier and, from what his senses were telling him, going to continue for quite some time.
Focusing on one spot that caught his attention, he could tell there had been a struggle of some sort. The area was torn up but there were a few good footprints visible. One was definitely Sandburg's; the sole markings of his hiking boots were easily recognizable. The other prints were of a large man; bigger than he was which probably allowed him to easily subdue his much smaller friend.
Searching further around, Ellison was able to locate his map lying off the trail and partially buried in the snow. It must have fallen there after he'd been shot. Finding his current location, Jim mapped the direction he felt Blair was in. The snow was going to eventually eliminate any trail left by his partner's captor, so he needed to plan the route to find them by using the map and their bond.
When he felt he had calculated the best path to travel, Jim squatted down and dug into his backpack. He first brought out his service weapon and, removing it from it's holder, checked the magazine. Satisfied it was fully loaded, he reholstered it and hooked it on the back of his belt behind his back. Then he dug for his water bottle and the aspirins he knew he had packed. Downing two of the pills with several swallows of water, Jim went through a mental preparation of what he was going to do. "Don't worry, Chief. I'll find you," he spoke with quiet confidence.
A throaty growl from above echoed his words. Like a comforting specter, Ellison's spirit guide lounged on the limb above him. 'We'll get him back,' it seemed to say. With that firmly set in his mind, he replaced the water bottle and closed up the backpack. After settling it comfortably onto his shoulders, Jim set off into the falling snow following behind an animal that left no tracks.