Title: Lost To Native Spirit

Author/pseudonym: Jemisard

Fandom: Sentinel

Paring: Jim/Blair

Rating: PG

Status: New, complete

Archive: If you ask nicely :)

Series/Sequel: Maybe

Disclaimers: They aren¹t mine. You know that. I¹m just borrowing them.

Notes: Thanks to Hanofer, Peja, Lee, Taryn for archiving my work.

Summary: Someone has gone native and a man wonders if his life is in danger.

Warnings: Violence, kind of.

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Lost to Native Spirit

by Jemisard

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As I lay here, staked out in the middle of the forest clearing, I keep asking myself, how did I let this happen? Why didn’t I notice sooner that something was seriously wrong?

Why couldn¹t I work it out?

I can’t move my head, it¹s being held by a leather band pegged in the ground on either side. I can hear though, and smell. There’s a fire, about a meter to my left, my hand is nearer it and can feel the warmth. It’s hot, and there’s metal being heated in it.

I can hear him now. He’s still mumbling quietly, I can’t hear him properly, the roar of the fire is deafening.

I don’t know why I didn’t fight him. No, that’s a lie, but I don’t know why I let him do this without a single word of protest.

He’s gone fully primitive on me. He was speaking Chopec before, I think hewas anyway. He’s wearing tribal paint, and keeps chewing some herb or other. I’m sure it can’t be doing him any good in this state, he’s already raving

about lights and the patterns of life.

I can hear him still, now sharpening one of the knives. I can’t help but shudder as I wonder what he plans to cut with it. I keep hoping that something in him will wake up. He’s never hurt me before, not physically.

He moves next to me and leans down. His eyes are unfocused, pupils dilated. Great, he’s stoned as well as crazy.

He smiles gently and strokes my face. He lets me sit up a little, enough to pour a foul tasting liquid down my throat. I choke on it slightly, it’s bitter, there’s some strange herb in it that’s causing my body to relax and numb.

I’m falling unconscious now, I can feel the blackness pressing on me. I’m fighting it as hard as I can, but I can’t keep going.

As my vision fails, I feel soft lips press on mine, and a hand stroke my face, reassuring me despite my predicament.

As I fall into unconsciousness, I feel hot metal press into me, and I realize that this time, nothing is going to stop this. My best friend, the man I love, has finally lost his mind.

Blair Sandburg is gone. My guide has been lost.

END