Archive of Our Own ^beta

Reversal
by Deb

"Call for back-up."

Blair sighed as the familiar weight of the cell phone was slapped into his hand. Without even looking at the pad, his fingers automatically pressed the numbers for the Cascade P.D. Waiting for the connection, he launched into a well-rehearsed tirade, "Call for back-up, call for back-up. You don't need a Guide, Jim Ellison. You need a telephone operator. I know, I know..." He waved off an imagined protest. "I'm not a cop, I'm a civilian, I'm a student, I'm not a cop, I'm an anthropologist, I'm a consultant, I'm NOT a cop. But I am your Guide and my place is at your side, not stuck out here so far from the action that I'd need a newspaper to know what was going on. Okay, okay..." Another imagined protest. "You haven't zoned in weeks, maybe months, but still, you've let this 'Blessed Protector' role go way too far."

Winding his muttered tirade down, Blair realized the phone was squealing at him. Hitting redial, he watched the 'no signal' light come on. Looking up, it didn't take a rocket scientist to know why. The abandoned paper factory they had tracked the drug traffickers to was situated, from necessity, on the river. The river that at this particular stretch was nestled deep between two parallel ridges which quite effectively blocked any and all signals.

Grimacing, he reviewed his options. He could stand and wait, hoping Jim wasn't counting on back-up, go into the building and locate his partner, or get in the truck and find a high point to send from.

Before he arrived at a decision, a van screeched up at the far end of the factory. Six men carrying weapons jumped out and entered a doorway there, without looking his way.

Without hesitation, he ran into the door Jim had entered only to find himself in a stairway. Lights at the bottom of the flight convinced him to try the basement first. Cautiously he entered the cavernous room, blinking at the sight of a fully equipped meth lab. Besides the tables full of glass vials and containers, the floor was piled high with crates, cartons and large tanks of unknown gasses and liquids. Jim stood about twenty feet from the bottom of the steps, gun aimed squarely at the only other occupant of the room - a pale, fiercely glaring young man with greasy hair pulled back in a pony tail.

Blair remained still, not wanting to distract his partner, knowing full well the older man was aware of him.

"Get out Blair." Jim's first words confirmed his suspicions. "This place is full of fumes. Go out and wait for the back-up."

"But a bunch of armed men just came in the other end of the factory, man." Blair hesitated, wondering how to tell Jim they were cut off from help, without informing the criminals at the same time.

At that moment, two men, laughing and joking, unaware they'd been raided, walked in the far door. Jim looked away for a split second but it was enough. The pony-tailed man dove for the floor and came up with an automatic weapon.

"NO!" Jim screamed as he crouched.

The first shot from the dealer went wild, the second hit a tank full on which exploded into a sheet of white flame. The blast triggered the other canisters in the room which rocked with the force of the explosion. Blair watched the first container shatter into a burst of light, then the force caught him. He vaguely felt the impact with the wall, then nothing.

Blair awoke, coughing from the dust choking the air. Each cough sent a lance of white hot pain arching from his leg to the top of his head. Taking shallow breaths seem to help the coughing, so he lay quietly focusing on that for awhile until the spasms passed.

Feeling around with his hands, he discovered a wall just behind him. Grabbing onto the jagged handholds formed by chunks of concrete loosened by the explosion, he levered himself to a sitting position, grasping his stomach when the movement made him violently nauseous. It took a few minutes for his blurry vision to clear, not that it helped much. The room was fairly dark although some sunlight streamed through some of the areas where the upper floor had collapsed completely into the basement.

Basement. The word reminded him of just where he was and he looked around frantically for Jim. The area just around the student was fairly clear of debris, only a few piles of wood and what had been the ceiling, nothing large enough to cover a body as large as Jim's. Searching, he found the doorway he had originally entered just over his head. Thinking back to where they had been standing when the blast occurred... Jim would have been standing right about there....

The area he decided on was completely dark, the ceiling having partially dropped, but not separated from the floor above. It now formed a sort of lean-to. Try as he might, Blair simply couldn't make out any details in the murky area beneath it.

Gathering his strength, Sandburg started to stand, only to be stopped by the most intense pain he'd ever felt. If his entire leg had been on fire, it couldn't have been worse. Wiping away the tears the motion had evoked, he checked his right leg, horrified to find a concrete reinforcing rod protruding two inches on each side of his calf. Well, that explained the pain. Recalling his need to find Jim, he laid down carefully on his stomach and pulled himself, inch by inch across the fifteen feet or so to the shadowed area.

Almost upon it, he made out a darker shape within the area, a Jim-sized shape. With renewed energy, he closed the gap between himself and still form. "Jim? Jim, man, are you okay? Come on, Big Guy. You have to be all right."

Blair scooted closer, running a shaking hand up the broad back to the neck, feeling desperately for a pulse, then almost sobbing in relief when he found it slow and ready beneath his fingers. Now he ran his hands over his friend, checking for obvious injuries. A large lump on the back of Ellison's head appeared the most serious. Even though he detected no obviously broken bones, Blair decided to stay under the dubious shelter of the overhang until Jim woke up and they could check for any numbness that would indicate a broken neck or back. That is, he decided to stay right up until an ominous thud far overhead, was followed by various bumps and crashes, each louder and closer than the previous one. The final impact hit the slanted ceiling above them, making it vibrate, then creak most alarmingly.

Blair glanced upward, a pointless exercise in the inky blackness Another crack overhead produced a shuddering in the entire slanted section of ceiling. Quickly revising his decision, Blair grabbed Jim's ankles and slithered backwards, striving to pull the large man out into the open area.

Foot by excruciating foot, the Guide persevered, never stopping until his feet bumped into the corner he had awoken in. The jolt sent another flare of agonizing pain lancing through his body, the last thing he knew as he passed out.

Blinking groggily, Blair peered around the impromptu prison. The area
was considerably darker now, obviously he had been unconscious for several
hours and it was now close to sundown. A low moan from nearby sent him
scrambling to slide up beside his partner.

"Jim? Jim are you hurt? Can you move?" Slipping automatically into what Jim deemed 'the Guide voice'.

To his relief, Ellison rolled heavily to his back, wincing, then moved his head to the side to avoid the lump. He began scrubbing at his eyes, until Blair's hand settled on his shoulder. Jim visibly started, staring frantically around himself. "Who's there? Who is it?"

Cold fear wrapped its tentacles around Blair, squeezing until he found it difficult to breathe. "It's me, Jim. Blair. Can't you see me? Can't you hear me?"

When it became obvious that the answer to both questions was 'no', Blair grabbed the larger man's hand and pressed it firmly against his own chest. "Feel man, feel my heart. I know you listen to it. You recognize the rhythm."

Relaxing minutely as the older man calmed down, Blair stretched out with lips right beside Jim's ear. "Can you hear me now? Jim. Listen to me. Turn the dial up - can you hear me?"

"Just barely, " Jim groaned. "What the hell happened , Chief? I can't see. I can hardly hear. What happened to me?"

"There was an explosion. Remember the meth lab? We're trapped in the basement, most of the upper floor collapsed." Blair shuddered as he looked over to where he had found Jim. The area was now piled five feet deep with debris from the upper stories. "Probably the blast overloaded your senses, although you also have a nasty bump on your head. Do you hurt anywhere else?"

Jim shifted arms and legs, flexing muscles. "Just some pulls. Help me up."

Clenching his jaw, Blair pushed himself up to lean against the wall, then grabbed Jim by the forearm. No soon had the larger man gotten up, when he clutched at his skull and toppled over, his head landing firmly on Blair's left thigh.

"What is it?" Blair practically shouted, unable to bend low with Jim laying on him.

"Dizzy. Hurts. My head feels like it's exploding."

"Stay down .You must have a concussion. Don't move." The teaching fellow peered through the increasing darkness, finally spotting one of the straps of his backpack curling out from under a pile of wood about three feet away. Thankful that his meditation techniques accorded him plenty of flexibility, Blair managed to stretch his torso sideways and grab the strap without jostling either Jim or his own throbbing leg.

Finally he snagged his prize, jerking at it several times before it slid from under the pile of wood and plaster.

"What are you doing?" Jim's voice betrayed his underlying panic at being blind and out of control.

Blair laid a comforting hand on the bigger man's forehead. "Sorry, man, but..." He paused for a panting breath, "...saw my backpack. " Another breath as the student struggled with the dizziness and nausea that accompanied every shift in position. "Let's see what we have...All right. My water. Here, Jim."

Jim gratefully sipped at he cool liquid that washed the taste of plaster and concrete dust from his mouth. Returning the bottle, he asked, "What else is in your treasure trove? I suppose your phone is too much to ask for."

"Naw, man. I was holding it when the place went up. It probably hit the wall when I did. I do have a bag of dried fruit - are you hungry?" A head shake against his leg told him to continue. "What else? Um, an overdue library book, a ceremonial Mayan good luck charm, hah! Fat lot of luck that brought, a notebook..."

"If I catch you making notes on my responses or turning this into one of your tests, your new dissertation can be on the life and tragic demise of a grad student with incredibly poor timing."

Chuckling, the younger man relaxed. If Jim could make jokes, he mustn't be too seriously injured. "I'll try to control myself, " he retorted dryly. "Seriously, Jim. How are the senses?"

"Off line, mostly, Chief. I can't see at all."

"I think the goose egg on the back of your head is to blame for that."

" I don't care what's to blame as long it comes back. As for hearing, I've got it turned up full and can just hear your voice. Nothing else, not even your heartbeat." The Sentinel sounded frustrated and dazed.

Guiltily, Blair realized he was glad for that, at least Jim wouldn't know how fast his heart was pounding from the pain and his longtime fear of being trapped in dark places. "Uh, what about smell? Touch?"

"Mostly I smell dust and a faint whiff of something...copper? No. Blood. Are you okay, Chief?"

"Me?" Blair almost squeaked. There was no way he'd allow Jim to go into 'Blessed Protector' mode. "Er, there were seven other guys down here with us, Jim. I haven't heard anyone moving around..."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot."

Moving on to consider his sense of touch, Jim forgot that his friend had never said he was in fact, all right.

"I can feel my head pounding all right, and I feel your leg. I'm not going to try taste until my stomach settles. It won't be much help in getting us out of here, anyhow." Jim started to sit up again, but strong hands caught his shoulders, gently pressing him back down.

"No way, man. You're hurt and need to rest. Besides it's pitch dark now and I can't see either. Even before, I didn't see an easy, or even a hard way out. Just rest until the sun comes up again. Please?"

Reluctantly, Jim allowed himself to be settled on his roommate' s lap again. He lay for long minutes, his only movement the clenching of his jaw. Blair could feel the rhythmic motion against his leg. Knowing the older man would be intensely uncomfortable with being helpless, as well as angry that they were trapped, the observer wisely kept silent, merely gently massaging his friend's forehead until Jim spoke again.

"You're right, kid. How 'bout some more water?"

After a few cautious sips, Ellison appeared to fall into a light doze. Blair hurriedly checked for a pulse, sighing when he found a healthy beat. He tried a small sip of the water himself. He knew he needed to replenish fluids, bleeding as he was, but his stomach seemed permanently lodged in his throat.

Sandburg stored the water back in his knapsack, double-checked that Jim was asleep then leaned over as well as he could, checking the wound in his leg. It was far too dark to see but he didn't need Sentinel senses to know he was bleeding again. All the movement must have shifted the rod.

Slowly sitting back up, he tugged at his ever-present flannel shirt. The blast had ripped it in several places and he easily tore a three inch wide piece off the hem which he tied around the calf above the wound. Direct pressure wasn't possible until the intrusive metal could be removed. Just the thought turned Blair's stomach and he fought the bile rising in his throat. A hard swallow forced down the feeling and he concentrated on his mantra while taking shallow breaths. Eventually his stomach dropped back where it belonged, while the nonstop throbbing of his leg seemed to ease a bit with the makeshift tourniquet in place.

After checking Jim's pulse and breathing, Blair felt the older man's forehead for any sign of fever, sighing in relief when none was found. As he removed his hand, Ellison muttered in his sleep. Blair quickly replaced his hand, starting a gentle temple massage.

"Easy, Jim. I'm here." A soft chuckle filled the area. "Not likely to be going anywhere soon! Even if I was mobile, I can't see in here at all. With the luck I've had recently, I'd be sure to stumble against a supporting beam and bring down the rest of the building." Blair shifted, trying to find a more comfortable section of wall to lean against, but the whole area was peppered with chunks of concrete, dug loose by the detonation. Still, he was better off sitting up, he reasoned. He'd be better able to stay awake and check on his partner from time to time. The student paused in his massage for a second. He was certain Jim had a concussion, possibly a bad one if his sight was affected. Perhaps he should try and keep his patient awake...

A groan from the detective recalled him to the soothing massage. "Sorry, man. You know me, if my mouth isn't motoring, my brain is. Hey, Jim? Jim can you hear me? Maybe you shouldn't sleep."

"Not likely with you running off at the mouth, Chief."

Feeling his friend stiffen, Ellison immediately apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. You're right, I ought to stay awake. You're the storyteller of the partnership. What have you got that'll keep me awake?"

Blair considered for a minute, then his face brightened. "Oh man, I know one. The indigenous culture of the upper Amazon basin has this incredible story of the creation of the world. See, there was this major deity..."

Hours passed as the anthropologist related every myth and legend his increasingly muddled brain could remember. Jim remained alert throughout, remarking on the points that interested him, questioning the more obscure references. Finally exhausting his encyclopedic vault of stories, Sandburg switched to outrageous accounts of some of the more exotic adventures Naomi had dragged him through as a child and young teen.

Lost in the memories, close to shock from his wound, Blair wasn't paying any particular attention to what he was saying. Vaguely he recognized that his foot and leg below the injury were blessedly numb now. Additionally he'd been shivering for hours. Telling himself it was simply a reaction to the predawn chill in the basement, he started to sit up a bit straighter, only to freeze in horror as he finally tuned in to what he'd been babbling about - "...so there were are in Belize and I have this major crush on the expedition leader. He was so gorgeous - six foot one, buff, brown hair, blue eyes..."

Blair snapped his mouth shut, closed his eyes and waited for his friend to explode off the floor and put some distance between them. Long minutes passed where the only sound was water dripping from a destroyed pipe somewhere overhead. Eventually Blair realized nothing had happened - no angry recriminations, no horrified exclamations of disgust, just the deep, even breathing of the man whose head was cradled on his lap.

Cautiously the student slitted his eyes. Jim lay in exactly the same position he'd spent the night in, lying on his side, legs bent to increase stability. Breathing a prayer to whichever deity was responsible, Blair called softly, "Jim? Are you awake?"

The breathing continued the same easy rhythm.

"Oh man, thank you, thank you. He's asleep." A deep sigh, as Blair tired to calm his racing heart. Having spent the last several hours talking, he was unaware that he continued to voice his thoughts. "Way to almost blow it, Sandburg. It's not bad enough that you never told him you're bi, that you have a BIG button with 'tall, muscular, military types' chiseled into it. No. You have to compound it by falling deeply, overwhelmingly, forever after in love with a guy who could have been the poster boy for Ronnie Regan's straight America. Then, you disengage your brain and let your mouth run. What would you have blabbed next? The reason Sam stopped dating you? That she was tired of knowing you were imagining someone else in her place? The same reason you never have a second date anymore? Hell, at least be honest with yourself...you haven't had any dates in months - 'table leg' comments not withstanding."

The end of the monologue had been delivered in a harsh raspy voice, abused by hours of non-stop talking. Blair coughed, trying to clear his throat then groped in his bag for the water. A few feeble rays of sunlight from the new dawn illuminated the room enough to see that the water was half-gone. He allowed himself a small sip, then set the bottle down beside them, his eyes sliding shut as he fell into an exhausted doze, never seeing the beatific smile dawning on his companion's face.

+++++

"Blair? Blair, buddy - you still with me? Wake up, Blair."

Blinking groggily, Blair gazed down in confusion. "Jim? Ah, why are you in my lap? Where the heck...OH!" Memory returned in a breath-taking rush. "How are you man? Can you see?"

"No." The Sentinel's voice could have cut steel. "I still can't see. Is it light now? It feels warmer in here."

"Yeah, it's full daylight now." Blair tired to keep the disappointment and concern from his voice.

"So I'm blind then."

The complete deadness of the statement twisted the student's stomach. "Come on, man. You have to give it time. Let me see that lump on the back of your head."

Jim turned his face further into his pillow's crotch, drawing a hiss from the younger man. Immediately Blair tried to divert attention from it. "Oh, wow. This is even bigger than yesterday. No wonder you're having problems, It's probably putting pressure on your occipital region. We've got to get you to a hospital."

"Let's worry about getting out of here first. Help me up." Jim struggled to a sitting position, swaying but refusing Blair's attempts to make him lie down again. "Just give me a minute, then you help me up, Chief and we'll find a way out." No way, Jim You can't even sit, let alone walk. Just let me...NO!"

Ellison pushed himself to his knees, face paling alarmingly. "Jim you're going to hurt yourself-and me too!"

This last finally got the 'Blessed Protector's' attention. "What do you mean, Sandburg?"

"I mean, this room is deathtrap. The only clear area is the one we're in. Everywhere else the ceiling is down or about to come down. There are piles of debris, broken pipes, loose live wires...I'm telling you - even if you could see, there's no way to get to the far staircase...assuming it's still there."

"Jesus, Blair. I wish you'd stayed outside, like I asked." Jim sounded more depressed than angry.

Blair dropped his head, refusing to give in to the tears that threatened. "I know, I know. This is all my fault. If I'd stayed outside, I could have gotten you out of here by now."

"No, Blair," Jim tried to interrupt the litany of guilt. "That's not what I meant."

"But, I'll make it up to you. I swear." Blair gave no sign of having heard his friend at all. "There's one possible way out. You can't see it but right over my head there are four steps still mostly attached to the doorway. If you can stand up, bracing yourself in the corner, and boost me straight up, I'll grab the lowest step and haul myself up and out."

As Blair paused for breath, Jim took advantage of the momentary lull in the monologue. "Hold up there, Chief. First of all, I'm sorry you didn't listen to me because I'm sorry you're trapped in here too. Nothing else. Second, if I do boost you up, how will I get out?"

"Ah, I don't think those stairs will hold your weight, Jim."

"Then you're not going to try it either." Jim's voice was final.

"Have to, man. I don't see another way out and this place is too dangerous to wait around until some passer-by wonders why a truck's been abandoned outside. I don't think those pushers chose this place for its regular police patrols."

"Good point," Ellison conceded grudgingly. "But then what, after you get out?"

"Hope like hell the truck is still there. I'll drive it up onto the highest overlook and use the radio." Blair tried to sound completely optimistic and confident. Both of them needed medical attention and soon. He could do this.

Jim sat considering for a on time before he sighed deeply. "I'll have to trust your judgment on this one, Sandburg. Give me a minute to get up and we'll get you on your way."

Blair gritted his teeth and levered himself upright with his good leg. This was not only their best chance of escape, it was probably their only chance and it all depended on him. Luckily, Jim was too concerned with getting turned to face the wall, then climbing to his own feet to notice his friend's struggle. By the time the older man was upright, Blair was also.

"All right, Jim." Blair manhandled the cop into position. "Stand here - that's right, lean into the corner. It'll help your stability. Now, make a basket with your hands. On three, I'll step up into your hands and you boost me straight up. Ready?"

At Ellison's nod, Blair braced himself, both hands gripping the older man's shoulders. "One, two...three!"

Before he could worry that his bad leg wouldn't hold his weight for even a second, the student found himself grasping at the lowest wooden riser. With strength born of desperation, he hauled himself up far enough to hook his good leg around one of the remaining supports and quickly climbed up to the open doorway.

For a full minute he lay, gasping to regain his breath, then twisted around to peer down over the edge. Jim had slid down the wall, leaning in the corner. "You okay, down there?"

"Just fine, Tarzan. How about you get some help now?"

"Right. Oh, the water bottle is beside you right knee and the backpack with the fruit is about a foot beyond that. I'll be back soon, Jim. I promise."

Jim waited until he heard Blair slide back from the edge before mumbling softly, "I'm counting on it, Chief." Reaching down for the water, the blind man knocked it over with his hand and heard it roll a foot or so. Cursing, he ran his hand back and forth across the floor stopping as he encountered a large wet puddle. Cautiously he raised his fingers to his nose - his senses were slightly improved over yesterday, but not back to what passed for normal with him. When the coppery scent of blood filled his nose, he snorted, trying to clear the odor.

Returning his hand to the floor, he found the edges of a still tacky stain. Jim's face creased in a puzzled frown. This was fresh... Mind working feverishly, the detective determined that the only possible way there could be fresh blood on the floor where his partner had been sitting all night, holding him, taking care of him - A horrified realization burst across his face as he twisted his attention upwards to where he thought the doorway was. "Blair? BLAIR!"

After sliding back from the edge of the staircase, Blair wasted no time in dragging himself outside. To his enormous relief, the truck sat exactly where Jim had parked it the day before...as did the van. Apparently none of the gang had escaped the explosion.

The thirty yards space that separated him from Ellison's truck appeared at least three times as far as it should. The moment that he took his full weight on his injured leg as Jim boosted him had convinced Blair that walking was not an option. After a series of trial efforts he finally discovered that crawling gave him the greatest stability as long as he remembered to keep his lower legs far enough apart not to bump the ends of the rod.

An infinity later, a sweat-drenched, trembling figure dragged himself bodily into the cab of the truck. Grunting he lifted his right leg and stretched it out on the seat, twisting so that he could reach the control pedals with his left foot and thanking who/whatever that his partner hadn't opted for a clutch.

Fumbling with the ignition, he breathed easier when the motor roared to life. His progression through the parking lot to the road was a series of lurches until he became accustomed to accelerating with the 'wrong' foot. Once on the main road, he headed back the way they'd come yesterday. After ten miles he finally found the the "Cascade Overlook" sign he'd been looking for, and turned onto the narrow dirt road carved out of the side of the ridge. A nerve racking twenty minutes later he emerged onto the cleared peak.

As promised, the view of Cascade, forty miles away was spectacular, had Blair been in the frame of mind to appreciate it. As it was he simply parked the truck and grabbed the police radio microphone. Thumbing the button he began speaking; "If anyone can hear me, please respond. My name is Blair Sandburg. I'm an observer with the Cascade Major Crime Division. I have an officer down and in need of immediate medical attention. Can anyone hear me?"

Releasing the transmit button, he waited one full agonizingly silent minute before repeating his plea. After the fourth appeal for help, the receiver finally crackled to life.

"This is Trooper Spencer of the Washington State Patrol. What is your location, Mr. Sandburg and what is the situation?"

Blair whooped in triumph before hitting the send switch again. Tersely he explained what had happened and exactly where Jim was. "How soon can you get to him?"

"At least twenty minutes and I'll arrange for rescue personnel to be scrambled immediately." The trooper's voice was calm and reassuring.

"Great, I'll meet you there."

"Understood, Spencer out."

Blair slumped back against the driver's door, the mike dropping from shaky fingers. The adrenaline rush that had fueled his escape from the building and carried him throughout the drive was now expended. Without realizing it, he slipped into unconsciousness.

+++++

Jim sat stiffly in the same corner Blair had spent the night in, tightly gripping his friend's backpack. "Come on, partner. Come on. You should have been back by now..."

The faint sound of an engine brought him to his feet, yelling, "Blair?"

"Detective Ellison, is that you?"

"Yeah, who are you?" Jim asked cautiously.

"Trooper Spencer, W.S.P., Badge 8490. I received a report you're trapped and injured. How are you?"

"Outside the fact that I can't see to get myself out of this damned basement, I'm fine. Can you throw me a rope?"

"We really ought to wait for the EMTS to arrive, Detec..."

"I appreciate your caution, Trooper," Jim was almost frantic to get out of the building and make sure Blair was all right. "But I assure you I'm fine. I was a Ranger. I am fully capable of climbing a wall with my eyes closed, but I need a rope!"

When no response was forthcoming, Ellison tried again. "Look, I acknowledge the risks and take full responsibility if I kill myself, all right?"

A low throaty chuckle drifted down. "All right, you win. Be right back."

A few minutes later, a scuffling sound overhead heralded the trooper's return. "Okay, Detective. Where are you? Oh, there. Good. Don't move for a second."

The sound of a rope slapping the wall beside him startled Jim for just a moment before he grabbed it, hauling himself upright, swaying a bit from dizziness.

The trooper's voice sounded concerned as he called down again. "Are you sure you're all right? You don't look too steady to me."

"I'm fine. Just dizzy. Listen you'll have to help me maneuver up and over the steps left up there." Jim prepared himself to climb.

"Steps? I don't know anyone charitable enough to call this free form wood sculpture barely attached to the wall, steps." Amusement warred with confusion in the man's voice. "What little is here is barely a foot wide. Who told you there are steps? "

Jim ground his teeth. "My partner. That's how he got out. I boosted him up till he grabbed on and hauled himself up."

The officer whistled in admiration. "You're kidding me. I wouldn't think this debris would hold a ten year old, let alone a grown man."

"Thank God it did." Jim grabbed the rope more securely, testing his weight on it. "Here I come." In no time, he was being dragged over the lip of the doorway. To his chagrin, it took considerably longer to get his breathing back to normal while Trooper Spencer quickly checked him over.

"Okay, large lump on head, some bruising, minor cuts...nothing to account for the amount of blood on your hand - where did that come from?"

Instantly Jim struggled to his feet. "There's a stain on the floor down there. I think it's my partner's. Where is he? In your car?"

The young officer sounded surprised. "Uh, no. He said he'd meet me here. Musta changed his mind. He probably drove back to Cascade."

"Obviously, you've never had a partner, Spencer." Jim tried to keep the impatience from is voice. "Sandburg would have come back if he could. Did he tell you where he called from?"

"Cascade Overlook. Over there...."

Elision almost laughed at the officer's embarrassment. His sense were rushing back now, he could easily feel the heat of a blush from his rescuer.

"It's okay. I'd like to forget I can't see too. Now, how do we get to my partner?"

"We don't." The man's voice brooked no argument. "We wait here for the EMTS who will check you out and transport to Two Forks Hospital. I'll call headquarters. They can dispatch another unit to go check on him."

"And how soon could they be there?" Despite his best efforts, Jim's voice rose to a hoarse shout. "How long before he bleeds to death? He could all ready..." Jim rubbed his forehead and swayed until his arm was taken in a firm grasp.

"Come on. Let's get you into my car and I'll get on the radio."

Jim had just been settled in the passenger seat when he twisted his head sharply. "Is your rescue unit coming by air?"

"No, " The trooper, hearing nothing, was confused by the question. "Why?"

Three minutes later, the trooper blinked in amazement as a police helicopter set down fifty yards from them. Before the craft was completely down, a tall, muscular black man in a suit and dark coat was sprinting towards them

"Jim? Jim are you all right? Sandburg's report was relayed to me, Where are the medics?" This last blast was directed at Trooper Spencer who visibly blanched.

"Ease up, Simon. I'll be okay. I'm starting to see light and dark. But I need your copter. Sandburg is hurt, I think and he didn't come back. Can our pilot find Cascade Overlook and can we land there?"

To Simon's credit, he never questioned Jim's statement, merely wheeled and raced back to the copter. After a brief conference with the pilot, he motioned for Spencer to bring Ellison over. The officer closed his eyes, praying for patience. Working with the general public could be trying but to get a cop to relinquish control was pure aggravation. With a shrug of resignation, he guided a squinting Jim across to the aircraft which took off the instant Ellison and Banks were settled in.

Tersely, Jim filled his boss in as to what had happened and why he was so concerned over a missing Sandburg. Just as he finished, the pilot began descending. Jim peered fretfully through that window. "Is it there, Captain? Is the truck there?"

A comforting hand squeezed his shoulder. "Yeah, the truck is there. I don't see any movement, though. You stay here..."

The second he felt the skids touch down, Ellison fumbled for the door, leading Simon to shout at him. "God damn it, Jim! At least let me get you over there."

With a firm grasp, Simon placed Jim's hand on his shoulder and guided him over to the still running truck, stopping over when Jim faltered several feet from the vehicle.

"He's alive, Simon, I can hear his heartbeat, but it's irregular."

"Okay, Jim. I can see him. He's asleep or passed out. Stay here while I open the door." Simon knocked lightly on the window but the body inside didn't rouse. Quickly he opened the door, jumping forward as Blair tumbled bonelessly to the ground.

Jim reeled backwards, overcome by the pervasive stench of blood from the cab. "What is it, Simon? Where's he bleeding from?"

"Sweet Jesus," Simon breathed. "It's his right leg. He has a steel rod through it."

Ellison's fumbling hands finally found his Guide's clammy face and brushed the damp curls off it. "Blair? Can you hear me, buddy? Blair, I need you to wake up now."

To Simon's utter amazement, it worked and the younger man blinked blearily up at them.

"Jim? Hey man, they got you out. You shouldn't be here, you need to see a doctor. Simon!" The student seemed to notice the other man for the first time. "Take him to the hospital. Head injury...vision.." The weak voice died away.

"Wrong, Chief," Ellison's voice was as tender as Banks had ever heard it. "We need to see doctors."

Simon dashed over to the pilot returning with a frown. "The rescue unit is still twenty minutes away."

Jim looked up in anguish. "I'm not sure he'll make it, sir. His heart is skipping beats."

"Then we'll take him in the copter. Give him to me." Simon carefully lifted the limp body. Jim stumbled along behind, unsuccessfully trying to will his vision back to normal.

As soon as they reached the craft, Jim climbed in to the back, sitting on a long bench there. Simon positioned Blair in his detective's lap, carefully lifting the injured leg to rest on the seat.

Jim never knew how long the trip took, later he could only remember holding his friend, softly touching the slack features, endlessly repeating, "Hold on. Blair. You can make. You'll be fine. You can't leave me now, I need you", until he realized they were on the ground and an orderly was lifting his change onto a stretcher.

"I've got him now, sir. We'll take care of him."

Ellison started to argue when Simon spoke. "Let them do their job, Jim. The kid needs their help."

Suddenly Jim found himself the center of a whirl of activity. He was helped into a wheelchair and delivered to an exam room where his vitals were taken and he was examined from head to toe before being sent for x-rays and a CAT scan. Repeated pleas and demands to be taken to Blair received only gentle reminders to that everything possible was being done and he needed to let them do their jobs, a phrase that was rapidly sending him into apoplexy.

Finally back in his cubicle and blessedly alone for the first time, Jim turned up the dial on his hearing, searching for the comfort of his Guide's heartbeat. Then turned the volume up yet again when he failed to find the usually comforting rhythm.

"Nurse," he bellowed, lunging off the gurney only to slam into Simon entering from the hall.

"Whoa there, Cowboy. Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Where is he, Simon? Where's Blair? I don't hear his heart." Jim's fingers were talons digging into his captain's arms.

"Settle down. He's alive. You can't hear him, because he isn't here anymore. Ouch! Jim, let up on the grip." Simon pried the fingers from their painful hold, but didn't let go. "I swear, Jim. He's alive. But the injury was too severe for a small rural hospital like this. They stabilized him, started transfusions and med-evacked him to Cascade General. They have the technology there to remove the rod without causing further damage."

Jim swayed lightly on his feet prompting Simon to lead him back to the table where he slumped in momentary despair. "Do you still have the police shopper? We can leave..."

"'Fraid not, Detective, ah, Ellison." A young Native-American doctor, entered the room. The man's round face and prominent cheek bones proclaimed his heritage, as did the intricately woven leather tie that contained his jet black ponytail. "You are going upstairs to a nice bed and a long, long nap." The doctor flicked a penlight across his patient's eyes, nodding in approval at what he saw. "Good, good. Your irises are responding to light. How much can you see?"

"Light, dark...some blurry large shapes. I'm sorry, Doc - if you are my Doc..."

"Oh, permit me. Dr. Ben YoungBlood. Resident." Taking Jim's hand in a firm shake, the doctor then turned to Simon. "I understand you are Mr. Ellison's superior. The nurses informed me that he's been rather vocal about rejoining his partner. I can sympathize but I'm asking your help here."

Simon looked puzzled but nodded. "Of course, Doctor. How can I help?"

YoungBlood turned back to Jim. "Officer, you've received a fairly serious head injury. Our scans show a large subdural hematoma. That's what caused your blindness. It's beginning to be reabsorbed, that's why you have gotten some limited vision back, but you need to be kept quiet until it's dissipated or you run the risk of permanent damage. There's no question of you being any more mobile than you have been already, and..." in response to Jim opening his mouth to interrupt, "If you argue with me, I'll sedate you."

Jim started. "Is it that serious? I feel fine, Doc. Just a headache and dizzy."

"I'd wager it's considerably more than 'just a headache' and that you're nauseous too. Yes, it is serious enough for me to force you to stay."

"You don't have to force him, Doctor. He'll stay- without a hassle, won't you, Jim?" Simon's voice was deceptively soft but Jim heard the lethal undercurrent. A hassle was the very least of what he was considering but finally he nodded.

"Just no sedation, okay, Doc? I don't react well to a lot of drugs. How long do I have to stay?"

"We'll do scans daily, but I'd expect you to have to sight back and be discharged in three to four days."

Simon noticed the twitch starting to jump in his officer's jaw and jumped in to distract him. "So, while they get you settled upstairs, Jim, I'll call Brown and Rafe and get them over to General to check on Blair. We'll keep close tabs on him. He's one of ours even if he can raise my blood pressure fifteen points in as many seconds."

Jim smiled weakly and allowed himself to be shifted to a wheelchair for the transfer to a private room. To his dismay, as soon as the nurse had him tucked in, he found himself falling into an exhausted sleep.

Blinking awake, sometime later, he smelled Simon's distinctive cigar scent in the room with him. "Simon?"

"Right here, Jim. I was beginning to think I'd have to leave before you woke up."

"Why? What time is it?" Jim wondered when his voice had gotten so raspy.

"It's eleven am of the day after you were brought in. Your doctor said your body need to rest so they let you sleep." Amusement that Jim had slept almost twenty-four straight hours tinged his captain's voice.

"The day after I ...Blair! How's Blair?" Jim was appalled.

"Take it easy. I spoke with Rafe twenty minutes ago. The kid came through surgery just fine. He's in the ICU until they get his blood volume back up and his fever down."

Jim struggled to sit up. "Fever. What fever? What's wrong, besides the leg?"

"Detective Ellison, if you don't calm down, your doctor will banish me and slip you a mickey. Sandburg had an open wound for almost twenty-four hours, a good part of that spent lying in a filthy, rubble strewn basement. Infection was a given." Simon used the remote unit to raise the head of the hospital bed, allowing Jim to lean back but still be fairly upright. "You have to trust me on this, Jim. Sandburg is in guarded condition but his doctors expect him to pull through. They won't know how much permanent damage has been done to his leg until he can get up on it."

Jim slumped back against the pillows. "I hate this , Simon. He was hurt again because of me. And if that's not bad enough, he had to haul himself out of that rathole and somehow drive himself to get help. A big help his 'Blessed Protector' was!"

Wincing at the grief and disgust in his friend's voice, Simon reached out with a comforting hand. "That's enough for that. The kid was with you because he chose to be. By this time, he certainly knows the risks. As to the rest of it, you did what you could. Blair knows that. He won't blame you for this!"

"No he won't! He'll turn it into his fault, somehow. He was already doing it while we were still trapped." Jim started to shout then moderated his volume as pain blossomed in his head. "This isn't about collecting data for his dissertation or even keeping me from zoning anymore. He's given me enough tools to keep from serious problems in most situations. He told me once, "It's about friendship", but this goes way past that." Looking up cautiously, Jim tried to gauge his oldest friend's reaction.

To his utter amazement, Simon laughed in his face. "Well, it's about time you're catching on. I was seriously considering revoking your detective credentials, you've been so clueless."

"But, how did you - when - I mean..." Jim sputtered to a stop when Simon raised a hand.

"Look, Jim. As your boss it's none of my business how you conduct your personal life as long as it's legal. As your friend, I couldn't be happier at how this long-haired kid has mellowed you and given you back a life worth living."

Jim nodded, gratefully, then to his great embarrassment, yawned in his friend's face. Taking the hint, Simon prepared to leave. "Your doctor told me if I tired you, he'd ban me from visiting at all. You go back to sleep. I'm going to check on Blair then hit my desk before they declare me AWOL and give it back to Finkleman. I'll be back later. Will you be all right, all alone?" He lowered his voice, looking around surreptitiously. "You know, the zoning thing?"

"I'll be fine, sir. I just want to sleep. My senses aren't back one hundred percent so I doubt I'll have a problem."

Over the course of the next forty-eight hours, Jim slept, laid motionless for more CAT scans, slept more and constantly pestered the nursing staff to call for progress reports on Blair. The reports, when they came were not reassuring. Sandburg remained in Intensive Care fighting the infection, his condition neither improving nor deteriorating. Simon visited daily, bringing all the station gossip as well as the welcome news that the surviving members of the drug ring that started all this had been tracked down and arrested.

As Jim found his vision and senses returning and his need for sleep diminishing, he had more and more time on his hands.

Increasingly, his thoughts turned to Blair's slip in the basement. Contrary to the young man's apparent belief, the news that he was attracted to men as well as women came as no surprise to the experienced cop. The jolt had been finding out the Blair was in love with him. Jim had long had feelings for his young guide, but had always assumed, if nothing else, his size intimidated Blair. Now that he knew otherwise, he began planning the seduction.

Finally, on the morning of the fourth day, Simon walked into the hospital room carrying a duffel bag, just as Dr. YoungBlood finished his exam.

"All right, Detective Ellison. I told you if you were a good patient and rested, everything would be fine. Your hematoma has been completely reabsorbed, your vision is normal again and you can leave as soon as you get dressed. No exertion for another week and try to avoid straining your eyes."

"No problem, Doctor." Simon, grinning widely, broke in. "The detective has the next two weeks off. And I assure you, he'll behave." Turning to Jim he frowned. "That's an order!"

"Of course, Sir. Now -" Jim snatched the bag, "- if you'll excuse me, I'll get dressed and go home to rest."

A long hour later, Jim finally relaxed in the front seat of Simon's car. "Are you going to take me to see Sandburg or do I have to sneak out of the loft as soon as you leave?"

Simon chuckled. "I figured as much. I'll take you there. Oh, good new. Blair was moved out of ICU this morning. I have him in a private room. You'll be able to visit more than five minutes at a time." Simon glanced over as if trying to make up his mind. "I need to warn you though. While he's much improved, the kid looks rough. He's lost more weight than he can afford, he's refusing all pain medication and I know they give him a sleeping pill every night, but I'd swear he hasn't slept. He doesn't talk except to ask about you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jim's jaw muscle began jumping.

"Because I knew you'd react this way and there wasn't a darn thing you could do. Hell, you couldn't even call him until he was dismissed from the ICU." Casually, Simon laid a comforting hand on his friend's rock hard shoulder. "Something is eating at the kid, Jim. Something he couldn't tell Rafe, or Henri or Joel or me. His doctors are stumped. Physically he's healing, slower than they'd like, but healing. Emotionally?" The captain shrugged. "He's not himself. There's no spark."

Jim pushed open the door to Room 452, Cascade General only to stop dead in the doorway, appalled at the pale, thin body in the bed, right leg immobilized in traction. Not even Simon's warning had prepared him for this. Moving quietly to the side of the bed, Jim gazed down at this fragile roommate. Blair's forehead was creased with pain lines, dark circles bruising the tender skin beneath his eyes.

Slumping into a chair beside the bed, Jim stoked one finger along the back of Blair's hand. "Hey, Chief? You gonna sleep through my visit?"

Dull blue eyes blinked groggily then a weak smile spread across the student's face. "Jim? Oh God, you're alive. You're all right. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shhh. Shhh." Jim wiped away the tears coursing down his friend's face. "What do you mean 'I'm alive'. Of course, I'm alive. You knew that!"

"Yeah, but you had a serious head injury. Sometimes..." Not wanting to finish the thought, the student changed direction. "Anyway, Simon said you were okay, but the nurses said I'd been here four days and you never came or called...I thought he didn't want me upset till I was well again."

Jim moaned under his breath. No wonder Blair had been so despondent. He brushed a few stray curls off his partner's face. "They wouldn't let me call while you were in ICU and I couldn't visit because I was in a different hospital and they just let me out this morning."

Blair continued to look stricken. "Your eyes - is your sight all right? What about your senses? Oh man. I should have been there for you . I am like so sorry. Jim. If I'd listened and stayed outside..."

"I'd have been buried under part of the ceiling or stumbled against a live wire or managed to kill or seriously injure myself in that hole. You saved my life, Chief. You have nothing to be sorry for - except for not telling me how badly you were hurt. Why did you hide it?"

Blair looked baffled, not understanding why Jim couldn't see the obvious. "Because you were hurt, man, You needed to concentrate on you, not me. *You're* the Sentinel. Your survival is paramount for the tribe."

Gazing across into deep blue eyes, wide with sincerity, Jim could only shake his head. "What about the Guide's survival?"

"I've found nothing in my research to indicate a Sentinel can't function with another guide. And you're doing so well, Jim. You don't need me anymore. I was fighting the truth, but it's right there for anyone to see." Blair shrugged disconsolately. "You haven't had a zone in weeks, you did fine in the basement when you went off line. Hell, you apparently did just fine over the last week without me."

A gentle finger silenced the words.

"I don't know about sentinels and guides in general. I just know this Sentinel needs this Guide." The finger moved from lips to chest, pressing home the point. "You do so much more than bring me back when I zone. You teach me to link senses, you give me ideas on how to use them that would never occur to me. But more than that is the fact that I don't want another Guide. I want you!" Jim looked away, shaken with his outburst. "God, Chief, I'm no good at emotional bloodletting." A deep breath. "You told me once that it was about friendship. That was true then, but it's more now...at least on my part. And I thought, I hoped on yours."

When Jim finally stumbled to stop, Blair licked at dry lips, a glimmer of hope sparking in his eyes. "Say it, Jim. I know it's hard for you, but I've wanted, needed this for so long. Please, say the words."

"I love you, Blair. I need you in my life. Don't ever leave me."

A weak but dazzling smile was his reward. "I love you too, Jim. I'll stay as long you want me."

Jim pressed a chaste kiss to his love's lips, then shook his head. "No, this can't just be about my wants, Blair. That's not love, that's using, and I won't do that to you. If you don't want this as much as I do..."

This time it was Blair's trembling finger doing the silencing. "There's nothing in my life that I want more than this." The teaching fellow was horrified when his heartfelt declaration was followed by a huge yawn. He blushed hotly and stammered an apology when Jim silenced him again with a much less chaste kiss.

"Ahem."

Both men started at he sound of Captain Banks clearing his throat. Jim broke the kiss but took a firm grasp of Sandburg's hand as he settled back in the chair. Blair gaped in dismay.

"I hardly think this is what your doctor had in mind when he released you to bed-rest, Detective."

Blair's eyes rounded. "You didn't tell me that!" Gaze shifting back and forth between the two officers, Blair continued, obviously upset. "Take him home, Simon. Make him do what the doctor said. Can you stay with him till I get out of here? No of course you can't . What about Stephen? Jim, you could call..."

Jim and Simon exchanged amused looks before the Sentinel again used a kiss to quiet the patient.

"Son of a gun, it works. Wish you'd discovered this way of shutting him up long ago!" Simon laughed heartily.

"You seem to be under a mistaken impression here, Sandburg." Ellison scowled. "I. Am. Fine. Head, eyes, senses -- everything is fine. You, on the other hand need to start eating and sleeping and cooperating with your doctor if you ever want out of here."

"Yes, Jim."

The soft concession halted Jim as no tirade would have. "Yes Jim?" he repeated incredulously. "Just that simple?"

"Don't get used to it, but this time, yep. Just that simple." Blair blinked fuzzily, trying unsuccessfully to stay awake.

Jim tucked the light covers more securely over the younger man. "Let go, Chief. Get some rest. I'll be back in time to make you eat your supper." Soft snores could be heard before the visitors left the room.

Even with Blair's wholehearted cooperation, it was still another four days before he was released to his partner's care with strict orders about exertion, use of crutches and physical therapy requirements for his healing leg.

As a special welcome home, Jim had prepared tongue, a gesture that touched his roommate deeply, causing him to eat almost enough to satisfy his self-appointed nursemaid.

After the dishes were done and the kitchen cleaned to his exacting standards, Jim joined his soon-to-be lover on the couch, snuggling, smoothly fitting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The Jag game soon lost its audience as Jim began nuzzling the silky hair tucked under his chin, eventually working his way to the tender skin just behind his victim's ear. Blair's low moan of desire sent a frisson of desire straight to Ellison's cock which hardened instantly. The bigger man tried to shift away, hiding the evidence of his arousal but his sharp-eyed guide had already seen.

"Is that for me?" Blair crowed in delight, reaching out to finger the prominent bulge just as Jim twisted away from the searching hands.

"Blair, stop that. A little passive necking is one thing. But I'm fairly sure your doctor would object to you fucking on the couch your first night home."

"You're right." Blair grabbed his crutches, levering himself heavily off the couch. Jim couldn't resist the pang of disappointment that his lover could drop their intimacy so readily and watched dispiritedly as the figure hobbled across to - to - the stairs?

Awkwardly, Blair balanced on the crutches as he lifted himself to the first step. In a leap and a bound that would do Clark Kent proud, Jim was at his friend's side, effortlessly scooping up the smaller man. "Just where do you think you're going?"

"Up to bed, man. Necking on the couch is fine, but I want our first time to be special. Unless you've...Oh!" Blair's face burned with embarrassment as he struggled to make the bigger man put him down. "I'm sorry. I thought we...I mean, I'll just go to my room."

Jim tightened his grip then inclined his head to capture and silence his panicked Guide's lips. "Shhh, Babe. I haven't changed my mind - and I never will. I meant you're not allowed to climb stairs."

"Oh." Blair grinned then sighed in disappointment. "Okay. Put me down and I'll go to my room. Hopefully, if I do good in therapy, I'll be allowed upstairs in a few weeks."

"Brat." In seconds, Jim had them both the upstairs, gently settling his charge on the bed where he wasted no time in unveiling the lithe body he lusted after. Almost as an afterthought, he stripped of his own clothes, an act thoroughly appreciated by his audience.

"Do you have any idea, " Blair murmured appreciatively, "how many dreams and fantasies have starred you standing naked over me?"

"Probably about as many as starred you, lying beside me, allowing me to lick your nipples into aching, hard little peaks."

A surprisingly strong grasp yanked Ellison down onto the bed. Only a deft twist at the last moment allowed him to avoid crushing the smaller man. "I don't know about you, Chief," Jim said dryly. "But I'd prefer not to have to put this on hold while we take you the ER to restitch your leg."

Blair giggled and pressed himself against the firm, gorgeous body he'd desired for so long. Jim grinned at the wanton act then gasped as their cocks brushed together for the first time. Overwhelmed at the profound feeling, Blair began a frantic grind, until his partner took him by the shoulders and separated their bodies.

"Come on, Jim. I've awaited so long..." Blair struggled to resume the frottage until Jim kissed him lightly.

"Blair, listen to me. You're supposed to take it easy. This is too strenuous." Another kiss forestalled the beginning argument. "Let me love you, Babe. Let me show you how good I can make you feel."

Jim accepted the groan as consent and began a leisurely tour of his Guide's body using lips and tongue, tasting, nibbling, sucking...until Blair began to writhe under the attentions, prompting Jim to switch tactics again.

Turning Blair easily on to his left side, Jim propped a pillow under the healing leg, then shifting around, stretched out along side, his head positioned at his lover's groin. A deep sniff imprinted the distinctive scent forever in his mind before his tongue snaked out to run the length of rock hard erection, then drew it in to suck lightly. In moments, Blair began a frantic thrusting into the deliciously warm, wet cavern. Jim regretfully caught his hips and held them motionless.

"Let me do the work," he whispered, then deep-throated the steely rod.

Blair yelped from the intense sensations then retaliated by sucking in the rampant cock bouncing in front of his face.

Jim moaned his pleasure, the vibrations transferring to Blair's already oversensitive shaft. As much as both men would have preferred a long, thorough session of lovemaking, neither was capable of resisting further. As Jim began swallowing repeatedly, Blair tumbled over the edge into a glorious orgasm. The knowledge that his love responded so passionately to his actions drove Jim to his own completion.

Not even waiting for his breath to steady, Jim swung around and gathered the boneless body of his lover into his arms. He settled the sweat-soaked head snugly into the hollow of his shoulder, and used long slow strokes to gentle the still trembling man.

"Jim?" Blair mumbled sleepily.

"Hmmm?"

"You know how I feel about sleeping pills."

Puzzled at the non-sequitur, Jim answered regardless. "I know, babe, but the Doc said you need to rest. I'll get the pill in a minute here."

"No need, man. I've found a natural replacement." "Oh?"

A deep, contented sigh. "Oh yeah. You can do this any time you want to put me in a coma."

Jim chuckled as his Guide sank into a healing sleep. "I will Blair. For as long as you'll have me."

The end.