Disclaimer:The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of UPN, Paramount and Pet Fly Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made.

Many ‘Thank You’s’ are in order. To Tonya who saw the first draft and said it wasn’t hopeless. To Cindy for adding commas, suggestions, encouragement and putting up with a cougar that kept popping up where it didn’t belong. To Andromede for even more commas, suggestions, synonyms and encouragement. Finally to Leslie with extreme gratitude. Only through her encouragement this story is seeing the light of the internet. When I needed to know ‘Does that make sense?’ or "Remind me why I’m still working on this?’ she always had an answer. Somehow, she managed to read every revision of every scene and still not change her email address. Thank you my friend.

INTO THE WILDERNESS

JJ

Blair leaned back against the tree and slid down to sit at the base. He pulled his legs up toward his chest, his head drooped forward. "I am never leaving the loft again. Never, never, never. I’ll just phone my lectures in and become a hermit." He inhaled deeply through his nose and let the air slowly out of his mouth, trying to center his thoughts and arrange the past day’s events into some kind of coherent order.

(2 weeks earlier)

Jim finished wiping the counter and rinsed the dishcloth. Wincing, Blair pulled the last plate out of the dish drainer.

Jim took the towel and the dish out of his hand. "You know, the more you do with that wrist the longer it’ll take to heal."

"Yeah, Yeah, I know, but the least I can do is wipe the dishes."

"Just remember, you break it, you buy the replacements."

Blair laughed a little as he walked into the living room. He grabbed his backpack with his left hand and settled on the couch. Pampering his bandaged right wrist, he pawed through the pack until he found the tests he had planned to grade.

A few minutes later Jim wandered into the living room. Dropping into a chair near the couch, he picked up the remote and began channel surfing. An hour later, he gave up on finding anything interesting and clicked the TV off. He searched for the book he wanted to finish, finally finding it under some of the papers Blair had already graded. Settling back into the chair, he started reading.

Several chapters later his concentration was broken by faint murmurs. "Nice try Pete. All flash, no substance." Blair scratched a few notes on the paper, put it aside and picked up another.

Jim watched Blair take off his glasses, rub his eyes and put them back on. "Hey Chief, your semester break starts next Monday doesn’t it?"

"Yeah," he said, concentrating on the test in front of him.

"What do ya say to a vacation? I’ve got a friend in Montana who offered me the use of his place while he was gone."

"I don’t know, Jim." Blinking, Blair looked up from the paper he was grading. "I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on because of the three days I was out."

"In the past two weeks you’ve either been at the university, the hospital, or the station. Kid, you really need some down time. Why do you think you sprained your wrist?"

Blair laughed. "Hey, work didn’t hurt my wrist or give me sore ribs. It was Franks when he ran over me, trying to catch that pop up fly."

"True, but part of it was your own fault. You haven’t been here even when you’re here."

Frowning, Blair opened his mouth but Jim held up his hand.

"Before you say a word Chief, think about it. Sometimes you act like you’re the one in the middle of a zone out. I end up repeating myself half the time because your head is somewhere else. Not to mention the times I’ve come down and found you face first on your laptop, typing the letter "h" with your nose. You need a break. Between the time you’ve put in at the station and your work load at the university, well, let’s just say you’re walking a pretty thin line."

Blair could see he was on the losing end of the battle. Besides it might be nice to get away to someplace a little different. Someplace different, wait a minute, Montana’s climate is different than Cascade’s. His mind began racing with possible tests.

"You know you’re right, I need a break. When do we leave?"

Jim was pleased he had won but was somewhat suspicious about the abrupt turn around. He’d been prepared for a tougher fight. Blair had given in a little too quickly. The grin on the younger man’s face made him feel that he may have won the battle, but Blair had won the war.

The following Monday afternoon found Blair dropping his pack by the door. Jim’s bulging pack made Blair wonder if his roommate had meant they’d be gone a month, not two weeks. A bright orange ditty bag caught his eye. When did Jim pick that up? Blair wondered as he reached over to grab it.

"That’s the Blair Sandburg repair kit." Jim’s voice called from behind him. "Good for headaches, sprains, breaks, poison ivy, snake bite, or whatever else ails you."

Blair yanked his hand away from the bag as if it had grown fangs. "Snake bite!?"

"Relax Chief, I doubt we’ll run into any snakes. I just like to be prepared. It seems that you have more than your share of ‘incidents’ that require medical assistance."

You’re going to pay for that remark, thought Blair. Some real nasty tests. Perhaps something to do with finding 4 day old sweat socks. "Are you implying that I’m accident prone?"

"No, not prone, more like an accident waiting to happen."

No, not sweat socks maybe something like....

"Come on Chief, grab your gear."

Blair grabbed his backpack with his right hand, wincing as the weight pulled on his tender wrist. He glanced behind him to see if Jim had noticed. No, the big guy was checking to be sure the coffee pot was unplugged. Quickly, he transferred the pack to his left hand and picked up a lighter bag with his right.

"Hey man, I’m gone." Blair hurried out the door leaving Jim to grab his own bags.

They drove to the airport. Jim dropped Blair and the luggage off at the entrance, then went to the long term parking area. After he locked the truck, Jim walked back to the terminal. Using his Sentinel vision, he watched Blair absorbing his surroundings bouncing on his toes. Never still for long, the kid seemed to be in perpetual motion, always watching, measuring, searching for some new truth or at least a new question. Over the past semester, Blair’s enthusiasm had waned. Too many late nights trying to keep up with grading tests and preparing lectures while working with Jim had dulled his natural verve.

Blair didn’t notice Jim behind him until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Startled, he jerked his head around and grinned at his friend. "Hey, you’ve got to see this. I’ve been watching that small skinny kid. He is wearing a T-shirt that says "your momma is a...."

Jim interrupted, "I get the picture, Sandburg. So?"

"Well, for one thing, the reaction or lack of it from the people reading the shirt. Some people see it and look away, as if ignoring it will make the kid and his shirt go away. Others don’t seem to even see it. I’d bet they don’t even see the kid. It would be an interesting study to measure how much people are willing to ignore and if, at what point, they will confront something like this. Then, of course, one would have to do a comparative study between various cultures, as to the breakdown of mores and morals, just how much will a given society put up with...."

Sandburg’s lecture continued from the sidewalk to the baggage check in and into the waiting area. Jim felt his eyes glazing over by the time he heard the boarding announcement. "Wait a minute, they are calling our flight number. We don’t have time to conduct a sociological study."

Blair tried to stifle a snicker when he saw the relief on Jim’s face.

Jim looked at him. "What’s so funny?"

"You are, man. It took you about 20 minutes before you started to fade on me. Your endurance is getting longer. When we first met it only took about three minutes and you were gone."

Blair can tell when I’m starting to drift? Going to have to watch that.

Once aboard the plane, Jim stashed his jacket and the orange ditty bag in the overhead compartment. "Hand me your bag and I’ll put it up here."

"Thanks man, but I’ll keep it."

The plane was fairly empty, but they sat together. Jim snagged the aisle seat to stretch out his long legs, leaving Blair the window seat. As Jim tightened his seat belt, he listened with half an ear to Blair rambling about zone outs.

"Your zone outs are dependent on your interest in the stimuli. We may be able to control the length and depth of a zone out by first consciously altering the amount of interest. I’ll have to start with a test to first measure your attention span in relation to various catalysts and then attempt to alter the zone out by deliberately changing the depth of your interest."

Jim hadn’t heard much except the word ‘TEST’. With a sinking feeling he realized he’d been right. He’d won the battle, but he’d lost the war.

The flight attendants began their preflight checks. Prompting Blair to do his own preflight check on his partner. "Have you turned down your hearing?"

"Yeah, it’s gotten to be a habit. All I needed were a couple experiences leaving my hearing at ‘normal’ while flying and I learned my lesson." Jim relaxed back into the seat and closed his eyes.

The plane’s engines revved up and they taxied down the runway. Opening his carry-on bag, Blair reached in for his tape player and head set. It wasn’t in the usual place. Unzipping another section, he groped around the pocket and found nothing. Panic flashed through his mind as he continued to hunt through the two compartments. It really wasn’t there. Racking his brain, he tried to remember the last time he had seen it. With sickening clarity, he could see it laying on his bed. He had forgotten to put it back in the bag that morning after replacing the batteries. Now what?

He concentrated on breathing and repeating, I will not panic, I will not panic, I will not....Blair’s resolve drained away as the plane lifted off the ground.

An eternity later the flight attendant announced: "Your attention, ladies and gentlemen. The captain has turned off the seat belt sign. You may move around the cabin."

Blair didn’t wait to hear her finish.

"Excuse me Jim, I gotta go," Sandburg said as he clambered over Jim’s legs.

"Sandburg, why does it seems like every time we get on a plane you head toward the john once the seat belt sign turns off?" complained Jim, keeping his eyes closed.

Blair replied with what he hoped was a light tone. "Must be the combination of lift off and gravity pressure on the bladder." Then he strolled to the back of the plane.

At least he hoped he was strolling and not running. Thank Whoever was watching over him today that the bathroom was open. Once inside, Blair slumped against the wall, he leaned his head back, whispering "Come on man, get it together, remember to keep breathing, concentrate on breathing, in and out, in and out." Where had this panic attack come from? He knew where, but didn’t want to admit it. Damn acrophobia! Normally he didn’t have a problem with flying, as long as he had something to keep him occupied. But without his tape player, he didn’t have anything to distract himself. How was he going to make it through this flight? Breathing deeply, he realized he’d been in the small restroom for quite some time. He’d better get out before someone came to check on him. Taking a steadying breath. Blair opened the door to a concerned flight attendant. "Sir, are you feeling all right?"

Blair managed a wan smile. "Yeah, my stomach was a little queasy, but I’m fine now." He started past her but stopped short and turned around. "Do you have the earphones for inflight music?"

She shook her head. "I’m sorry sir, you must have missed the announcement that we are having difficulties with the sound system."

Blair’s one hope of getting through this flight vanished. He dragged himself back to his seat. Since there was still plenty of daylight left, Blair stared at his feet while he walked. Don’t look out the window, Don’t look out the window.

"What’s up, Chief?" Jim watched Blair sink into his seat and squeeze his eyes shut.

"Nothing, just a little nauseous."

"Don’t lie to me Sandburg. Your heart rate is up, you’re sweating, not to mention your breathing...."

"Fine," Blair snapped. "Don’t mention it!"

"Whoa, Chief." Jim held up his hands. "I’m just trying to help."

Blair kept his eyes closed but one word slipped past his lips. "Heights."

"I know you don’t like heights, but we’ve flown together several times and you’ve never reacted like this."

"Usually when I’m flying with you, we’re in the middle of something and I don’t have time to think about anything but the job. This time I don’t have anything to focus on and I forgot to bring my tape player along."

"Anything I can do?"

Blair shook his head.

What can I do? Blair’s always there for me. Helping me to focus, talking me through a zone out. Maybe that’s it. Talking. I just need to get him taking, give him something to focus on, something else besides being 25,000 feet in the air....

"So Sandburg, tell me.." Tell me what? Jim’s mouth closed, his mind scrambled for something to say. Damn, how does the kid do this? He can make a conversation with a monk sworn to a vow of silence. Then an idea struck. "That kid in the airport, what kind of study would you conduct again?"

"Man, who knows, it was just a passing thought," Blair muttered.

Great, the opening I gave Sandburg would normally have him jabbering until I told him to shut up. Now what?

Pondering his options, he realized that for all of Blair’s talk he didn’t know much about his partner. I wonder if I should ask him...

"Have you always had a problem with heights?" Jim watched him closely thinking about the best way to handle Blair if he flipped out.

Blair drew a ragged breath. Even with Sentinel hearing Jim had to strain to hear a quiet "No."

"Come on Chief, talk to me."

Blair’s eyes remained closed, but he began talking...

"It started shortly after I fell out of that tree and broke my arm." Jim could hear Blair’s heart beating faster. He took a deep breath. "It didn’t happen right away. A ride at the summer fair triggered it. A new boyfriend of Naomi’s took us to the fair. There was a hot new ride, "The Cage". All the kids wanted to go on it. So to get in good with Naomi he took me." Memories overwhelmed him. His breath came more rapidly. Eyes squeezed shut, Blair wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach and hunched forward.

Jim leaned forward. Now what do I do? Instinct took over. He put his hand on Blair’s shoulder feeling the minute tremors. "Chief," he whispered, "Chief, listen to me, the ride’s over. Come on back".

A voice broke into Blair’s wall of panic. A voice he relied on, one he knew he could trust. He focused on it, following it out of the chaotic memories. The quivering slowed and stopped. Blair sank back into his seat.

Opening up his eyes, he gave a weak laugh, "Hey, who’s supposed to be the guide here?"

Jim smiled as he searched his friend’s face. He found only exhaustion, the terror had vanished.

"Chief, if I had known, well, I wouldn’t have brought the subject up. You’ve climbed trees, stood at the edge of 12 story buildings and jumped from a waterfall. I never suspected you were that terrified of heights."

"Man, it’s okay. I was caught unprepared and it triggered an attack. When I minored in Psych, I focused on phobias. I learned how to manage my particular phobia." Blair opened his eyes and turned his body toward Jim, effectively shutting off his view of the window.

"Acrophobia is weird. A person can be fine skiing on a mountain, but put that same person in a glassed elevator and he comes unglued."

"Are all attacks as severe as that?"

"No, sometimes it’s a small anxiety attack, a little increase in breathing and pulse rate but manageable. Other times it feels like you are going to die. This one was somewhere in between."

"Somewhere in between," echoed Jim. "You’ve had worse?"

"Oh yeah man, before I learned how to control it, I needed drugs just to get up on a chair." Blair glanced over at Jim’s face. "That was a joke. You know, something to lighten things up." He continued, "Drugs are available, but I’ve never taken any.. You know me, natural solutions."

He stared down at the floor. Jim strained to hear his next words. "For a long time acrophobia ruled my life. I arranged everything around it. If a class was on the 4th floor, I either found someone to take notes or took another class. You know, they say that people gravitate toward psychology because they want to figure themselves out. Well, that’s why I minored in Psych. Through experimentation, I learned how to control my phobia....most of the time." Blair gave Jim a lopsided grin.

Jim wasn’t sure what to say. He was spared by the announcement that they were about to land and for everyone to buckle their safety belts.

Shutting his eyes, Blair tried to take a deep breath, reminding himself that he was going to be on ‘terra firma’ soon. Jim could hear Blair’s heart beating like some out of control heavy metal band. His breath was hard, short and fast. "Blair, we’re almost down, listen to me, try not to think about anything but my voice." Jim kept up the quiet monologue.

Blair’s world narrowed until it only consisted of Jim’s voice holding him back from the edge, "Hey Blair, you can open your eyes now, we’re down. It’s time to get off." Jim tugged on the younger man’s sleeve.

Blair dropped his head forward, Thank God, thank God. There was no way he was going back on a plane. He would promise to spit shine the floor at the loft, sell his beloved Native mask collection, anything to get Jim to rent a truck to go back to Cascade. Glancing up at Jim, who was tugging his bag out of the upper compartment, Blair hesitated and drew a deep breath. "Jim."

"Ya know, Chief, we can take the rental truck back to Cascade instead of flying."

"Thanks, man."

Jim held up his hand to forestall anything else Blair had planned to say. "Don’t get sentimental on me. I’m your blessed protector, I’m supposed to take good care of you."

Blair stood up and gave him a look that said ‘Yeah, right. It’s not that simple.’

Sandburg waited in the baggage area for the rest of their gear, while Jim picked up their rental truck. Blair checked at his watch. 9:00 pm. The flight had only been an hour. The way he felt, it had been 59 minutes too long.

Blair saw their luggage sliding down the baggage ramp. Unthinking, he jerked Jim’s backpack off the carousel with his right hand. Pain shot up his unwrapped wrist from the weight of the pack. Dropping the bag to the floor, he grabbed at the protesting joint. Hissing through his teeth, he waited for the throbbing to subside before trying to grab his own pack. There went two weeks of babying right out the window. His bag went by a few times until he managed to slide it off. He pulled his backpack on his right shoulder then picked up Jim’s pack with his left hand.

Jim stood by a green Cherokee. "Got everything?" Jim asked as he grabbed the packs from Blair and threw them in the back.

"Yeah. Although, I was tempted to leave yours and grab something a little lighter. What did you pack in there?"

"Only what we needed."

"You could have left the weights at home." Grinning, Blair climbed into the truck. "Where are we staying tonight?"

"I checked with the hotel while you were waiting for the bags. To quote an old cliche - I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news."

Blair groaned inside. None of it’ll be good news. Just variations of the theme that has been run through the entire trip so far.

"Okay, so what’s the bad news, no hotel reservations?"

"Oh the hotel has our reservations" Jim paused, "For tomorrow night. To top it off, there’s some college rodeo-- finals in town and everything else is booked."

"And the good news?"

"They found us a place to stay."

"Where, the Bates Motel?"

Jim laughed, "No, it’s booked too, but there is a campground outside of a small town about an hour away from here. Looks like we’re going to be roughin’ it a night sooner." He watched his partner take in the news. Tight lines of exhaustion and something else, but Jim wasn’t sure what, had taken their toll. So much for the exuberant young man from Cascade. "You okay with that?"

The worn out young man’s head dropped toward his chest. No, I’m not okay with that. I want a hot shower, a bed and some aspirins.

Wishing wouldn’t make a room appear out of nowhere. Blair inhaled deeply and exhaled. Squaring his shoulders, he looked at Jim and gave a faint, "No problem, let’s go."

Blair read the map, giving Jim the directions out of town and onto the interstate. Late spring in the mountains still meant shorter days. In fact, it had been dark when they had flown into Bozeman. The moon had just been starting to crest over the mountains as they left town. Driving east toward their destination, the light of the full moon created high silent mountain sentries watching as they drove past Livingston onto the flats below.

The first thirty minutes of their trip were spent in companionable silence, each man wrapped in his own thoughts. The quiet drained the tension away, allowing the younger man to relax and push the terror filled memories back into the box inside his head.

"Whatcha thinking about, Chief?"

"Memories." Blair stared out his window, shutting the Sentinel out. Jim took the hint, knowing Blair would talk when he was ready.

Blair turned away from the scenery toward Jim. "Do you know what makes you who you are?"

"Is this the old question about nature or nurture?"

"No, that’s just something that amateur sociologists use to impress their dates." Blair went back to window gazing. "Memories make us what we are."

Jim could see where this was going, but Sandburg needed to get it out of his system. He gave a non-committal sound of encouragement and waited for Blair to continue.

"Everything we see or experience leaves its mark on our memory and colors anything that comes after that moment. Some memories we stuff into a little room in our head and lock the door, praying to forget. But we never do. The moment you leave that door unguarded those ugly, painful memories break the door down, wrecking havoc all over again." He leaned his head against the cool window.

Jim was still struggling for a suitable reply when Blair’s next question caught him off guard.

"Do we have to go to the campground?"

"What?" Jim shot a quick glance at his friend.

"How about we find a place to pull over and camp there for the night?"

Jim spared Blair an incredulous look before turning his attention back to the road. "What?"

"Come on Jim." Blair twisted toward his friend, gesturing with his hands. "Where’s your sense of adventure? After all, what’s a vacation about if you can’t be impulsive?"

"Impulsive isn’t my style."

"That’s what’s so great about vacations. You can do whatever you want and be whoever you want. Change your style, change your appearance, wear something different. No one’s around who will recognize you and at the end of the vacation you go back to being you." He gave Jim a wicked grin. "Although, it’s possible you may like the new persona and not want to change."

Jim still appeared unconvinced about the idea of being impulsive. Blair hurried on, "Come on, your life is so structured, you need some variety."

"Oh, so you’re saying my life isn’t varied enough with thieves, murderers, dope addicts and shoot outs?"

"That’s not what I’m saying at all. Sure your life is busy, exciting and varied but it’s still YOUR life. It’s who you are. I’m just saying, that while you have a chance, try someone else’s lifestyle for a change."

"I suppose you think I should try your lifestyle?"

"I honestly hadn’t thought about it, but why not? Who do you know better than me? We’ve been sharing the same space for over two years and...." Sandburg stopped abruptly in mid-thought.

"What?" asked Jim.

Blair fell silent, his hands quieted.

"Blair, something wrong?"

"Nothing," Blair said, reaching over to fiddle with the radio dials.

"Come on, I know you better than that."

"No, you don’t." He continued playing with the knobs searching for music.

Jim started to laugh. "Sandburg, we live together, we work together, hell, we’ve even gone on a couple of dates together. I know you as well as your own mother does." He laughed again. "I bet I know you better than Naomi."

Finding nothing but faint words accompanied by tuneless static, Blair gave up on the radio. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door. "You know some of my idiosyncrasies, but you don’t know what it is to be like me." He picked up the Montana road map and tried to find their destination by holding it up to catch the bright moonlight. "So, how far from town is this campground?"

A person could get whiplash the way this kid changes directions. Sometimes it’s so hard to keep up with him, a million thoughts and emotions running through that mind all wanting to be recognized. No wonder Blair seems to be constantly jazzed. If he slows down something might catch him. Ellison glanced at his friend who had given up map reading for star gazing. It’s got to be a challenge to stay ahead of the game.

Jim pulled the truck over to the side of the interstate and stopped.

"What’s up? I thought the campground was another half hour away."

Jim’s eyes met Blair’s. "Okay kid, you’re on. You think I don’t know you. Well, I think I do. I’m going to be you."

Stunned, Blair burst out laughing. When he had regained a little control, he looked at his partner, who didn’t appear to share Blair’s sense of humor. "I’m sorry man, but it was too funny to contemplate."

"What?" Jim’s mouth tightened into a firm line.

"Oh, come on. You don’t know the first thing about being me. Except, maybe that I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in hospitals."

Jim had felt a little silly when the words ‘I’m going to be you’ had come out of his mouth. But now Blair had thrown down the gauntlet.

"I’m a detective, it’s my job to observe people. Of course, I know you."

"No, I don’t think you do." Jim’s eyes turned to steel blue. "Yeah, you know me, but you don’t know a thing about BEING me. Not that that’s surprising. It would be surprising if you did."

"Okay, so maybe I don’t know your PIN number like you know mine."

"I don’t have a PIN number."

"That’s beside the point."

"Jim, are you listening to yourself? You’re suggesting role playing in the middle of the night in Montana!" Blair shook his head. "It must be something in this cold, dry mountain air."

"Are you trying to say that I couldn’t be you?"

"You’d go nuts trying to be me. It would mean you would have to give up a certain degree of control." Blair looked away for a moment then turned back. "And that’s something you couldn’t do easily, or for very long."

"Okay Chief." Jim pulled the keys out of the ignition and tossed them to Blair. "You get to be me."

"Are you serious?" Surprised, Blair almost missed the keys.

Jim got out of the truck and walked around to Blair’s side. Opening the door, he said, "Yep, I’m going to try life being you. You can try life out being me."

With an open mouth, Blair hopped out of the truck. He was still speechless as Jim got in and shut the door.

He’s really serious. What happened? What did I say? Blair walked around to the back of the truck and stopped. He sat down on the edge of the bumper and stared up at the stars. What am I going to do? He rubbed his forehead for a moment then stopped. What am I worried about? He won’t be able to play this game for very long. Blair’s thoughts were interrupted by Jim getting out of the truck and walking around the back to where Blair sat.

"What’s up Chief? Get lost on your way to the driver’s side?" He smiled down at his sky gazing friend. "Get a move on, it’s getting late and we’ve still got a ways to go tonight.

"Wow, that has got to be the shortest identity switch on record." Blair continued staring at the sky looking for answers. "I knew you couldn’t stand it for more than 5 minutes."

"What?"

"You just can’t give up control." Blair tilted his head toward the taller man. "Didn’t you hear yourself a few minutes ago? ‘Get moving, it’s late, we’ve got a ways to go.’ Any of that sound familiar?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So I wouldn’t have said any of that."

Jim threw up his hands. "Oh come on Sandburg, I’ve heard you say things like that."

"Sure I have, but usually whenever I have to make an appointment." He stood up and faced Jim. "As far as I know we don’t have any appointments in this canyon tonight."

Jim took a deep breath and blew it out. "Okay Chief, what do you say we try this again?"

"Why is this so important?"

"You threw out a challenge. I don’t back down from challenges."

"Fine. If you’re going to be me, there are some ground rules." Blair stood up and faced Jim. "First of all, I’m not you. It’s not that I can’t be you, but the challenge will be in trying to be me from a different frame of reference. You’ve only seen me as Blair Sandburg - friend, partner and guide to Jim Ellison. So your idea of what it is to be me is the result of that experience. My part in this little role play is to be someone similar like my mom."

The confusion on Jim’s face was priceless. Blair turned away for a moment to avoid laughing out loud.

"So you want to be my mother?" This is starting to get a little weird.

"No, you’re missing the point. If I were to be like you, I would have to control things, and, thereby you would still exist in some semblance of a controlled environment. This way you will have to try to be me outside the box we’ve shared the last two years." Blair turned toward the dark outline of the mountains against the moonlit sky.

Jim frowned trying to assimilate Blair’s ground rules. Sandburg turned back, his blue eyes intent on Jim’s face. Then he laughed. "Jim, come on man, don’t stress, it’s not a problem. You like control. Role playing isn’t something everyone can do. Hey, some days I don’t want to be me either."

So, Blair thinks it’s about control? He doesn’t think I can do it. Jim smiled. "You’re on. How long shall we set this up for? How about the next forty-eight hours?"

Blair could see Jim was serious and decided to play along, if only to see how long Jim could last. "One more thing Jim, you’ll have to turn your senses down. I know you can’t shut them off altogether, but they have to be turned down to normal for this to work."

"No problem." Jim turned around and started back toward the passenger side. He hadn’t completely turned down his hearing when he heard Blair chuckle. "I bet he won’t last 24 hours."

"Put your money where your mouth is, Chief. I’ll go the full forty-eight hours. If I don’t, you get a week’s worth of testing. If I do, you have to help me strip and refinish all the wood in the loft."

"You’re on!" was the last thing he heard before he turned the dial down on his hearing.

Blair got in the truck and put the key in the ignition. "So Jimbo, check the map and tell me where we get off for the campground."

"Jimbo?"

"Yeah, I figured with a new personality, you need a new name."

"I don’t think so."

Blair knew he had crossed the line. "Okay Jim, which exit do we take for the campground?"

"Let’s just take the next exit and camp out." How’s that for spontaneity, Sandburg? Pleased by the surprised expression on Blair’s face, he decided to add more. "We’ll drive for an hour then make camp. Tomorrow we’ll take the back road up through the mountains to my friend’s place. It’s not as if we need to stop in town to go grocery shopping. We packed plenty of food."

Jim could hear the laughter in Sandburg’s voice. "Nice try. Except for the first part, you sounded like you always do - planned, organized, methodical, like this was some tactical maneuver.. What do you think I would have said?"

Jim thought it over. What would Sandburg have said? This may a little more difficult than he anticipated. Let’s see, Sandburg, 28, a teaching assistant, talks constantly, lives mainly in the here and now. Forcing a large smile he turned to Sandburg, "Hey man, let’s skip the campground, take the next exit and camp in the back country."

Jim was rewarded with, "Much better. You know, if we were really going to do this right, we should have stopped in town and picked up some clothes from the Salvation Army to complete the transformation."

Before Jim could protest, Blair continued. "Nah, it’s way too late and I’d much rather get into the mountains tonight." He pulled off at the next exit and turned off onto a dirt road.

Blair glanced at his watch, 11:15. What was he doing driving into the mountains at this hour? He glanced at his passenger. The knitted brow, the inward gaze - he had all the marks of someone oblivious to the everything but his own thoughts. Blair used the quiet moment and tried to marshal his feelings about the bizarre events of the night. Okay, let’s have a recap. Where exactly did this camping trip evolve to or devolve, depending how one looks at it, to this? We got on a plane. I had a panic attack. Jim talked me through it until we were down. We got off the plane. We left Bozeman. Nope. Nothing in all that time gave any indication of the weirdness I’ve just encountered. What happened? Is he playing with my head? Why would he want to try and be me? It couldn’t be because he wants cheap labor to help him with the woodwork, could it? He gave up trying to analyze Jim’s strange behavior concentrating on driving on the narrow dirt road as it climbed and disappeared into the mountains.

Jim rode shotgun, trying to watch for deer or any other animals that might dart onto the road. How easy this would be if I could only turn up my night vision, but a deal is a deal. What on earth possessed me to do this? Oh well, I agreed to it, but where do I start? It should be with the obvious. So what is obvious about Sandburg? He talks a lot. Jim struggled with thoughts about Blair. Great. I’ve shared my home and my job with him for over two years and all I can come up with is that he talks a lot. Jim gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. So much for the trained detective.

Blair watched the shadows stretch and deepen the further they drove into the canyon. "Man, can you feel it?"

The words startled Jim out of his reverie. "What?"

"You know, the Native Americans say this area is sacred ground." He slowed the truck to a stop, rolled down his window, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Close your eyes, inhale with every part of your body. Open your mind. You can almost feel a presence."

Jim inhaled as instructed. He turned toward Sandburg, intending to speak, when Blair continued without opening his eyes. "Naomi used to do this. She could find something almost spiritual in any given moment. That’s my mom. Always seeking enlightenment."

Part of the reason Blair had stopped was to enjoy the beauty of the cool spring night. The other was to help his friend. He could tell Jim had been struggling and had thought it would be an opportune time to provide a Naomi-like moment.

Jim closed his mouth. He relaxed into his seat and tried to be ‘open’. Instead, his mind played with the piece of the Blair-puzzle he had been given. Now, where does it fit?

Satisfied that he’d given Jim a clue, he started the truck and drove down the road.

A little over a half an hour later, Blair pulled over to the side of the road. His voice broke into Jim’s contemplative silence. "Well, this is it."

Jim sat up a little straighter and looked around. "This is what?"

"Where we’re spending the night. It’s almost midnight. Let’s just unroll our bags here and get a little sleep?"

"Here? Do you know where we are?"

"Not really, but it’s no big deal. Sometimes one must act in the here and now, accepting the things that one has found. And I’ve found our camp for the night."

Jim had sort of forgotten what Sandburg’s role was in this little play. What on earth did he just say? How am I supposed to respond if I didn’t understand it? When in doubt, just shrug the shoulders and say, "Sure. Where should we put up the tent?"

"Seems like a lot of effort for a few hours sleep. Why don’t we just throw the bags in the back and sleep in there?" Blair tossed the keys to Jim. "Why don’t you unlock the back. I’ll find the flashlight." Jim nodded and got out of the truck. Once Jim was out of sight, Blair cradled his wrist and laid his head on the steering wheel. The effort of driving on the rocky dirt road had taken its toll on his wrist. Painful twinges had turned into constant throbbing. The last thing he wanted to do was put up a tent.

"Hey Sandburg! Did you find the light?"

With a sigh he pulled himself upright. He gave a half hearted grin. He’s learning. At least he didn’t come searching for me. Leaning over, he found the flashlight in the glove compartment. "I’m coming." He slid out of the truck and went back to help Jim.

Jim looked at Blair. He didn’t need sentinel eyes to see the exhaustion lurking behind the tired grin.

"I’ll haul the stuff to the front, Chief."

Once outside the truck Blair shivered, the night had turned cold. "Wait a minute, I need to get something." He opened his pack and pulled out a pair of sweats. He handed the pack to Jim to stash up front. Climbing into the back, he rolled out both of their bags. Then he stripped off his clothes and tugged on the sweats. The cold gave him incentive to crawl into his sleeping bag as fast as possible.

Jim climbed into the back of the truck and closed the tail gate behind him. Blair turned on his left side, then his right. After flopping on his stomach he gave up and rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling of the rented Cherokee. It seemed hopeless, any position he tried made his wrist ache. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much if he didn’t think about it. He could hear Jim rustling about as he prepared to crawl in his bag.

"You get some points for trying to be me, but you missed a few things." Jim quit moving. Oh boy, that stopped him. He continued. "Hey man, don’t let it bother you. It was your first time trying to think like me." The only sound he heard was Jim sliding into his sleeping bag. Blair yawned, not worried by his partner’s lack of response. "If you want, we can forget this whole thing." The pain was finally letting up and he gave another huge yawn. "Not everyone can role play."

Jim lay awake listening to Blair’s breathing deepen, his friend was asleep. However, sleep eluded him. He puzzled over the strange turn their vacation had taken. Do I continue or just pretend it didn’t happen? What would Blair expect in the morning? After that last shot, he’d expect me to act as if none of this happened. It might be interesting to watch his reaction if I continue. He smiled into the night. Who am I kidding? I’m going to enjoy messing with his head. With that thought, Jim closed his eyes and slept.

Morning came with the sound of light rain on the roof of the Cherokee. Even with his hearing turned down the drizzling sound had awakened Jim about 15 minutes ago. He glanced at his watch, 6:20. About time to get up. Wait a minute, would Blair crawl out of bed at this hour? Shaking his head, he rolled over and tried to sleep a little longer. Even with his hearing turned down, the patter of rain sounded more like impatient drumming fingers. Jim gave up. If I’m up, the kid’s getting up too.

"Blair," said Jim as he nudged his partner in the shoulder.

"Mmmuph" was the reply from the head of hair.

"Sandburg." Jim pushed harder against the kid’s shoulder.

"Mmmuuph" Blair pulled away from the whatever was annoying him.

Jim realized that politeness wouldn’t get his friend vertical. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and pulled on his clothes. Looking outside, he saw the rain falling at an angle. Bracing himself Jim opened the back to its widest and let the cold mountain rain blow in.

"Hey! What! Wait a minute..." The head on the pillow had come awake and with it was a body bolted upright. His eyes wide open. Reaching out he grabbed the sweater he wore yesterday and jerked it over his head. "Shut it! Shut it! It’s freezing!" He gasped out the words and tried to duck his head down into his bag.

"Rise and shine!" Flashing the unhappy anthropologist his brightest smile, Jim reached over and tugged at Blair’s bag. "Which one of us is making breakfast?" He ignored the glare that Blair threw in his direction. "Or do you want to flip for it?"

"What? Give me a minute, man." Blair reached out an arm and pulled his pants into the bag. He wasn’t going to give up precious body heat.

Jim couldn’t help laughing as he watched Blair struggle to get dressed. "Come on, Sandburg, get a move on. It’s not that cold out."

Blair wrapped his bag tighter. "Hey, to you anything above zero is balmy." He snaked out an arm and tugged at Jim’s bag. He began pulling it over his own when Jim grabbed an edge.

"Sorry, Darwin, it’s time to get up."

"Jim...." he began when the weather caught his attention. "Hey, it’s raining! When did that start?’

"A little while ago. So who’s making breakfast?" Jim turned away and began rolling up his sleeping bag.

Blair flexed his wrist, it hurt but not like last night. Still, he decided that it would be better to take it a little easy. "Let’s see, I did the driving last night, so you get to cook."

Jim nodded and crawled out of the Cherokee. "It’s going to be a cold breakfast this morning." He walked around to the front and opened the door.

"Hey Jim, what’s with the rain? I thought we came to Montana for some fun and sun."

Jim rummaged through their packs for breakfast and eating utensils. Blair’s question was a perfect opening to give him a taste of his own lectures. "Montana can be fairly hot and dry starting in late June into maybe September. However, it has rained into early August especially here in the western part of the state. The eastern side of Montana is usually very hot and dry. They tend to get very little moisture in the summer. Right now, temperatures can range from high 70’s to below freezing depending on the altitude. The cold nights help keep the snowpack from melting too soon. This time of year, we might see some rain or even snow if it’s cold enough. That’s why I told you to bring along rain gear and warm clothes. Anyway, as I was saying...."

"Enough already, I get the picture." Jim turned around and saw Blair waving his hands in surrender. "That still doesn’t explain why we came now instead of waiting for warmer weather."

"A friend of mine from my ranger days lives here. He’s gone for a couple of weeks and said we could use his place. His land borders the national forest. I thought we could park there and then hike into the back country."

"Have you been hiking up there before?"

"No, but I’ve got a pretty detailed map. It’s up front in the truck. Why don’t you check it out while I put something together for breakfast?" Jim made breakfast while Blair studied the map. After they finished eating, they packed their gear in the back of the truck.

"Hey Sandburg, do you want to drive?"

He shook his head. "No. I’ve never been to Montana and I’d rather check out the scenery."

Jim shrugged. "Have it your way. I just don’t want you thinking I had to be in control." He walked around the truck and got in before Blair could think of a response.

The wheels slipped a little as Jim started to back out onto the road. "Ya know Chief, if we get stuck, you’re pushing."

Blair held up his hands. "No way man, this trip was your idea. I’m just along for the ride."

Jim put more pressure on the gas pedal and they were free.

The sun tried to break through the drizzling clouds with little success. The dirt road rapidly turned to slick mud. Watching the road Jim said, "I need a little more information if I’m going to be like you for the next forty-eight hours. Tell me more about growing up with Naomi."

"No way man, you’ll have to figure it out all by yourself, just like I did." He watched with delight, the struggle on Jim’s face.

Jim’s ear caught the smug sound in Blair’s voice. He thinks I can’t survive the Sandburg Zone! I’ve lived with it for over two years. I certainly can live in it for forty-eight hours.

The road twisted and turned as it climbed higher into the mountains. The landscape changed from gentle slopes to high cliffs that fell away to deep canyons. Jim’s hands tightened on the steering wheel as he fought with the muddy road. He could hear Blair’s breath catch when he saw how close they were to the edge. It was too soon for Blair after the episode on the plane last night.

"I won’t let it win," Blair’s whisper broke the silence. "I thought I had it beat." He turned slightly and faced Jim. "It’s been a few years since I’ve had any major attacks. I really thought I’d won." Blair turned away and fixed his eyes at a point on the front of the truck. "I guess the truth is that we never win. The memory of what you fear is always there. Just lurking out of sight but never out of mind." He drew a deep breath and let it out, closing his eyes, trying to meditate past the fear.

Jim remained silent. What was there to say? Everyone is afraid of something. There is no shame in fear. The only shame comes from letting it control you.

Blair tilted his head and nodded. Jim wondered if he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

"Sometimes I get so tired of fighting it for control of my life." Blair paused. "But if I don’t, it wins and whatever I’ve made of my life becomes meaningless." His hand clutched the shoulder strap across his chest. His eyes closed, he seemed to be focusing on something inside.

Jim knew the black hole he was staring into. He’d been there. When he was in Peru. He was in command, in control, then he wasn’t and everyone died. He also knew that the darkness could swallow you if you stared into it too long.

"Chief, I know why you agreed to come to Montana."

"Yeah?" came the faint response.

"Tests. You thought that by getting me alone in the back country I would be a captive subject and you could conduct tests." Jim could see Blair start to smile.

"Yeah, that’s pretty much it. I guess that’s out of the question now."

"Not really, in fact we could start something now."

Blair threw a surprised look at Jim. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." Jim was glad to see something besides that strained expression on his partner’s face.

Blair turned around in his seat and started pulling a notebook out of his backpack. Stopping, he looked at Jim. "Thanks." Turning his attention back to his pack he continued to rummage through it. He found his pen. "Okay, since you’re driving we’ll start with some questions."

Blair managed to maintain his equilibrium thanks to Jim’s willingness to answer question after question. After a little more than an hour, they arrived at the turn leading up to the house. Jim could only stare at the sight ahead of him. Blair managed a weak laugh. The house was indeed situated on the edge of a cliff.

The approach to the back of the home was a steady incline cut into the side of the mountain and the right side dropped away abruptly from the road. The driveway led to the garage which was attached to the back of the house. Jim parked the truck outside the garage and flipped through his key ring searching for the key to the house. Blair just sat quietly beside him. His lips were moving but Jim had to strain his hearing to hear Blair whisper, "There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home."

Blair felt Jim’s scrutiny. He opened his eyes and gave a tight smile. "Man, I knew I forgot something on this trip."

"What?"

"Ruby Red hiking boots, you know, the kind that when you click the heels, you end up back home."

At least Blair managed to retain his sense of humor. Jim asked, "Are you ready to go in?"

"Why don’t you go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute. I just need to clear my head."

Jim found the key and left the truck. He opened the garage door and walked through it to the connecting door to the house. The kitchen had a window above the sink that looked out on the meadow that sloped down from the home. He wandered through the first floor noting that every room but the kitchen had large plate glass windows that afforded a 180 degree view of the tree covered canyon.

Back in the kitchen, he found a note from his friend Matt. ‘Theresa and I are in Barbados for the next 4 weeks. The house is yours for as long as you want. The phone is out of service. Someone dug a trench and tore up the line. It’ll be a week or so before it’s up and running. Sorry. Freezer’s stocked, help yourself. Have a great time. Theresa and Matt’.

Jim heard a noise behind him. Blair came into the room, looking about appreciatively. "Wow, nice kitchen." Walking through the room, he gasped at the glass enclosed dining room then turned around. "Wow, nice kitchen," he repeated.

"I hate to tell you this but the rest of the house is just like the dining room, almost wall to wall plate glass."

Ignoring Jim’s comment, Blair grabbed the map out of Jim’s jacket. Unfolding it, he laid it out "So what’s the plan?"

Jim had been waiting for anything, anything that is but this. "What?"

"I’m just curious. Now that we’re here, what’s next? It’s only 9:00. Do you want to start the trek in now or wait until a little later this morning?"

"Don’t you think we should stay here tonight instead of camping out? Especially after, well....Don’t you think you should take it easy for a while?"

"What, the panic attack? Hey man, don’t you see?" Blair searched his face for something, whatever it was, Jim felt that he’d come up lacking. "You said you wanted to try to be like me for forty-eight hours. Well, part of being like me means not sitting around dwelling on the past." He turned away and bent over the map.

Jim could only stare at the back of Blair’s head. You were a basket case less than twenty four hours ago. You just want to jump up and pretend it didn’t happen?!? Even as he opened his mouth ready to lecture the kid on good sense, he stopped. The thought passed through his mind that maybe he didn’t know his friend as well as he thought. Kid, you should have been a magician. You reveal nothing yet manage to convince the audience they see everything.

Jim decided that if Blair was ready, then he was ready. He bent over the map with Blair and together they outlined their trek.

They filled up the canteens with water, saving the water purification tablets for later.

The drizzle had started again by the time they set out. Jim was tempted to ask Blair if this was such a good idea but held his tongue. Apparently being Blair-like meant seeking adventure, not waiting for it to happen. They began the hike down the grassy slope that Jim had seen out the kitchen window. The silence was broken only by their boots squeaking as they slid down the wet grass. The curve of the meadow lead them to a fast running creek at the bottom of the canyon.

They followed the creek for a couple of hours, then broke for lunch. They escaped the rain by huddling under a tall thick branched pine tree. Blair watch the water rush by as they ate. "Man, that water is moving fast. Are we going to cross it?"

"Yeah, the rain must be causing the snow pack to melt pretty fast." He pulled the map from his backpack. "The map shows a bridge about another couple of miles up. Once we get there we’ll decide whether to cross and then depending on the weather, we can..."

Blair grabbed the map out of Jim’s hands. "Give me the map! You still haven’t gotten the hang of being me. You can’t stop planning so far ahead! I’ll bet you’ve already decided where we’re camping tonight." Jim didn’t want to lose the bet so he kept his mouth shut. "I’ll give you another chance. Let’s go."

A few miles later they came upon the bridge. Blair gawked. It was a conglomeration of logs. Most had dropped into the water, some were still hanging onto the embankment on the other side. The few that still crossed the river were pierced by rotted out holes. "They call that a bridge? No way are we crossing that thing!" Jim agreed and they continued trekking for another hour and a half.

The fast running creek was turning into a raging torrent, pouring over the large boulders in its way. Blair stopped and adjusted his pack. He looked back at Jim. "Isn’t this incredible! Right now I envy your sense of hearing. Hearing the sound of the water as it crashes over each rock and is carried along with the rush. It’s gotta be like being a part of the water." Blair stood there for a few moments lost in the sound.

He became conscious of Jim standing beside him. Opening his eyes, he looked at his friend. "Sorry about that, man. I forgot you turned your hearing down." He grinned. "If you want, turn it up. I’ll let you get away with it this once."

"Nah." He slapped Blair on the arm. "A bet is a bet. Come on, let’s go."

Blair didn’t move. "Jim, what do you think about camping here? I mean, do you think your hearing could handle the sound?"

"I’ve got my hearing turned down to normal so it shouldn’t be a problem. There’s a relatively flat spot over there. It looks like it’s far enough from the river in case some of the snow melt causes it to rise. We can pitch the tent under those trees."

Jim helped Blair take off his pack. "Do you want to try and find some firewood while I set up camp?"

"Sure" replied Blair. "It may take awhile to find something dry. I’ll be back in about 20 minutes."

By the time Blair arrived with the dry wood, Jim had camp set up and dug a small fire pit. "Man, it’s cold. I’m sleeping in my sweats tonight. Hey Jim, where did you put the matches? I’ll start the fire."

Jim pulled the matches from his shirt pocket and tossed the waterproof pack to Blair.

After a few tries, the fire finally caught. They ate and talked. Soon conversation surrendered to the peaceful surroundings.

They cleaned up the camp and stored the food in Jim’s pack. Opening a side pocket of the pack, Jim pulled out a rope and dropped the matches in the pocket. "I’m going to stash this in one of the trees for the night. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with bears, but it’s better to be safe." Blair nodded and rummaged through his own pack for his sweats. Jim walked to a tree a little way behind their camp. Tying the rope to the pack frame, he threw the rope over a high branch and hoisted it into the air.

They decided to call it an early night. Jim zipped the tent shut. Blair had already curled into his sleeping bag. He managed to mumble "G’night." And he was asleep. Jim pulled off his clothes and tucked his watch into his shoes. Under normal circumstances, he would have dialed down the cold and slept in his long underwear. However these weren’t normal circumstances. He’d promised he wouldn’t use his senses to turn the dials down and as a result the night seemed cold even for him. He pulled on his sweats and crawled into his bag.

Jim lay awake thinking about what lay ahead tomorrow when he stopped himself. Blair wouldn’t get caught up in tomorrow anymore than he hangs onto the past. Tomorrow will take care of itself. See Blair, you’ve rubbed off on me, a little. He turned onto his side and tried to sleep. The pounding of the water was keeping him awake. After several minutes, Jim gave up and turned the dial connected with his hearing below normal. When the water was nothing but a faint murmur, he slept.

Outside, the drizzle turned into rain.

Blair had to go and had to go now. But the bag was so warm. But he had to go. No, he’d wait a few minutes more. Finally he couldn’t wait anymore. He shivered and fumbled for his shoes. Yanking them on, he didn’t bother to tie the laces. The sleeping bag called his name, but the strong childhood training forced him to sneak toward the tent door.

"mmChief?" mumbled Jim.

"It’s okay Jim, that last cup of cocoa got to me. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes." If I don’t freeze to a tree while I’m out there.

Blair unzipped the tent, stood up and stepped out....into very wet, very cold, moving water. His eyes flew open, he looked down and then looked over at the creek. Except it wasn’t much of a creek. It was more like a river, a rapidly rising river from the looks of it. "Jim, Jim, wake up, you’ve got to get up." He heard a roaring from up the canyon, at the same time he could hear Jim "Chief, what’s going on?" Blair turned in the direction of the sound. "JIM, get out of there!"

Water poured down the canyon, the force knocked Blair off his feet. "Flash flood!" He tried to yell, but ended up with a mouthful of dirty water. He banged up against a tree. Throwing his arms around it, he searched for the tent. The tent, where was the tent? "JIM! JIM!" Blair’s words were swallowed up by the roaring water.

Watery hands tore at his clothes, pulled at his body, trying to rip his grasp from around the tree. Wildly looking around, he struggled to see Jim, the tent, anything from their camp. The pain in Blair’s wrist caused his grip to loosen and the force of the water wrenched him away, sweeping him down the river.

Jim had barely gotten out of his sleeping bag when the water hit, knocking the tent down and pinning him inside. Jim struggled to free himself from the collapsed tent. He could hear Blair choking on water, calling his name. He tried to call out to Blair, but his voice couldn’t be heard above the thundering flood. The tent wrapped itself around him and dragged him under the river. Jim clawed at the material, fighting to find the tent opening.

Don’t panic, feel for the opening. Jim could sense the tent rushing downstream. Then, with a sickening sound, Jim slammed into a group of rocks. Pain radiated down his back and into his legs. For a moment, Jim forgot everything but the agony in his back until the pain in his lungs took precedence. As Jim searched for the opening, he realized he had stopped moving. Taking advantage of the brief respite, he ran his hands inside his cloth coffin feeling for freedom. Finding the opening, he pulled the clinging material away, letting the current pull the tent from him. The movement cost him as pain streaked across his back, leaving him gasping for air. He tried to turn the pain dials down. Nothing worked. "Blair!" The cry burst from his mouth. As he twisted his body to scan the opposite shore, another spasm of pain radiated through his back. A low moan escaped between clenched teeth. Buffeted by the cold water, Jim’s strength was waning. He had to get out of the water soon.

Jim considered his options: stay huddled in his little crevice until the water slowed then swim to shore, or try to swim towards the shore now. Blair could be hurt or dead. If he was hurt, Blair would need him. If Blair was dead....well then Jim needed to take his body home. Jim eyed the distance to the shore where they had camped. If he pushed far enough into the water the current might take him toward the logjam. A strong swimmer, Jim decided to try for shore.

Despite the pain Jim pulled his feet up toward his body and prepared to push off into the water. He glanced upstream too late to avoid a large tree rushing toward him. The tree slammed Jim back into the rocks smashing his head against the boulder. Half conscious, he twisted his left arm into a tangle of the branches hoping it would be enough to keep him from drowning. The last thing he felt was the tree tugging him downstream.

Thoughts raced through Blair’s mind as the water swept him along its path. A memory from his many rafting trips flashed through his mind. Blair quit fighting the current, rolled to his back and pointed his toes downstream. Bouncing off boulders and downed trees, each shock and blow took a little more out of him. His eyes searched the shoreline for something, anything to stop this wild roller coaster ride.

The bridge they had dismissed earlier that day rushed into view. Blair frantically eyed the fallen wood, they were his only chance. If the current carried him to the opposite side, he should be near enough to grab something, at least that was what he hoped. As Blair closed in on the fallen bridge, he reached out to grab the slick wood. He would only have one shot. Pressing his left hand on one of the slippery logs, he twisted his body, made a fist, and threw his right hand into a ‘V’ formed by two logs. His right wrist screamed in agony when his left hand slipped off the wood, leaving him dangling by only his clenched fist. Blair hung there exhausted, wanting to let go but knowing if he relaxed his hand Jim would be fishing his body out of the river.

JIM He had to get out and find Jim. Blair’s feet scrambled for a purchase in the pile of fallen timber. Finding a solid place for his feet, he reached up with his left hand and found a secure handhold. Letting his feet and left hand take his weight, Blair eased his right hand out of the notch. Relief was tempered by exquisite pain as he let his arm drop to his side. Blair wondered if his shoulder was separated. He moved the shoulder gingerly and decided although painful, it wasn’t separated.

Using his left arm for balance, Blair sidestepped his way up the wood to the edge. Fatigued, near the top he slipped, and fell. He threw both arms around the log and slipped to the underside. Only the thought that Jim needed him kept his arms locked around the trunk. He forced his way to the topside of the timber repeating I’ve got to find Jim. He needs me. Hugging the log, Blair squirmed his way to the top, thank God, the top. Heaving his body over the edge, he collapsed.

Rolling over to his back he lay there, his mind as numb as his body. The ‘real’ world forced its way into Blair’s consciousness. The cold drizzle falling on his face and the colder mud underneath him roused him from his stupor. Come on Chief, get up, you’ve got to get up "No way man, it’s too early, I just want to lie here a little longer, then I’ll get up." BLAIR! His eyes snapped open - Jim’s voice. Blair struggled to sit upright. "Jim, Jim, where are you man?" Blair called into the darkness. No answer. "I’m coming Jim, hang on," he yelled above the booming water. "I’ve got to find Jim. He needs me," he mumbled. Painfully, he rolled onto his knees. Using both arms he tried to push himself up only to fall when his right arm collapsed. Blair landed face first in the mud, his world narrowed to only pain and cold. Forcing himself up a few inches with his left arm, he looked about for something to help him stand. Crawling his way through the mud, to a group of rocks Blair hauled himself up with his left hand. Pull, stop and rest; pull, stop and rest; pull, until he was upright leaning against the rocks.

"I’m vertical, now what?" His voice was lost in the sound of the water. Great, I’m talking to myself. Blair was grateful that at least the rain had stopped. The beginnings of a false dawn edged the tops of the mountains. Daylight isn’t too far away. I’ve got to start looking. He pushed away from the rocks and looked up and down the river. Shaking his head he whispered, "Where do I start?" The terrain was too steep to get very far on this side. The only possibility lay before him. By getting across the bridge.

Slowly, he staggered toward the bridge, the mud squishing through his bare toes. Blair stopped and stared down at his feet. The flood had ripped his shoes off his feet, but the rest of his clothing survived more or less intact. There was nothing that he could do about it or the fact he was starting to shiver from the cold so Blair continued toward the bridge.

Butterfly beginnings of panic quivered in his stomach as Blair stared at the boiling water and the bridge. The ‘bridge’ if it could be called that, was hardly three feet at its widest. Wood had rotted through in spots exposing the rushing water less than a foot below. He needed something to focus on, rather than the surging torrent below. He couldn’t think of anything except the fact that Jim needed him. Clutching the thought close, he shuffled to the edge of the bridge.

Blair focused on his feet, he never looked farther than the next step. Each step was the same. He felt ahead with his toes, gradually adding his weight as he put his foot down. After he was sure the area would hold, he repeated the same process with the other foot. Inch by inch, step by step Blair labored across the bridge. Two thirds of the way, Blair stepped down and felt the rotting wood give way. As his left leg went down the hole, Blair threw his body forward scrambling for a handhold. His flailing hands caught the edge of another hole and he pulled himself to a more solid section of the bridge. Gasping for breath, he lay there for a few minutes, feeling the pulled muscles add their voice to the litany of pain in his body.

Shoving the soaked hair out of his eyes, Blair lifted his head. It was maybe eight feet to the edge. Eight feet too far. His head sagged down onto the bridge. The roaring water reverberated beneath him. He had to get moving, but it felt so good to lie here. From his position on the bridge, Blair could see a short distance upstream. Something pale swept under the bridge. The tent. Thinking Jim might still be in the tent, Blair found a reserve of strength and sidled across the bridge. Bracing himself against a stump, Blair pulled himself upright and staggered to the water’s edge. "JIM, JIM can you hear me?" No response. Dawn broke into the canyon, pushing back the darkness. The tent was caught in the fallen wood from the bridge, close enough for him to reach. Blair found a stout branch and prodded the tent. Relief flooded through Blair. He leaned against the branch and lay his head on his arms. Nothing but cloth.

At least Jim had gotten out of the tent. Blair allowed himself a glimmer of hope. Until he realized the empty tent didn’t mean anything. Jim may have gotten out of the tent but that didn’t guarantee he was still alive. Blair stood up a little straighter. It didn’t matter if Jim was dead or alive, Blair would not leave the canyon without his friend.

Where to start? Upstream or down? He turned the question over in his head. Upstream, he’d begin at their campsite. If for no other reason than to check if the tree that Jim hoisted their food in was still standing. He started forward, only the stick he clung to kept him from falling on his face. Looking closer at his leg, he found deep scratches and the beginning of a nasty bruise on his upper thigh. His wrist ached, he discovered gouges where he’d jammed it into the crack on the bridge. Knowing he couldn’t do anything for the pain, he pushed it away with his concern for Jim. Once more with halting steps, he started upstream.

Blair began to snicker. If Jim could see him now. He looked like something out of one of those ‘Mummy’ movies. All he needed were a few strips of linen draped around him. Maybe moss would do or wood bark, yeah, wood bark, like from aspen trees. He pulled his roaming thoughts up short. Whoa, you’re losing it. Get a grip, man. Jim needs you.

Shaking his head to clear the errant thoughts, he looked back to see how far he had come. He slammed the makeshift cane into the mud. Damn He could still see the bridge. Yesterday, it had taken them an hour and a half to get to the campsite. At this rate he would be lucky to make it in two and a half hours. If Jim wasn’t dead now, he might be by the time Blair found him. His promise not to leave without Jim was the only thing that made him turn around and take the next step, and the next and the one after that.

His eyes flitted back and forth as he traveled along the river’s edge. Now that the water had quit rising, he would wade into slow shallow water to prod and poke log jams for any sign of Jim. Each disappointment made the faint hope he carried flicker, until it sputtered out. Hope died, but friendship and duty lived. It became automatic, move forward a few steps, stop, scan the water, push at fallen timber then move on. He’d never envied the Sentinel until this moment, as he strained to see or hear something that would lead him to Jim.

Blair stopped for a few moments and slumped against a tree. He had to rest. He slid down to sit at the base. Pulling his legs up toward his chest, he let his head droop forward. "I am never leaving the loft again. Never, never, never, I’ll just phone my lectures in and become a hermit." Leaning his head back, he inhaled deeply through his nose and let the air slowly out of his mouth, trying to center his thoughts and arrange the past days’ events into some kind of coherent order.

Blair’s head fell forward. He jerked it upright, appalled that he had almost fallen asleep. Struggling to his feet, he started searching again. Had he checked that huge jam of trees? Blair couldn’t remember, so he hobbled to the water. The water had receded somewhat, so he inched forward, wading into the shallows of the muddy water. He shivered as the cold water rose just above his ankles. Mud and debris squished beneath his feet. Reaching over, he pulled off a few loose branches and tossed them aside. It was so hard to see anything in this shadowy early morning light. Nothing here, he had to move on; the campsite couldn’t be too far from here.

Blair planned out his next steps. He’d check on the food cache, retrieve it if possible, then work his way down stream. Jim had to be somewhere on the river. He stepped on a large branch hidden by the murky water. It rolled beneath his feet and threw him, face first into water. He shoved himself upright, coughing and spitting water.

Angered, Blair slid around and hit the offending branch with his makeshift cane. Blair tried to climb to his feet in the slippery mud. He fell to his knees, bumping into another branch, or so he thought. As he started to get up again Blair froze. "Jim? JIM?" There it was again, faint but Blair knew he heard it. He stayed on his knees, not moving, straining to hear something other than surging water. "Ummmm." The sound came from the logjam. He crawled over to the fallen timber. "Keep talking Jim, I can hear you." The damn branch was in the way. Blair reached under the water to push it out of the way and grabbed an ankle instead. "Jim, hang in there man, I’m here." Tearing at the branches, he uncovered his friend twisted among the fallen trees.

Laying a hand on Jim’s leg, he could feel minor tremors. Although Jim dealt with cold better than Blair, a Sentinel was not a Superman. He had to get him out of the water and do it now. It wouldn’t be easy. Somehow the branches twined around him, cradling him just above the water. His left arm was tangled in the branches. The trees were too big, awkward and not to mention heavy for Blair to move on a good day, which today certainly wasn’t. Since Jim’s position and the stability of the logs was, at best, precarious Blair didn’t want to crawl onto the logjam unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Jim, can you hear me? Come on Jim you’ve gotta listen to me."

"Uuuhhhh."

"Jim, don’t fade on me. You’ve got to help me get you out of the water."

Jim didn’t make a sound. How was he going to get an unconscious man up on the riverbank? Blair continued trying to get through to the senseless man. His stomach knotted with tension. What was wrong? Why had he answered the first time? Thinking back he remembered Jim spoke only after he’d hit him with his stick. Pain stimulus? "I’m really sorry man." Blair took his stick and whapped Jim’s leg again, just hard enough to get his attention.

"Hurts."

"I know, but you gotta stay with me, I can’t get you out on my own."

"‘Kay."

"Come on Jim, stay with me. Your arm is tangled in the tree. Try to get it out."

No movement. "Jim! Move your arm!"

Blair poked at the bare leg again with his stick. "MOVE YOUR ARM!" Blair was rewarded with a barely perceptible movement. He wanted to help Jim, but he was afraid too much movement would cause the logjam to break apart and drown them both.

"That’s it Jim, come on man, keep moving. Pull your arm out of the branches."

Soft grunts of pain came as Jim slowly struggled to obey. Then he stopped. "Tired."

"I know you’re tired. I promise as soon as we get your arm loose, you can rest. But you gotta do what I tell you first." Blair continued making promises, threats; anything he could think of to get Jim to move.

"Jim?" Another poke. "Jim, tell you what. I’ll clean your truck inside and out. But ya gotta help me get you out of the water." Jim worked his arm loose little by little until it fell free by his side.

Sandburg took a few deep breaths. Now it was time for him to do his part. Shivering, he waded deeper into the cold mountain water. He was grateful that the trees had managed to pile up a distance away from the main current. The water reached his hips by the time he was in a position to try to reach for his friend. He stretched out a hand, yet he was still a foot or so short.

"Jim, you’ve got to do one more thing. Slide toward me." The big man was out again. The cold made Blair desperate. He put his left hand on the large log between them. Shoving down, he threw his body across the log. He felt the tree give way, then pop up again. Time was not on Blair’s side. Mindful that any sharp weight changes could create openings between the logs, Blair remained on his belly. Trying to keep his weight evenly distributed, he slid closer. He wrapped his hands around Jim’s right arm and tugged him backward toward the edge. "Come on Jim, you gotta help me here. You’re too heavy for me. Come one, move your feet, that’s it, now push. Great. We’re almost there." He slipped back into the cold water and towed Jim in after him.

Blair pulled Jim away from the tree toward the shoreline just a couple of feet behind him. He groped his way backwards until he fell, taking Jim’s upper body with him. The heavier man landed on top of Blair’s already bruised leg. "Oh man," he groaned, pushing Jim away enough to roll out from underneath. Easing Jim back down, he dropped into the mud, panting with exertion. Tired almost beyond conscious thought, Blair was tempted to just lay there. But if he did, chances were they’d never move again. Hypothermia was lurking in the shadows of the cool morning, so he had to do something now. Blair dragged himself to his knees. Jim was out of the water, but he wasn’t out of the woods.

"Hey man, you did it." Blair rambled on about nothing in particular while he checked his friend out. In the growing light, he caught his first real look at Jim. For a moment he couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He just stared at the left side of Jim’s head. Blood had clotted around a large gash starting low in front of his ear and running up into his hairline. His left eye was black, blue and swollen almost shut. Scratches from the trees and the branches covered his face and almost every exposed part of Jim’s body.

Where do I start? Paralyzed, Blair knelt there, waiting for something, anything. Angry at his own hesitation, Blair berated himself. Sandburg, get a grip. Jim’ll die if you don’t get it together. Blair reached out his hand, then pulled it back. What if I do something and he dies? He’ll die if you don’t! The thought of Jim dying jump started Blair’s mind into functioning again.

ABC’s. Airway, Breathing, Circulation, the basics of first-aid. How could I have spaced that out? Since working with Jim, First-aid had become second nature to him. Except this time....This time he was working on his best friend. Shaking hands checked Jim’s airway and breathing, no immediate problem, but if he had any water in his lungs, well, that would be something to watch for later. Working his way down from Jim’s head, Blair examined him for other injuries.

For the second time since they started this trip, he wished he had Jim’s senses. Then he could feel something as minute as a fracture, as it was he could only be sure of the glaring injuries. Checking the various cuts and bruises, he decided none of them were life threatening. Tearing off a part of his pullover, Blair dabbed at the deep wound. Satisfied he ripped another piece and made a compress of sorts. Tying it in place, Blair checked his handiwork. Okay, so it wasn’t as clean as in a hospital but it would do until they got to one. He finished tending to the various scrapes and scratches when he noted the shallow breathing, and a weak, rapid pulse, symptoms of shock. Even if Jim’s physical injuries were not immediately life threatening, shock could kill.

Blair considered his next move. Since shock was potentially life threatening, it was important to get Jim dry and warm. His leg protested as he rocked back on his knees. Rational thought drained from his mind. DRY? Even though the rain had stopped, Blair wanted to yell. How am I supposed to get him warm and dry if we’re in the middle of a damn Montana Rain Forest?

He struck the mud in frustration. "I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired. I can’t do this alone." The dark muddy hair fell forward as his head sagged on his chest. The wind sighed through the trees. Mocking voices whispered <Jim wouldn’t quit on you. He wouldn’t be too tired. He’d find some way. He wouldn’t let you die.> Blair reached out a hand and touched Jim’s shoulder. "I’m sorry." His hand slid away, hanging limp at his side. "I just can’t."

A hand brushed Blair’s thigh and fell back in the mud. Jim’s lips were moving. Blair leaned close to his mouth. "What? Say it again Jim."

"Nnnot alone."

There he had said it. Duty done, Jim retreated into the healing darkness.

Blair placed his hand on his friend’s chest. If only for the life of this man, he would continue a little longer. A deep sigh escaped, he closed his eyes. What I wouldn’t give for warm clothes, an ambulance, and food. A line from a childhood poem drifted across his mind. ‘If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.’ At least with a horse they’d have a chance.

He opened his eyes and prioritized their needs. Okay, what’s first? Shelter, then trek to find the backpack, if it was still there, the matches would be in one of the pockets. The sun was shining but its warmth was just starting to creep into the valley. Looking up at the sky, Blair could see they might get more rain later that day. He’d have to hustle to pull a shelter before the rain hit. Blair got to his feet and swayed as a wave of lightheadedness hit him. His body was rebelling, crying out for rest and food. By a force of will, he pushed everything into the back of his mind, focusing only on finding shelter, food and warmth.

Blair felt the pockets of his sweats. His knife and watch had been in the pocket of his jeans, both were probably several miles down the river. He looked at the fir trees and decided that he could break off some of the smaller branches. Hobbling over to the nearest pine tree, he grabbed a lower branch and began twisting.

It took longer than expected. By the time he was through, he was convinced that he’d never be able to use his left arm again. The throbbing ache started at the tips of his fingers and pulsed up into his neck muscles. He shook as much of the water as possible off the branches and laid them down in a sunny spot near Jim. There was enough to act as a barrier between Jim and the mud and provide some coverage.

He took a deep breath. Now for the tough part. "Jim, Jim, can you hear me?" Nothing. "Wake up, just for a few minutes that’s all I need." Still nothing. Blair found a bruised spot on Jim’s hand and pushed.

"Uuhhh"

"Come on Jim, wake up. I need your help. Just one more time." He pressed again. This time Jim tried to move away from the pain. Then Jim’s good eye opened.

"Jim!" Blair grinned.

The eye that gazed at Blair only blinked.

Blair was startled by the blankness he saw in the glazed blue eye. Jim’s eyes could be icy, or warm or even electric, but they were never flat. Blair shook himself. Worry about it later. Right now just worry about getting him to move.

"Can you get up?" Blair put his hand on Jim’s arm. "How about I help you? We don’t have to go far just a few feet." Jim gave a weak tug and tried to pull his arm away.

"Hurts. Cold. Tired." The words stumbled out.

"I know, but you if you make it to the bed over there, I promise you’ll be warm and you can sleep." Under his breath he muttered, "Except for the fact I’ll be waking you up every few hours."

Jim looked over to the boughs, then he nodded. Planting his branch cane in the mud near Jim’s hip, Blair knelt behind his shoulder. Using his entire body, he pushed Jim up. That’s as far as he got. Blair resorted to begging. "Please, I can’t do this alone. I promise you’ll be able to rest once we get there. Come on, Jim, please. I need your help."

Something in the voice pierced the painful fog surrounding Jim. Someone needed him. He stirred and started to get up. Pain rushed through his body. It was too much, with a groan he started to fall back, but something solid stopped him. He heard the voice "No, Jim, don’t-." Then the unmistakable sound of someone in agony. "Get off. Please, Jim, you’re hurting me." He allowed himself to be pushed forward. His own torment increased, darkness crept in toward the edges of his awareness, but something in the monologue buzzing in his ear kept him from succumbing to it.

Blair alternately praised and scolded Jim until he was standing, wobbly, but standing nonetheless. Blair grabbed his stick, leaning heavily on it, he pulled Jim’s right arm over his shoulder. "Lean on me, Jim. Just put one foot in front of the other. Let’s go." Jim wasn’t moving. "Move your left foot, Jim. That’s right. Now your right. Good." Blair coaxed each step from Jim. It was only a few feet, but by the time they reached Jim’s makeshift bed, Blair was sinking under Jim’s weight. Blair tried to move away as they started to teeter. He yelped when Jim fell on top of him.

Gasping, he pleaded with Jim to move. With his last conscious movement, Jim pushed himself away. As he moved, his elbow rolled on Blair’s injured wrist. Blair pushed Jim off and rolled off the pine boughs, into the mud. Nothing existed anymore except agony flooding through his arm. Breathing hard, he tried to focus his thoughts away from his bruised arm. I hit you, you fall on me. I guess that makes us even. A silly thought, but it kept him from screaming.

Blair struggled to his knees. "Now you can sleep. The extra branches should help keep you warm." He continued to ramble about the weather, the loft, and anything else that entered his mind. Blair had read somewhere that people often heard what’s said to them, even if they’re unconscious. He wanted Jim to know he wasn’t alone.

The warmth of the sun felt so good. Blair stopped for a moment, stretching a little, trying to relax knotted muscles. Heat seeped into his body. In those few moments, his guard was down and shock roared in. Out of nowhere, a chill grabbed hold of his body and Blair began shaking. The flood, the cold, pain, worry and lack of sleep had caught up with him.

The backpack with food was maybe 20 minutes away. It was 20 minutes too far. His world started to collapse inward. Trembling hands pushed aside some boughs and he crawled beside Jim. Their combined body heat may not make things better, but it couldn’t make it any worse. Just a few minutes, then I’ll go find the food and work on a shelter. Blair covered the two of them with branches. Just a few minutes that’s all, just a few min.... His shaking slowed, stopped and he slept.

The dark current released its hold and he bobbed on the surface. Sometimes he broke through the darkness, sometimes he sank below it. He needed something to grab onto to keep him afloat. There, that sound, rhythmic and steady, focusing on it he rose to the surface. He struggled to open his eyes. The world was fuzzy and off kilter. It required too much effort to keep them open for long. He drifted off into the darkness once again.

The regular throbbing sound pulled him upward. He opened his good eye and slammed it shut. The light was too intense. Squinting, he managed to open his eye again, it was still bright but it was manageable. Everything seemed blurry and what he could see seemed off balance somehow. The sound caught his attention again. He turned his head to locate its source and regretted it. A low moan escaped, his head pounded with every beat of his pulse. He pulled his hands up to his head, intent on preventing the explosion that seemed imminent. What happened? Before he could start to answer his own question, his mind was slammed with smells he couldn’t recognize, thousands of pins stabbing him from every side and intense heat burning against his back. He jerked away from the flame behind him. Pain streaked across his hips, stopping him from doing more than rolling a few feet away.

Jim’s sudden movement jolted Sandburg awake. "Hey? What? Jim?" Thinking his friend was suffering a flashback from the flood, Blair forced himself up and reached out.

Jim slipped in the drying mud as he reeled away from the outstretched hand. Landing hard on his hip left him gasping and grabbing at his back. The debilitating of pain stopped him from going any further. "No."

"Wait a minute, Jim...." Confused by Jim’s reaction, Blair reached out again.

"No!" Jim made a feeble attempt to scrabble further away.

Something in Jim’s voice made his stomach twist. Blair dropped his hand to the ground. It was something he’d never heard before. Something he never thought he would hear. Stark, naked, fear. "Chill man, I’m just going to sit here." He settled back down on the pine boughs with slow, deliberate movements.

They sat there in tense silence. Jim slogged through the haze of pain trying to clear his mind. Blair sifted through his memory for something useful. Come on Sandburg, where is that odd piece of information that you’re famous for in tough situations? He came up dry, nothing, absolutely nothing. Frustrated, he wanted to vent some of his anger, but the man sitting across from him appeared like he would try to bolt at the slightest provocation. So he settled for deep breathing exercises, trying to focus his mind on what had just happened.

Jim was afraid of him. Each time he had started to speak, Jim had recoiled. He was acting like he had when they first met. The blow to the head must have caused him to lose control of his senses. Of course that was it. Blair let out a sigh of relief. Jim pulled his hands up to ears. He whispered. "Oops. Sorry man." He smiled. A little coaching and he’d be fine.

Taking another deep breath, Blair let it out quietly. Keeping his voice quiet, steady like he always did when he helped Jim find the dials. "I know what’s happening. Your senses are out of control. Just focus all your attention on my voice. Start by...." He broke off. Jim wasn’t focusing on anything. If anything, he seemed even more disconcerted.

Blair frowned. "Jim, talk to me, tell me what’s happening. I can’t help, unless you talk to me."

He waited, bracing himself for a torrent of frustration from his partner. What he wasn’t ready for, was a question.

Confusion was evident on the big man’s face as he raised an unsteady hand and pointed at himself. "Me?"

Blair gave a nervous laugh. "Come on, Jim. This isn’t the time for practical jokes." The laughter died a quick death when he saw the first hint of panic cross his friend’s face. A horrifying thought dawned on Blair. Amnesia?

The anthropologist’s mind scrambled to assimilate this new disaster. He sat staring, but not seeing the battered man huddled across from him, trying to decide what his next move should be. A moan broke into his scattered thoughts and snapped him back into the present. Jim’s eyes were scrunched up against the light, his fingers picked at the clothing that touched his body. First thing on the to-do list was to help Jim find the dials and turn them down. Blair smiled, trying to put the all of the fabled Sandburg charm into it. Jim always said it made children and women want to trust him. He hoped it would work on a half drowned man as well.

Pitching his voice low and smooth, trying to keep the inflection minimal, he started trying to guide Jim back to himself. "Your name is Jim Ellison, you’re a detective with Major Crimes in Cascade, Washington. I’m your partner, Blair Sandburg. We’re good friends." He stopped to check if anything was getting through to the detective. The picking seemed less pronounced. "Right now everything is painful. The clothes you’re wearing, the sunlight, even the sound of your own breathing. I can help you turn the pain down. Just concentrate on me. Hear nothing but my voice." Sense by sense, notch by notch Blair helped Jim find the dials and turn them down.

An hour or so later Blair stretched, feeling the vertebrae snap and crack. He was tired. It was worse than when he started working with the Sentinel. At least back then Jim knew who he was. Now he didn’t even have that. The amnesia had wiped out everything, leaving behind an echoing, empty space where Jim’s memories used to be. Together they had managed to control the rampant senses, but it was like putting a band-aid on a gaping wound, it would hold, but not much and not for long.

Sometime during the session, Jim had started to relax. The fear had given way to wariness. While he didn’t look like he was ready to run, he still had a certain wariness about him. Blair tried to tell Jim as much as he could about the past, their work and their friendship. He avoided discussing the Sentinel aspect of Jim’s life, it would have sent the older man over the edge. It had been slow going, each revelation had to be weighed to avoid panicking the uncertain man any further. He caught Jim staring at him, realized he had been quiet too long.

"How did we get here?"

"You wanted to go camping and in the process give me a break from juggling two jobs. We’re in Montana about 10 miles from your friend’s house. We parked there and hiked over here yesterday. Last night we made camp not too far from here."

Blair paused for a moment not wanting to relive last night.

"Why is there a bandage on my head?"

"I put it on. You must have gotten hit sometime during the flood."

Jim tried to sit up a little straighter. "Flood!" The fear was back in his eye and his body tightened with tension.

Blair sighed. There went all of our work this past hour, right out the window.

"Yesterday it was raining and must have melted a lot of the snow pack because we got hit by a flash flood in the middle of the night."

Jim eyed the river upstream almost expecting to see a monster wave of water cascading down.

Blair quickly added that he thought the worst of it was over. At least he hoped it was.

"Take it easy Jim, we’re all right. We’re far enough from the water that we don’t have to worry." He was tempted to cross his fingers just for a little extra luck. Jim’s good eye lost its focus as fear tried to take up residence in his vacant memory. Without his memories, he didn’t have anything to face nameless dread.

Blair continued talking, trying to distract Jim from the thoughts bouncing around his head.

"Let’s see, where was I?"

Jim’s eye focused back on Blair. "The loft."

"Oh yeah. You let me live in the loft with you because my place was blown up."

"Blown up?" Jim’s body language reminded Blair of a bow string, pulled tighter and tighter to the snapping point.

Damn. Good job Sandburg, that’s one way to take his mind off the flood. Keep it light.

"Believe me, it wasn’t a great loss." He forced a laugh. "Larry and I got out okay. You took pity on us and we moved in temporarily."

Jim glanced around. "Where’s Larry? Did he come with us?"

Blair couldn’t help laughing. "Larry’s an Orangutan. He was part of a research project I was working on."

"I let an Orangutan live in my house?" His eyebrows started to climb, but he ended up wincing instead.

"Well, it didn’t last too long. Larry got loose one day and trashed the place."

"And I let you live there anyway?" Again the eyebrows started climb.

"Well, yeah." He smiled at the memories the question brought. House rules, color-coded storage dishes, no flushing after 10. "It just sort of happened." He shrugged his shoulders, wincing a little. "I was working on my doctoral thesis and you agreed to help."

Rather than go into their history as Sentinel and Guide, Blair used the cover story about studying mini-cultures in a closed society. Jim, Simon and he had created it to explain his status. Jim seemed to accept the explanation. By now Jim’s good eye was beginning to close.

It was time to test if the Sandburg charm worked or not. "Look Jim, you’re tired. Why don’t you come back over here and lay down?" Jim looked at the river, the bed, then Blair and then he looked back at the river once more. "You’ll be safe enough. I’ll stay awake just in case. Once you’re a little more rested, we’ll see if we can find any food."

That satisfied Jim for the moment. He used a nearby boulder and got to his feet. Pain shot through his hips. Reeling he managed to stay upright. Blair ached to help but Jim appeared skittish enough without adding physical contact to the mix. After the pain eased to a manageable level Jim limped favoring the ankle Blair had stepped on. Blair couldn’t help but smile. He hoped Jim wouldn’t ask him why his ankle hurt.

Feeling bone weak, fragile and too tired to worry anymore, Jim settled on the pine boughs. He’d have to just trust the kid, there was no one else. Blair, yeah that’s his name. He called me Jim. It doesn’t sound right. Am I really a cop? What if he’s lying? Why would he lie? Why wouldn’t he? His mind seemed to be stuck in a loop repeating the same questions over and over. ..am I? A cop? Who..Jim? His muscles knotted up as he tried to force his mind to remember something, anything that agreed with what the kid had told him. He only succeeded in making his head hurt worse. He fought to silence the questions in his head, folding his hands he begged. Please let me be me when I wake up. Then he repeated ‘Jim’ over and over unable to let go until he heard a calm voice cut through his jumbled thoughts.

"Jim, listen to my voice. Everything is real confusing for you right now. It’s hard to know what to trust. All I’m asking is that you trust me, just for now. Trust that I’ll watch over you." Blair could see Jim’s muscles loosen and uncoil. "Now try to focus on your breathing. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Good. Continue to breathe and as you breathe, think about relaxing your muscles. Start with your toes, work up toward your feet, ankles, calves, knees, until you reach the top of your head. Keep breathing in, out, in, out, feel the tension leave.." Blair stopped when he heard Jim’s soft deep breathing.

Blair felt his calm facade crumble. Light headed, with muscles that seemed to be made out of water, Blair was grateful to be sitting down. What do I do now? The irony of the question struck him. The only person he would have trusted for help was laying near him on a nest of pine boughs, scared out of his mind.

He watched Jim sleep, envious of the temporary peace his friend had found. Scooting to a shady spot, he leaned against a boulder hoping the coolness would help keep him awake. Aching for sleep, he fought to keep watch, he had made a promise. If Jim woke up and found him sleeping, it could shatter the fragile trust between them.

What happens after Jim wakes up? How long does amnesia last? Is it permanent? Is there something he should be doing? The thoughts chased each other around his mind. Stop it! The only thing I can do is get him back to civilization. He’d do it for me, even if it meant hauling me the entire way.

Aside from the head injury, Jim was in rough shape. It was apparent he had difficulty walking. He began cataloguing the injuries, trying to plan the best route back to the truck. Startled by a low moan, Blair looked over at the man on the bed. His one eye was open and watching the younger man. Satisfied that Blair was keeping his promise, he went back to sleep.

From what Blair could tell, it should be a little after noon. Time to wake Jim. He hated to wake the exhausted man but they both needed food and shelter. The clouds he had seen that morning were starting to darken. It would rain before the afternoon was gone. They didn’t have too much time, so they had to get moving.

Crawling over to where Jim lay, he put a hand on his shoulder. "Jim, wake up. We’ve got to get going."

Jim’s eyes flew open, he jerked away from Blair, but fell back on the boughs as pain ripped across his back. Moaning, he lay still and waited for the spasms to subside.

"Okay Jim, lay still. I’m going to check your back." Blair worked his way around until he knelt behind him. Lifting the shirt he could see that Jim’s ribs and lower back were severely bruised. "Now, I’m going to put my hand on your back."

Jim tried to move away. "No, don’t."

"Take it easy, I just want to check you out a little more."

Jim tensed up waiting for new waves of pain. When nothing happened, he relaxed a little. Blair gently worked his hand over the lower back.

Spinal injury? Should he even move? Forcing a light tone in his voice "You’ve got some very colorful bruises, Jim. Mostly around your ribs and lower back." He crawled around to face Jim. He wasn’t going to take this next bit of news too well. "We need food. We stashed some where we camped last night. Hopefully, it’s still there. I’m going to get it."

Jim tried to get up. Pressing his lips tight, he tried to stifle a groan and failed. Blair put a hand on his shoulder.

"No Jim, you have to stay still and give yourself a chance to heal." He could see the stubbornness starting to set in Jim’s face.

"I’m going." He tried to push Blair’s hand away.

Looking directly into Jim’s face, Blair hoped he could make him understand. "You need to conserve your strength, so we can get out of here." The jaw was still set in rebellion. The younger man ran his hands through his tangled hair. "It’ll only take me about 40 minutes, maybe an hour. You’ll be okay. I promise."

Blair reached over and grabbed the stick he had used earlier. Knowing Jim’s eyes were on him, he kept his back turned toward him trying to hide the pain as he struggled to get up.

"You’re hurt." It was an accusation.

Pasting a grin on his face, he turned. "Not really, just a little stiff from sitting so long. It’ll walk out."

Jim didn’t believe him. If Blair could go when he was hurt, so could he. Jim rolled to his back and tried to sit up. Pain flashed across his back and he fell on the ground.

Blair dropped down beside him. "You gotta stay flat, Jim! You’ll only make it worse. Right now rest is the only thing that can help."

Silenced by pain he didn’t say anything at first, then muttered angrily. "You go."

"Next time, we’ll leave together. Trust me." Blair promised, putting his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. "I’ve got to go now. It will only be for a little bit. I’m going to look for shelter while I’m gone. I’ll be back soon." Taking his cane, he struggled again to his feet.

Limping toward the old campsite, he allowed himself a bit of wishful thinking. I wonder what the chances are of finding a hotel in the area? Since a hotel was out of the question, he thought about attempting to fashion shelter from pine boughs. It might keep them fairly dry, but cold would be a problem. Their options were limited. He hadn’t seen any caves during the trip.

About 10 minutes later, he walked into a clearing and found hope in the form of an abandoned sluice. There has to be a mine nearby. Blair hurried as fast as his gimping leg could carry him to the side of the old wooden run. Following it away for a short distance, he realized the sluice was going up, disappearing into the heavy forest. It was hard to tell how far the sluice went, but with the shape Jim’s back was in, it was too far. Disappointed, he hobbled back toward the old camp site and food.

Stumbling into the old camp, or at least where he thought the camp had been, Blair stared at the devastation the flood left behind. The river had receded, leaving no trace that they had ever camped there. How had they survived? Blair didn’t ponder why they were spared, he was just thankful they were still alive.

"Where did you hang the backpack?" Talking aloud helped Blair feel not so alone. It had been dark and Blair had been getting ready for bed when Jim hoisted the pack in the trees. So which tree was it, closer to the river or behind the tent? He decided to start closest to the river and work his way back into the trees.

Stumbling occasionally over exposed tree roots and fallen branches, he congratulated himself for not pitching head first into any of the tree trunks. Except for that last root, when Blair smacked into the base of a nearby pine. Stunned, he lay there for a moment thinking that falling face first into mud was not such a bad thing. For one, it was a lot softer than the tree he just hit. Something warm trickled down his forehead, he reached up with tentative fingers to check the damage. Blair pulled his fingers away. Blood. Gingerly, he explored the damaged area. He let out a sigh of relief. It felt more like nasty scrape, and nothing more serious.

Rolling over, he lay on his back and closed his eyes. Resting for just a moment, he felt every ache, scratch, bruise and bug bite in or on his body. There didn’t seem to be a spot on him that didn’t hurt. This isn’t a camping trip, in reality this is somebody’s weird version of Blair torture.

Opening his eyes, he saw the pack swinging above him. The bump on his head was worth finding the backpack. Pushing against the tree, he climbed to his feet. Blair looked up at the pack and the tree, Jim had secured it with a slip knot. Reaching up, he grabbed the rope and pulled. Once it was on the ground, he untied the rope and tucked it into one of the pockets.

Opening the pack, he hauled out a package of crackers and the jar of peanut butter. Blair made short work of a couple of peanut butter and cracker sandwiches. For the first time since this ordeal began, Blair thought they might make it out alive. Chewing on the crackers, he sorted through the items in the pack. Food, it would have to be rationed. Who knew how long they would be here. Water purification tablets. Yes! He had been worried about drinking the muddy river water. Jim’s canteen. The orange first-aid bag. Clothes and socks. Blair pulled out a sweatshirt and pulled it over his tattered pullover. Warmth, what a concept! He tugged a pair of socks over his cold muddy feet.

Thinking of warmth, reminded him they would need a fire. Jim threw the matches in here somewhere. If Blair didn’t find the matches, they could still die of exposure. He continued to paw through the treasure chest. Unzipping a small side pocket, Sandburg grinned - matches.

After stuffing everything back into the pack, he started to throw the pack on his shoulders. The weight of the pack threw him off balance, forcing him to throw out his right arm to a nearby tree. His arm folded beneath the pressure and Blair slammed into the pine. He slumped against the tree, willing the pain to stop. The sharp throbbing pain slowed, but left a constant ache as a reminder. Gritting his teeth, he eased the pack onto the right shoulder inhaling sharply as the weight sunk onto the thrashed muscles. Slipping his left arm into the straps, he tried to carry much of the weight on his good shoulder. It really didn’t help, but at least he could think it did.

Now that they had food, shelter was next. How far could Jim walk? Probably not far enough. So if Jim can’t go to the shelter, it would have to come to him. Blair detoured back to the old sluice. Sitting on a rock, he dropped the pack off his throbbing shoulders. The relief was akin to ecstasy. Shaking off the desire to fall over and not move again for a couple of weeks, Blair forced himself up and hobbled over to check the planks of the sluice. If he could pull a few sections apart, he would drag them back to make a shelter. Casting an eye toward the sky, he realized he’d been gone longer than expected. If Jim was awake, he’d be starting to panic. Shouldering the pack with slow, deliberate movements, he began trudging back.

Plodding down the trail, weariness dragged at his feet. The backpack straps dug into his shoulders. He needed rest, but Jim needed him more. The clearing where he left Jim came into sight, but there was no sign of the injured man. He drew in a sharp breath that made his chest hurt. He tried to run but only managed to stumble faster to where Jim had been resting. "Jim, where are you, man?" For a moment or two, he heard only his own harsh breathing. A noise behind him caused him to whirl around. Only his walking staff saved him from falling. There, leaning against a tree, was the object of his panic, looking pale and shaky.

Anger warred with relief as Blair hurried over and grabbed Jim’s arm. "What are you doing, man?"

"Worried. Gone too long." Jim was pale, shaking with exertion, sweat ran down his face.

Relief won for the moment. Blair dropped the pack and put Jim’s arm over his shoulders. "Come over here, Jim. That’s it, lean on me. Doing good, just a few more steps. Great, now sit down and lean against this boulder." Blair pulled the pack over to where Jim sat. "Look Jim, we’ve got food." He opened the pack and started pulling out food. "You must be starved."

Jim shook his head slightly, trying not to aggravate the pounding in his skull. "Not really."

"You’ve got to be hungry. I’m putting a little peanut butter on a cracker. I want you to try and eat it." He shoved the cracker into Jim’s hand. "I’m going to get some water." He took a pan from the pack and walked over to river. Finding a small pool left behind by the receding flood, he scooped a pail of water. Taking it back to Jim, he set the pan aside to wait for the dirt to settle to the bottom.

He noticed Jim still hadn’t eaten the cracker. "Jim, you gotta eat something." He knelt down. "We’ve still got a long trek in front of us." He touched Jim’s shoulder. "Hey, are you with me?"

Jim had forgotten the cracker in his hand. He was still lost in the relief that Blair was back. He’d been gone so long. He had been afraid that Blair had gotten hurt or lost or....It didn’t matter now, Blair had kept his promise, he came back.

Jim didn’t respond to Blair’s entreaties. He just stared. "Jim? Hello, Jim? What’s going on? How’s your back? Is your head worse? Is there something wrong you haven’t told me? Jim?" He was acting like he was in the middle of a zone out. Blair shook his shoulder. "Come back, Jim. Come back to the real world."

Jim snapped back into reality. What was that? It was almost as if everything had vanished and all he could see was Blair.

Blair could see the confusion in Jim’s eyes, he had zoned out. How do I help him through this? He doesn’t even know his name. How do I explain Sentinels? Keeping a hand on the distressed man, he sat down and tried to get comfortable despite his complaining muscles. "Hey Jim, take it easy. This has happened before. It’s called a zone out. It happens when you concentrate on something so hard that everything else fades to the background."

Blair’s explanation offered no comfort. This had happened before? It had scared the daylights out of him. How could he be a detective if he, what did Blair call it - zoned out? Wouldn’t that get him killed? Something seemed to be missing, as he tried to put the pieces of his jigsaw mind together.

Even though the clouds above were darkening, Blair couldn’t abandon Jim to the emotions and questions fleeting across his mind. "Tell me what you’re thinking. I can help, I’ve been your partner for two years. I’ve been with you through zone outs, gun battles and cleaning the loft to your exact specifications. I know you." He rubbed a hand across his eyes, trying to push the fatigue away. "But I can’t help if you don’t talk to me."

Jim’s head ducked down toward his chest. "Everything disappeared. All I could see was you."

"Yeah that happens."

"Can I stop it?"

Blair sighed "Not really. But if you try not to focus on any one thing too intently, you might be able to limit the episodes." Then he smiled. "Besides you’ve got me. If you zone out, I’m right beside you and I’ll pull you back. That’s part of my job description." Rubbing Jim’s shoulder, he got up. "Now please try to eat the cracker. I’ll check the water, it may have settled enough so we can drink."

Jim ate the cracker, without tasting it. He was grappling with everything the kid had told him. It was so frustrating to look inside the place that housed his mind and see nothing but blank walls. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the boulder. He couldn’t remember a thing. Nothing Blair had told him seemed familiar. He wondered if beating his head against the rock would help. Would he ever remember? "Will I get my memory back?"

"Sure you will."

Startled, Jim dragged his head forward. Had he really asked that question aloud?

Blair looked up from pouring water into the canteen. "Look, you took a real nasty shot to the head last night. It’s not too surprising that you’re having trouble remembering. Once it starts healing, you’ll start to remember." He turned his eyes back to the canteen so the frightened man wouldn’t see the fear in his own eyes. He prayed that it would be true.

Finished with his task, he handed the canteen to Jim for a drink. "Are you up to moving?"

"Where?"

"I want to move a little farther into the forest and build a camp site." He motioned to the sky. "It’s probably going to rain and we need some kind of shelter." Blair gathered their things and put them in the pack. "During my travels, I found an old sluice. I’m going to take the boards apart and make a lean-to."

He reached down to the larger man. "Come on, let me help you up." Looking down he noticed Jim’s muddy bare feet. "Let’s put a pair of socks on you first." He rooted through the pack and found a pair of socks. Once they were on, he eased Jim to his feet.

Jim rocked back and forth a bit, but he stayed up right. "Great Jim, now lean on that stick I gave you, while I get the pack on." Pulling on the pack, he pleaded with his body. One more time, I promise, just one more time and that’s it....Until tomorrow. "Let’s go Jim. Lean on me." Together, they shuffled into the forest.

"A couple more feet, then we can quit." Blair stopped and dropped the pack to the ground. "Now, let me help you down." Jim all but toppled to the ground. Blair pulled the backpack over and moved it under the exhausted man’s head. Using part of his sleeve, he wiped the sweat from Jim’s ashen face. They’d made it almost to the abandoned sluice. Jim had walked all the way without complaining, although he’d clutched the younger man’s arm a little tighter after a nasty stumble or two.

Blair rubbed his arms against the chill in the air. He managed to open the side pocket with the matches. Jim hadn’t moved. He appeared as beaten on the outside as Blair felt inside. He leaned over and put a hand on Jim’s shadowed face. "Hey man, how ya doing?"

He didn’t even bother to open his eye. "Tired."

"Yeah, I know." Blair patted Jim’s shoulder. "Why don’t you rest? I’m going to get some wood and get a fire going."

"No. I can help." He opened his eye and made an effort to push himself up.

Blair’s hand tightened on the older man’s shoulder and pushed him back down. "Jim, you’re in no shape to do anything."

Electricity snapped in Jim’s blue eye. "I’m not crippled. I can help."

"You can barely get up off the ground. You’re in no shape to do anything other than just sit there and stay put!" Jim flinched. Blair yanked his hand away and stood up. He opened his mouth intending to apologize, but nothing came out. Turning on his heel, he limped away.

Blair stopped once he got to the old sluice. He leaned against it holding his head in his hands. He hadn’t meant to jump all over Jim. He was just so tired of trying to convince Jim and himself that everything would be okay. I’ve lived with primitive tribes, I know the basics. But I’m an anthropologist, not a survivalist. I didn’t spend 18 months in Peru living off the land. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work a knot out. It wasn’t helping. I’m so tired of guessing.

He missed hearing the foot steps dragging through the wet grass. A hand pushed his aside and started rubbing Blair’s neck. "It’ll be okay." Blair turned around. The trust he saw in that blue eye strengthened his resolve to go a little further. He put his hand on top of Jim’s and smiled. "Yeah, sure it will."

He turned back to the sluice. "I’m going to try and pull some of the boards out and use them for the shelter. Why don’t you sit...." He caught himself. "the boards over there for me." He saw Jim’s grin and knew he hadn’t missed the remark, but chose to ignore it.

The wood was old and weathered. The rusty nail heads gave way as he tugged and pushed against the planks. One more piece, that’s all he needed. His arms ached, the strain on his shoulder was fast becoming unbearable. His hand slipped off the board and he fell backward, landing on the wet grass.

"Blair!" Jim had reached out for the young man but missed. Ignoring the spasms in his back, he knelt down groaning, by the man’s side. Blair waved him away.

"I’m fine, Jim. Just give me a minute to catch my breath." Knowledgeable hands ran over his head, down his arms, and around his ribs. "Wait a minute Jim, I said I was fine. You don’t have to check me just because you were a...." Blair’s outburst trailed off. "Jim, Jim, you’ve got your memory back!" Wincing, he sat up and threw his arms around Jim. "See I told you, it’d just take some time, but your memory would come back." The man in his arms held himself stiff and straight. "What’s wrong, man?" Blair pulled away, the relieved grin fell away from his face when saw Jim’s face. "You didn’t remember anything, did you?"

He shook his head and tore away from Blair’s grasp. Falling against the side of the sluice, he remained motionless, his face averted. Burning tears of shame crowded his eyes. He failed the kid. He had seen the look of relief on Blair’s face, had felt the tension drain away, only to see it slam back with a vengeance. Wrapped in his own misery, he didn’t feel the arms sliding around his shoulders. After a while he heard a voice breaking through, repeating the same litany over and over. "It’s okay, Jim. Your memory will come back. We’re going to be fine."

"It’s not okay." Arms tightened even as he tried to pull away. "You don’t know if my memory will come back. You don’t know that anything’s going to be fine."

Blair released Jim from the embrace, but kept an arm draped across his back. Time to tell the truth. "As much as people think I’m a walking book of information, there are some things I don’t know. I don’t know how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. I don’t know what happens when you put a pair of socks into the washer and only one comes out of the dryer." He chuckled. "Although my personal theory is that there is a black hole in the dryer." The tension in Jim’s shoulders eased just a little. He turned so he could look at Jim in the face. "There are things that I do know, one that I’m positive about is friendship. We’ve been through a lot together. Some of my beliefs have been battered by the things we’ve seen, but one thing that has always remained is my belief in you and in our friendship."

Jim turned his head. "But I’m not the man I was yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that. There’s no guarantee that I’ll ever be the man who you called friend again."

B