Jim spat out curse words as he jerked on the restraints circling his wrists. He could see the others doing the same. It was no use. Lanfers was too adept with ropes. He knew his way around knots.

"Back to back!" Jim ordered, scooting forward. Buck was already turned by the time Jim neared. Simon could only watch and wait while they worked on getting free.

"Who was that guy?" Buck demanded.

"Robert Lanfers, a marine with about a dozen years of service. He's that guy I told you about. He took Sandburg last summer, came onto the boat we were restoring," Jim said as he worked feverishly, fingers nearly numb from lack of circulation. "He knocked me out and stole Blair."

"Will he hurt him?"

"Maybe, not intentionally, but you just saw how quickly he can snap a neck. If Blair pisses him off..."

"We've got to go after them."

"I know... and we will. There! Feel that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Buck grunted. "Almost... got it."

Moving fast, Buck had himself out of the ropes and quickly released Jim, tending to Simon next.

"Damn that kid!" Simon exclaimed as the gag came out. "What was he playing at? He's going to end up dead!"

"He saved our lives, Simon," Jim answered tersely.

"How are we going to follow?" Simon attacked the ropes around his ankles. "The nearest vehicle is Buck's Jeep. That's twenty miles away!"

"We'll take the drift boat," Buck said. "We can take turns on the oars."

Jim nodded; it was a good plan. The way the road wound up and over the terrain, they might even manage to get to the Jeep in time to catch up. Kneeling next to the dead doctor, Jim quickly searched him. "Simon? Our guns?"

Free now, Simon stood. "Sorry, Jim." He looked down at the dead man. "They found them both. I think Durkin threw them away outside."

"Okay." Jim stood. "I'll see if I can sniff them out. You guys gather whatever you can find to use as weapons. I'll meet you down at the boat in five." He glanced down at himself. "We'd better change out of these waders. Warm clothes and hiking boots."

Five minutes and a few spare seconds later, they were ready. Jim took a look at the inventory Buck was loading. It would have to do; axes, rope, something that looked like a first aid kit and other equipment was being lashed down. All the fishing equipment had been tossed back up onto the shore, out of sight.

"Any luck, Jim?"

Jim shook his head, his lips pressed together unhappily. "No. What did you guys do with Durkin? I didn't see his body."

"We hauled him out to the shed," Buck answered. "He's safe from predators there. I couldn't take the chance of a hiker walking in and finding him."

"Good call." Jim steadied the boat while the others climbed aboard. Simon was in the middle. That made sense, too. The first part of the river was gentle, not much in the way of white water. They'd need Buck's expertise further down. "Ready? Here we go."

"Watch it!" Blair pressed his back hard against the seat, his legs braced out against the Ford's floor. "Shit!"

They missed going over the edge of the road by inches. Lanfers' driving was atrocious. He made Jim look like a little old lady on her way to a prayer meeting. If this kept up, they'd both be dead.

"Man! You've got to slow it down!" He risked a look at the driver. "You okay?"

Lanfers nodded; deep concentration lines marred his forehead. "We're fine."

"No, you're going too fast," Blair explained. "Why? No one's following us, remember? You're safe."

Lanfers didn't comment, but he did slow the Ford down, using the lower gears instead of hitting the brakes. The road was narrow and winding. Blair hadn't been afraid when Jim drove it, because he trusted the cop's ability to listen ahead. Jim knew if a car was due to appear around a blind corner. Lanfers? He wasn't so sure.

"So, ah... how're the senses?"

Lanfers flicked a glance at his passenger before returning his attention to the road. "No talking."

Ookay. Blair shifted. His arms were growing numb. And the little problem of not being buckled in resulted in a few bruises when he hit the door after an unexpected pothole. Once he even knocked sideways into Lanfers, who shoved him back impatiently.

"Could you at least untie me?" Blair asked after a few minutes. "I told you I wasn't going to try anything."

"Later. Now, shut up."

"Switch!" Buck called out.

Jim tucked the oars in and moved out of Buck's way as they swapped seats. The river up ahead tossed water around like a washing machine. Jim's arms ached from ten minutes of steady rowing. Muscles burned from abuse, but he didn't care. The boat had shot down the valley with impressive speed and he found himself counting the seconds until he could get his hands on the oars again.

"Hold on!" Buck warned as gallons of water poured over the port side. "Sorry!"

Jim was soaked. He raised a hand to wave off the apology. Nothing mattered anymore except getting to that Jeep. He took a moment to check his pocket for the keys, reassured by their presence. He looked at his watch. They'd been at this for more than forty-five minutes now. If Lanfers was pushing his speed, they might already be off the dirt road. There was another half hour of driving till he'd reach the highway.

The drift boat shot out of a bowl shaped depression and landed with a spine jarring slap. The shore line sped by. Jim pushed his hearing out, closing his eyes and envisioning the road above them. The sound of the river confused him, like static on a radio. The chill of his wet clothing helped to keep him from zoning as he dialed up his hearing.

There! He could hear the engine of his Ford.

"They're up there!" Jim called over his shoulder. "I can hear them."

Buck didn't have time to answer as he worked the oars to keep from smashing into the surrounding boulders. The boat's bottom scraped over the top of a rock, inches below the water line. They had hit so many, no one even flinched anymore.

"How far?" Simon called from the stern.

"Half a mile, maybe more."

Buck spoke, his words clipped. "Jeep's another twenty minutes."

Yes! They might make it!

Blair tried not to notice how close the Ford was getting to the road's edge. The valley floor was a long way down. Blair was beginning to feel sick to his stomach. Lanfers' driving left much to be desired and Blair was never so aware of a missing seatbelt in his life than right at that moment. The road twisted and turned, climbing almost to the ridge top before it would snake down to the valley floor again.

He remembered returning this way from the take out point yesterday. He and Jim had been joking around as they sat in the open bed of the Jeep. The afternoon had been warm and sunny and Blair had been basking in the glow of the fresh fishing memories. He closed his eyes.

It was incredible to think that had been just yesterday.

Eyes closed, Blair had no idea what had caused Lanfers to hit the brakes, sending the Ford into a four-wheel locked fear-frozen slide. Blair screamed. The Ford's left front fender dug into the dirt bank opposite the drop off and spun them around a full 180 degrees. Blair's head bounced sharply off the side window and he missed whatever skill Lanfers might have displayed getting the vehicle to a stop. Not that he cared; he was too busy counting stars.

"What the hell is your problem, man!" Blair demanded once the movement stopped, both inside his skull and out.

He never saw the fist coming, only the explosion of pain across his face that split his lower lip, sending large globs of bright blood into his lap. Blair groaned and slumped sideways against the door. Lanfers' breathing sounded loud and harsh in his ears. Blair wanted to sob and laugh at the same time.

Okay, rule number one with the new sentinel: don't criticize his driving.

Simon was on oar when they reached the take out. He muscled the boat high onto the bank and all three men bailed out, grabbed a piece of the metal boat and hauled as one. Jim was sure they could have picked it up and slammed it on the trailer that waited a few feet away.

"I'll unhitch. Get the stuff loaded." Buck ran for the parked jeep.

Simon gathered an arm full of equipment, fine trimmers visible in his long arms. "Did we beat them?"

Jim paused to listen. "Yeah... God, yeah! It's close, though."

They ran for the jeep, Jim ready with the key. Less than a minute later, they were bumping over the rough track toward the dirt road, drift boat and trailer left behind. Simon had squeezed in, crushing Jim into the middle. They needed to form a plan.

"Roadblock?" Simon said.

"How?" Buck asked.

"Drop a tree."

Jim shook his head. "Take too long."

"Fake a rock slide?"

Jim nodded, Buck's suggestion made sense. "Where?"

They reached the road. Simon instinctively rolled down his window and both men looked at Jim expectantly. Closing his eyes and ignoring the feeling that he was giving a performance, Jim listened. He followed the sound of the wind combing the trees up the valley, climbing higher until he could hear voices. The Ford wasn't moving.

"I told you to shut up," Lanfers' voice warned lowly.

A gurgle-like snort replied, then the crunch of tires moving on loose gravel.

"Little more than a mile, I'd guess," Jim reported, opening his eyes and nodding up the valley to the right.

Buck spun the wheel to the left and gunned it. "I know a place we can use."

"But how do we stay hidden?" Simon asked. "This guy's like Jim. He's going to hear us."

"I'm not sure he's mastered his abilities yet," Jim said.

"You heard Durkin, Jim. He was working with him. You said only Lanfer's touch and hearing were enhanced. What if Durkin got all five senses up and running?" Simon rolled up the window, as if the glass could help keep their conversation from being overheard.

"It took months of work with Blair to get where I'm at," Jim explained. "But, just in case, I've got an idea. How far's the spot, Buck?"

"Eight minutes, tops."

Lanfers slowed the Ford down. Blair opened his eyes. What now? They'd managed to get off the ridge and down onto the valley's floor in one piece. They'd sailed by the takeout location several minutes ago. The road would soon be climbing up and over the ridge to drop into the valley on the other side, where the paved road waited.

Then what?

Blair didn't want to think about it. He concentrated on the problem at hand. Part of the earthen embankment next to the road had broken free and dumped several rocks. Even though the Ford had four-wheel drive, those rocks were large enough to damage its undercarriage or pop a tire.

"Cut me loose, man," Blair urged. "I'll help."

To Blair's surprise, Lanfers did. The sudden freedom to wipe his battered face was interrupted by a fierce `fist-in-the-hair' yank sideways. Lanfers' deadly eyes were inches from Blair's.

"You swore you wouldn't run."

Swallowing awkwardly in his current position, Blair managed a slight nod. "I won't. I keep my promises."

"You'll do what I say. When I say."

Time for a little assertiveness. "Listen. I'm not helping you hurt anyone. Got it? Otherwise, you're the boss." He put as much bravado as he could summons into his short speech. He was serious, too. He wasn't going to be part of anyone getting hurt, unless it was him of course. Miraculously, the fingers relaxed and Lanfers got out. Blair opened the door and eased out onto the road.

The sun was still behind the mountain peaks to the east, but the morning sky was bright. The day promised to be nicer. Blair kept his mind blank. It was weird. Under normal circumstances he'd be thinking up ways to get away. But he'd made a promise. He concentrated on the biggest boulder that blocked their path. Leaning over at his waist, Blair pushed, managing to get enough momentum to roll it off the road and out of the way.

As Blair headed toward the next rock, Lanfers suddenly looked up from his own job, spun on his heel, and yanked his gun free from the waistband of his jeans.

"NO!" He fired the gun at Blair.

SHIT! Blair dropped down to his hands and knees in the dirt, feeling the bullet whine over his head. He realized Lanfers wasn't shooting at him, but at something above him.

"Blair! Run!" Simon's voice bellowed from the tree line.

"Get back in the Ford!" Lanfers ordered. He fired again into the trees. He was ducking rocks being thrown at him.

Blair knew Simon and Jim didn't have the means to fire back. Durkin had dropped their guns into the pit toilet or something as bad. Besides, if Jim had a gun, Lanfers would be dead by now. Blair hesitated. The longer they stayed here, the better the chance someone he cared about would be hurt. Besides, Blair had made that stupid promise.

He ran for the open door of the Ford, climbing in just as Lanfers closed his own door. They managed to drive over the bigger rocks with only a few hits to the oil pan. Then they were past the trap and Blair turned to stare back through the rear window. Jim and Simon had run out into the road and started running hard after them.

"Jim, please don't. He'll kill you guys," Blair whispered.

Blair turned back to look ahead again, they were coming around a curve. Blair knew Jim would have had a back up plan. Uncle Buck's Jeep suddenly appeared. Blair recognized Buck behind the wheel as the vehicle pulled out from an opening in the brush. Lanfers gunned the engine.

"No!" Blair braced himself, arms straight, holding onto the dash.

The Ford was heavier than the Jeep. Lanfers knew enough to aim for the light part, the Jeep's empty bed. Metal mashed metal. The Jeep spun around. Even braced, Blair bounced forward, hit the dash and fell back against his seat. He had a glimpse of the Jeep and Uncle Buck's angry face as they zoomed pass before his world went black.

"Buck!"

Jim reached the Jeep a second before Simon. Buck had the door open and leaned drunkenly out, a moment away from falling. Jim caught his shoulder and held him in.

"Easy."

Simon went to the Jeep's rear tires. "If we're lucky, we can bend the metal back, change this tire and go after them."

"I'm okay. The tools we need are behind the seat," Buck said, pushing Jim's hands away from the small bleeding cut above his eyebrow. "What happened? I saw Blair in the Ford."

Jim helped him locate the tire iron and a prybar. Buck seemed to be moving okay. He'd obviously had his bell rung but he was keeping it together. "Robert must've seen me. I know that white noise generator was working. I couldn't hear a thing. Damn, I'll have to run back and get it before we leave."

"Blair?" Buck asked again.

Simon sighed. "I told him to run. Lanfers had me pinned with gunfire. I couldn't grab him. He got back in."

Buck shook his head. "I knew it."

"Yeah," Jim agreed. He almost had the mangled tire free from the crushed metal. Simon stood ready with the tire iron, like the pit crew of a race team. "Sandburg doesn't make promises lightly. We're going to have to play the part of the wild horses and drag his ass away."

"You got to be kidding," Simon said in wonder. "No one expects a promise to a killer to be kept."

Jim stood. The Jeep looked like crap, but the tire was free. Simon moved in to start on the lugs. Jim moved to help Buck in the task of freeing the spare tire from underneath the bed. "To Blair, he's a sick sentinel who needs help. Besides, that kid would sell his soul to Satan personally if it meant keeping us from getting killed."

Simon grunted angrily as the last lug resisted his efforts. The spare was down and looked okay. Jim watched him almost rip the thing off. He knew most of the anger was from frustration. They had to be careful as they removed the damaged tire. The sharp edges of torn metal could lay open their arms and hands.

"The axle looks okay," Buck commented. He looked at Jim. "Did you want to grab that white noise box?"

"Be right back." Jim ran for the ambush location.

When he got back, Buck and Simon had the spare tire in place. One of the lug nuts had been stripped, but they didn't care. Soon they were back in the jeep. Jim had gotten behind the wheel without asking permission. Buck didn't say a word.

Simon slammed the door. "Let's go get that damn kid."

"Hi-ho, Silver," Buck muttered under his breath.

Jim smiled grimly. "Away."

Any other time, Blair would have said something. Driving the Ford like this just guaranteed they'd be walking. What difference did it make? Blair's brain hurt too much to care.

Just then the engine died. Lanfers cursed like the marine he used to be as they drifted to a stop. He spent a few seconds turning the engine over. His efforts did nothing to start the dying Ford. Finally with an explosive shout of frustration, Lanfers slammed both palms on the steering wheel.

Blair couldn't help but press against his door. When the man turned to look at him, Blair held up a hand. "Easy, just relax, okay?"

"Get out!"

Blair fumbled for the door handle. "Sure, let's just stay calm."

Lanfers did seem to calm down as he systematically went though the back of the Ford. He found Jim's cache of emergency supplies. That seemed to settle him down. One of Blair's old backpacks had been used to house an elaborate first aid kit. Blair watched quietly as Lanfers dumped some of the aid supplies out. They spilled over the back of the Ford, some dropping onto the road. A few water bottles and military food rations that Jim called REM or RME, something like that, were shoved inside.

"Can I have a coat?" Blair could see the sleeve of an old canvas coat with a quilted lining sticking out from a tool box. When Lanfers nodded, he reached in carefully and pulled it out. It wasn't cold now, but Blair had a feeling he'd need it for later. As he started to thread an arm through the first sleeve, Lanfers stopped him with a small push.

"What?"

Another push and Blair was leaning against the corner of the Ford, silently enduring a thorough pat down. His pocket knife was found in his jean pocket and taken away.

"Let's go." Lanfers pointed.

"We're not going to follow the road?" Blair asked as he finished putting on the coat.

"No," Lanfers answered. "Move out."

Great. Blair looked up. They were close to the top of the ridge line, but the slope was steep. His tennis shoe sank into the loose dirt and slid back down, starting a mini landslide. Lanfers scrambled up the bank with ease.

Just great. Another long-legged guy to keep up with. Blair used his hands for extra traction, managing to reach the top of the slope and get into the trees where the ground still tilted up but found it was easier to walk. Lanfers went ahead, not bothering to look back. Blair wondered if that was a good sign. Was he finally starting to trust him? Nah, more likely he would keep an `ear' on Blair. So far, Lanfers had shown equal ability to Jim's.

Jim.

No way would he give up. Yet it looked like Lanfers was winning. Uncle Buck's Jeep couldn't be drivable anymore, not after that hit. How long until he'd see Jim, Simon and Uncle Buck again? Blair allowed his thoughts to explore possible outcomes. Best case scenario - he could get Lanfers to see how wrong this was and the guy would turn himself in to the police.

Blair rolled his eyes. Yeah, make up another, dummy. Worse case scenario, Lanfers gets cornered and someone dies. Shit! Blair could not let that happen. Maybe if he continued to help this guy, keep him on an even keel - what's up with the sudden sailboat speak? - then Lanfers would learn to manage on his own. Surely he'd let Blair leave after that happened. All he wants is control in dealing with his enhanced senses.

They were climbing steadily. It was obvious Lanfers could easily out walk Blair. It was no walk in the park. Blair ducked, dodged and scrambled over obstacles to keep up. Windblown trees littered the ground. Lush groundcover of sword ferns and Oregon Grape slowed them down. Thick moss pelts hung everywhere; some bright green, others stringy and green-grey.

Willing to let his mind dwell on issues that weren't as grim as the current situation, Blair searched his memory for the name of the stringy moss. Last year he had dated a woman working for a degree in forestry. They'd taken long walks in the Cascades. What had she called it? Something to do with an animal.

He had it: Goat's Beard Moss.

Blair ran into Lanfers' back. "Oomph, sorry."

Lanfers was in the act of removing the pack from his back. He glanced dismissively at Blair as he unzipped a side pocket and removed a water bottle. After he took a few deep drinks, he wiped the top and handed it to Blair.

"Thanks." Blair hadn't meant to sound so surprised, but - well, he was. He drank his fill and handed the now nearly empty bottle back. The exchange gave him courage. "Can I ask you something?"

Lanfers didn't pause in the task of returning the water, then shouldered the pack.

Blair would accept that as a yes. "How did Durkin help you?"

Lanfers snorted. "He didn't."

"What?"

Lanfers shared a humorless smile. This time when he started walking, he matched Blair's pace and they walked side by side. The forest was thinning out as they gained altitude. "He came around, asking about you and Ellison. He figured us out. Said he could get me out. So I played along."

"So, you're saying your other three senses aren't enhanced?" Blair asked, attention totally on Lanfers now.

When the ex-marine grabbed his arm a split second before Blair's tennis shoe hit an exposed root that threatened to nose plant his face, Blair was reminded of Jim. Only when he was in Lanfers' hold, he couldn't help but be mildly creeped out. It was as if his skin crawled.

"They are. All five are strong now. But that started happening before he showed up." Lanfers released him. "Watch the ground. You've already taken too many blows to the head." His eyes fell on Blair's swollen and split lip. He grimaced. "Sorry I hit you. I'm not good at using two senses at the same time. I need quiet."

"Oh." Blair watched his feet as they hiked. His mind was racing with new ideas. What had caused Lanfers to activate all five senses? After all these years?

Lanfers continued to talk. Like a damn that burst, he seemed content to share. "I didn't want to kill Durkin, either. But, I couldn't let him shoot you. I thought he just wanted Ellison. Take him to China. I didn't know he was going to kill you, too."

" You saved my life, man. For that, I'm thankful. But why go through all this to find me? I wasn't kidding back there. Your doctors were serious. I'm not part of your cure."

"Then they're all idiots. Anyway, they didn't have a clue what we are. They wanted to make these senses go away. I want control, that's why I need you."

"No, you don't. I can teach you to - "

"It's easier to just have you with me," Lanfers interrupted harshly. "Why do things the hard way? With these senses I'm unstoppable. There are battles on every continent. I have the training. We can get the weapons. There are groups that would pay small fortunes to hire us."

Blair's world tilted. "W-what?" He hadn't realized he'd stopped until Lanfers was several feet in front of him, frowning back. Blair swallowed. Where had all the moisture gone? "I'm n-not a soldier, man."

Lanfers' face turned hard. "You are now. You gave me your word back at that cabin. I let your friends live, understand? You will hold up your end of the bargain. You're at my side from now on."

Blair now understood the expression `blank slate' because his mind had just turned into one. Shock had disengaged all ability to speak.

One thing was painfully obvious. He had sorely underestimated the worst case scenario.

"My Ford!" Jim slammed his foot down on the brake. They'd had a few false starts and lost valuable time. The Jeep ran like the cripple it was. Had the vehicle been a horse, they would have shot it out of kindness. Twice they'd had to stop and adjust the rear body as the road twisted the frame and threatened to shred the spare tire. Jim drove with the side mirror turned to give a view of the damaged area.

"They must've broken down," Simon said.

Searching the area carefully, Jim reached his conclusion. He looked up the mountainside, knowing they were near the top. "He didn't follow the road."

"Can you hear him?" Buck whispered.

"No, they're over the ridge." Jim bit his lip. What should they do? He went to the passenger side and opened the door. The smell of blood was strong. Dark spots stained the seat's fabric. Shit.

"Looks like he found your supplies, Jim." Simon called from the back.

"If he reaches a home in the next valley, he could steal a car," Buck said. He absentmindedly rubbed his left elbow.

"We need help," Simon declared. "We've got a vehicle right now, Lanfers doesn't. We have time. Let's get some back up."

Buck shook his head. "We've got a chance to track them now. We could lose them if we don't follow."

Jim held up a hand. "We'll do both. I'll go after Blair. You two notify the authorities. I don't care who, either. A dozen armed hunters sounds good to me right now."

"I should go with you," Buck said.

"No, you're hurt." Jim pointed toward the injury on Buck's head. "Even if you don't want to admit it. If you go down on me, I won't be able to go after Sandburg."

"He'll hear you coming," Simon pointed out.

"I'll use the white noise generator. I should have enough battery life left." Jim walked to the back. "Did he leave anything I can use?"

Buck still didn't look happy. "Then take Simon with you. I'll go for help by myself."

"Listen," Jim said with a sigh. He settled his Jags cap firmly on his head as he tried to find a nice way to say what he wanted. "Don't take this wrong, okay? But I move best alone. It was like that for me in Peru. I need to move fast, without any noise."

Buck nodded, some of his unhappiness waning. "Rigged for silent running, right?"

"Exactly." Jim smiled. "Hopefully I'll have Lanfers in custody and Blair driving me nuts by the time you two arrive with reinforcements."

When Lanfers reached the ridge he took them over the top and started angling to the east. Blair followed, his mind still numb. Life as a mercenary - it should provide an interesting line on his resume. He fought an urge to laugh out loud.

Wait until his mother found out.

When Lanfers had admitted his plan, Blair had staged a one-man sit in. The ex-marine had squatted down in front of Blair and calmly promised to drag him out of the forest and systematically kill Buck, Simon, Jim and half the student body at Rainier if he didn't get his sorry ass up and fall into line. That pretty much ended the mutiny on the spot.

Lanfers' announcement had been a conversation stopper as well. He didn't share any further tales of his past year at the hospital and Blair was okay with that. He didn't care anymore. His mind was too busy working. What he needed was a loophole. A way out of the promise he'd made.

They made decent time going downhill. The forest became dense again as they dropped off the ridgeline. It was midday and Blair was getting hungry. Last night's baked fish was another lifetime ago. The wind was picking up, sending clouds from the west. Lanfers looked at the sky a few times and frowned, like he expected a weather change.

The terrain was changing again. Blair could see they were definitely going deeper into the rainforest. The Olympic Peninsula was a large block shape with the Olympic mountain range in the middle. Highway 101 skirted along the edges forming a large circle. Numerous roads forked off the highway and climbed into the mountains but dead ended. To Blair's knowledge, the only way to completely traverse the mountain range was on foot. So why was Lanfers heading into the mountains?

Blair never saw what caught his foot, but he had a nice view of the ground as it rushed up to smack him in the face. Spitting out moss, he rolled slowly onto his side. God, he was exhausted.

And hungry.

And totally fed up with his current situation.

Muscles that had been screaming at him to rest refused to cooperate. Blair stayed on his side, eyes closed, breathing heavily through his mouth. He didn't have to look up to know Lanfers was standing over him, probably in disgust. He waited for the kick or the harsh command to get up or more death threats to those Blair cared about.

But none of it happened. When Blair's heart finally slowed down and his breathing was back under control, he opened his eyes to see Lanfers sitting, legs crossed. The man was rooting through the backpack. He looked up and produced one of those dark green flat, square-shaped things.

"Might as well eat."

Food? Blair could move for food. He sat up and accepted the offering. Although Blair might not remember the name for these military packages, he'd eaten enough while on field trips. Most of them had been past their expiration date. It was all he could afford. But Jim must have had a memory for updating his, because these weren't anything like what Blair remembered. The crackers were fresh and the chocolate bar didn't have the white stuff on it.

Lanfers was watching him as they ate. "I'm not going to make a long career out of being a merc, you know. Just enough to build enough to live on. I'll even let you pick the country we'll settle down in, within reason. I like warm climates."

Blair refused to talk about it. He knew what the man was doing and didn't want to play the game.

"So, if what I'm called is a Sentinel, what do they call you?"

In the process of sucking the peanut butter directly from the package, Blair nearly dropped it from his fingers. "What?"

"Your position, what's it called?"

"I'm not... There is no position, man. I'm nothing."

Lanfers frowned. "Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not."

"You said you studied this stuff."

"I do." Wiping his chin for any stray crumbs or threads of peanut butter, Blair continued. "I'm an anthropologist, that means I - "

"I know what it means," Lanfers growled. "I'm not stupid."

"Not saying you are. Anyway, my point is I found out about sentinels from an old book. I'm doing a paper on them. That's all."

But Lanfers didn't seem to believe him, if the frown was any indication. "Tell me this; why do I sometimes have problems when I use my senses? I power off or something. Everything fades."

Most of the meal was done, but Blair made a point to check the plastic package carefully, his eyes down. "Couldn't tell you.'

Lanfers moved like a rattle snake and Blair was on his back, bent painfully over a mound of dirt with Lanfers above him. He didn't have time to protest before he felt his right hand grabbed. Something hard was pressed over the back of his hand above his knuckles and it tore a scream from him. Nerve endings burned like acid, shooting waves of pain up his arm and exploding into white-hot novas behind his eyes.

Just as fast as it started, the pain stopped. Lanfers turned his hand loose, but continued to press him into the mossy floor of the rainforest. Like an alpha wolf, he snarled down into Blair's face. "I can tell when you're lying! I know more ways to make you scream than you can imagine. And none leaves a mark! Don't lie to me again."

Jim smelled the MRE before he saw the discarded wrappers. He studied the evidence with satisfaction. Even though he was convinced he was on the right trail, it was nice to find proof. He glanced at the white noise generator clipped to his belt. Should he start using it? He'd been keeping track with his hearing, counting on the assumption if he couldn't hear Lanfers then the same was true in reverse. He hoped.

A small voice whispered. But Lanfers has Blair. Did that make a difference?

Another doubt surfaced. Should he have told Blair how important his role truly was to Jim's ability? They had talked about it up in Idaho last fall, but Blair had freaked out. The subject had not been broached a second time.

Jim shook off his worries. He didn't have time for them now. He was tracking a sentinel with military background. That was plenty to worry about. Getting Blair back was paramount.

The terrain was getting rugged again. For whatever reason, Lanfers had taken a course that kept them on the same altitude for the last half dozen clicks. What was his goal? They were entering a plateau between the ridge separating them from the valley Buck's cabin was in, and a drop off to the valley floor below. Jim eyed the drop off. If he could get in front...

Blair's hand still tingled. That was hours ago. What if his nerves were permanently damaged? Would his typing speed be slower? He huffed softly as he followed in Lanfers' wake. What did it matter? Something told him his new life wouldn't involve hours in front of the keyboard.

The wind was really starting to kick a fuss. It sifted through the trees above, sounding like muted waterfalls. Blair bunched the front of the coat tightly around his neck, it was getting cold. He'd been walking mindlessly for a while now. Not really caring where they were going. He kept his eyes on the back of Lanfers' boots. If the man lifted a foot to step over some obstacle, then Blair did the same.

So when Lanfers' boots suddenly froze, Blair knew to stop. He looked up, blinking like an idiot at his kidnapper. Lanfers had slipped out of his pack again. His face had a look of intense concentration that caused the hairs on the back of Blair's neck to stand up. The man pulled out two familiar looking long plastic strips. Lanfers must have found them with Jim's supplies.

"No!" Blair took a step back. "I'm not doing anything wrong, man."

"Shut up." Lanfers dropped the pack and caught Blair's arm. He shook it hard. "Hold them out."

Blair obeyed, but not without an argument. "What'd I do? I'm not - ouch! Watch it!"

The flex cuff bit into his wrists. Lanfers towed him over to a sturdy looking Yew tree. He took the second flex cuff and threaded it through Blair's bound wrists and over a low branch. The result being, Blair couldn't move from the tree, his hands a few inches above his head.

Realization flashed like a strobe on a camera.

Jim.

"Jim!" Blair yelled as loud as he could. "He's still got a gun!" Blair wanted to say more but he was busy. His mouth was dodging a red bandana. He lost as it was shoved between his teeth.

Lanfers' head twisted around as he worked, watching for his enemy. He attacked Blair's belt next, unbuckling it and sliding it free. Blair worked to spit out the cloth. Before he could manage it, the stiff leather of his belt was pressed between his swollen lips and Lanfers threaded the ends together behind his head, catching several strands of hair as he cinched it down.

Blair glared his best. Wishing looks could kill, just once - please, God.

Lanfers actually smiled at him. He patted Blair's cheek. "I can hear him. Be a good little sidekick while I go kill him, then I'll cut you free."

"Nggghhhhh!"

"Look at it this way, Blair," Lanfers said, a parting taunt. "The handkerchief is clean." He dodged Blair's attempted kick and pulled his gun from his waistband.

The tree was too large to break, too slippery to climb. Blair could only watch as Lanfers took off into the rainforest and quickly disappeared into its greenery.

Jim listened as Blair fought, his own anger growing, priming him, preparing him to carry out his plan. He was counting on Lanfers wanting Blair alive. Whatever the guy was doing to his friend would heal.

He hoped.

He could hear Lanfers coming now, running fast. Jim turned to check his stage. All the props were in place. If he pulled this off, he'd put in for an Oscar. He made one more check on the white noise generator on his belt. It wasn't going anywhere. And it was crucial to his plan.

A snapping sound warned him Lanfers was close.

Show time.

Standing up, he waited until he heard Lanfers steps slow, then stop all together. It was tricky, but he imagined himself in Lanfers' place and used his own skill to judge when the bullet would arrive. He ducked at the last possible moment, rewarded by the whistle of lead passing and the slower report from the gun as it fired.

Jim grunted as if hit then staggered. He dropped the act and ran low toward a nearby cliff where he'd already managed to drop a section of earth away, leaving a fresh scar along the edge. Slipping his watch from his pocket he threw it over, not watching as it disappeared into the trees below. He rolled a large broken section of a tree trunk off. It made a satisfying thud as it hit the ground below. Jim flipped the switch to the white noise generator and scuffed the edge a little more, adding to the damage. In a last minute decision, he tossed his cap over the edge, maybe it would hang up in a tree and Lanfers would spot it. He'd already laid a scent of blood from a shallow cut he'd made with his knife. Not too much, just a smear on the moss and rocks to leave more evidence for a sentinel.

A nearby cedar tree was waiting for him. Jim ran. He'd picked the tree for two reasons; it was bushy for hiding in and it was near another tree that had recently been broken and blown over. The dead tree was still partly connected to its truck about five feet off the ground. Jim already knew it would hold his weight, he'd checked. It made a perfect ladder and before Lanfers appeared on scene, Jim was safely hidden within the boughs of the cedar tree, twenty feet off the ground.

Lanfers slowed, his eyes narrowing as he took in the clearing. Like a K-9, he zeroed in on the edge of the cliff where a large clump of earth had fallen, leaving the fresh scent of rich soil behind. Keeping the majority of his weight back, Lanfers leaned out just enough to peer over the side and view the rock face to the treetops below. His head tilted. He kept that pose for several long seconds.

Time stretched into a full minute.

Jim held his breath as he watched. Was this guy as good as he claimed?

Suddenly, Lanfers pulled back, an ear to ear grin splitting his face. His comment was soft, but Jim could hear.

"To the sentinel victor, go the spoils."

Jim watched him leave, wearing a smile more predatory than Lanfers'. "Enjoy the brief feeling of victory, Jarhead. But that was just called `setting the trap'."

Blair heard the shot. All the strength seemed to leave his legs. His gut rolled with agony and he fought down the urge to vomit.

Maybe he should. Blair leaned against the tree that held him, his eyes tightly closed. He could die from that, right? He listened to the wind, praying a single shot would never take down his friend. Jim was too damn good. All the times the guy had fought odds stacked against him and come through victorious, it had to take more than one lousy bullet.

The rainforest sang to him, helped him stay calm as he waited for news. Blair played a game. He would count to ten and open his eyes and Jim would be the one coming toward him. He counted, then opened.

Nobody.

Taking a breath he closed them again. Okay, this time, twenty. He'd count to twenty.

He was on fifty when he heard someone coming.

Please, please, please.

"Okay, let's move out," Lanfers ordered.

The first raindrop splashed on Blair's thumb. He stared at the glistening flower-shaped drop dully. He was still cuffed. They'd been walking without a break ever since Jim had been killed. Lanfers wasn't content to let Blair follow anymore. After being freed by Blair's own pocketknife and pushed ahead, Blair got the feeling Lanfers wasn't trusting him anymore. Not that they'd been exactly chummy.

As they had walked, Lanfers had bragged about how Jim had gone over the cliff. How Jim's judgment must have been affected by being shot - and isn't it great to be a sentinel, because that was a hell of a shot - because Jim had gotten too close to the edge and it gave way under his weight. Blair walked, feeling like a death row prisoner on his way to the gas chamber with each step. Evergreen boughs slapped his face, he didn't care. Twice he fell to his knees after tripping on ground vines, big deal. Lanfers merely hauled him up and continued bragging.

"I heard the watch. Can you believe that? Not Ellison's heartbeat, because he was dead, but the tiny tick tock of a wrist watch. God, I'm freaking invincible."

Blair had ground his teeth together so hard, he'd probably sanded off all his enamel. He refused to comment. After a while, Lanfers had shut up.

Now the rain was starting and Blair could add the wonderfulness of being soaked to the skin to the heavy feeling of losing his best friend. He watched the forest darken as his hair grew heavy with rain. Each brush from a tree limb left a wet trail on his coat, his face and neck. The cuffs were too tight and he wondered bleakly if he was going to lose his hands all together.

If he did, Lanfers would have to find another pressure point.

He was jerked to a stop by a hand on his shoulder.

"We're here."

`Here' was a road. Blair looked in both directions, just like he'd been taught as a young boy. Lanfers pushed him to the left and he started walking again. He was aware of the bigger man walking at his side. If he were pressed to comment, Blair would have to admit it was nice walking on a road again, even if it was taking them back up the mountain.

After another twenty minutes Lanfers spoke. "Around the next bend, I think."

Blair was mildly curious. It gave his brain a rest from the dark thoughts that had been chasing each other around and around, like those old-fashion animal cartoons without sound and poor graphics. What was waiting around the next curve in the road? What was worth walking all this way?

A minute later, Blair knew. A black truck.

Lanfers reached into a pocket and pulled out a key ring.

Of course. Blair remembered now what Durkin had said about hiking in. They must be directly even with Uncle Buck's cabin now. So this was the reason Lanfers had headed back into the mountain range. At least they wouldn't be carjacking some innocent for a ride.

Lanfers had the front driver's side unlocked and the door opened. The bench seat was filled with luggage and assorted metal boxes. Durkin's personal effects, no doubt. Lanfers began moving them into the open bed of the truck and Blair waited quietly for him to finish. When he got to a large red, metal box and lifted, the clasp opened up and the contents dumped out onto the dirt road.

"Shit." Lanfers dropped the now empty box, then sighed as he dropped down on one knee.

The box had been filled to capacity with tools, every one imaginable. Blair remembered Durkin had been a real car enthusiast. The doctor must have enjoyed working on his damn vehicles. Jim had a similar box in his Ford. If he were here, he'd probably appreciate the doctor's collection. Each tool looked like quality, the best money could buy.

But Jim wasn't here, he was dead. And Blair had made a deal with his best friend's killer.

Wait a minute...

Lanfers didn't hold up his end of the bargain.

That meant Blair was no longer under any obligation. God, he must be suffering from too many blows to the head after all. Why hadn't this occurred to him before now?

Blair waited a second before squatting down to help as best he could with his hands cuffed. He managed to pick up one tool at a time. Together, they started filling the box up again. Carefully working at the same pace, Blair waited until the time was perfect.

And saw it. Lanfers head was turned away. Blair had a heavy box-ended wrench in hand.

He swung.

Hard.

And Lanfers dropped without a sound.

Blair released a lungful of air and pent up frustration. He held the wrench high, ready to strike again if the ex-marine so much as twitched. After a few seconds, he poked a still shoulder. Blood was welling up, sending rain-diluted streams of red down the unconscious man's neck and dripping into the mud. Blair ignored the injury as he rolled the man over, took the gun and pulled out a utility knife from the tool kit to cut himself free.

Standing on shaky legs, he stared down at the anti-sentinel. His fingers had enough strength to hold the gun if he used both hands. Raising them slowly, Blair sighted down the barrel. At this range, he wouldn't miss. He could place the bullet anywhere he wanted. He could make the death quick, or draw it out slowly. He could wait until Lanfers woke up and calmly explain why he deserved to die.

A mental image of Naomi pressed into his consciousness. Blair shook his head in rejection. No - no more, Mom. I'm not your little kid anymore. It was time to cut free and do what he thought needed doing.

Lanfers had taken the gift of the sentinel and only thought of himself, not the tribe.

And he'd killed Jim.

The rain must be getting heavy, because Blair's vision was suddenly so very blurry.

Jim chanced the battery-life of the white noise generator one more time. It was getting late. He needed to get close enough to check on Blair and Lanfers. Finding the road, he sighted in on the footprints along the muddy edge and slowly began trotting uphill. Out of the trees now, Jim's face missed the protection of his cap as the rain soaked him. After a few minutes, he saw the road curve and cut through the trees.

A black truck was visible through the foliage. He could see Lanfers and Blair squatting down by the driver's door. Now was the time to make a move. He'd never keep up once they drove away in that truck. But what was the best bet? Attack now, from the trees? Or double back down the road and stage an attack while the truck was moving. Something told him another rockslide was not the answer here.

Before he could decide, Lanfers was down and Blair was holding the reason in both hands. Drenched by rain, he looked as if he'd just finished swimming a river, his exhaustion visible in the trembling arms and legs. Jim noticed the bruised and split lip, the lump on his forehead. Yet, Blair was nothing if not a survivor. With a fond smile and a shake of his head, Jim started forward. As he got near the forest's edge, he saw Blair stand; the wrench was now a gun.

Jim slowed and stopped. Blair's face was completely expressionless, dead. Then, like an early black and white TV set warming up after you pulled the switch, Blair's face conformed; eyes squinted, jaw muscles hardened, his lips pressed so hard, a bead of fresh blood appeared.

Hatred - God, that just didn't belong there.

Just as Jim was sure the gun would fire, Blair dropped his arms, the gun aiming harmlessly at the ground. Throwing back his head, he tilted his face upward. The scream was primal and lifted the hairs on Jim's arms.

Jim sprinted out of the trees, suddenly freed from the unexplainable frozen status. Blair seemed blinded by tears. Remembering there was still a gun in the picture, Jim slowed his pace and approached from the side. He timed his movements so that one hand slipped the gun from Blair's lax grasp while the other circled the heaving shoulders.

"Hey, partner," Jim whispered.

"Jimmm..." Blair moaned as if in pain. He hiccupped with a startled jump, turning. "Are... you real?"

"Yeah," Jim answered tightly. He glanced down at Lanfers. They'd have to take care of him, but it could wait. "I had to make him think he killed me. Sorry about that."

Blair fell on Jim in a semi-controlled collapse. Jim caught him with a surprised grunt and tried to follow the exhausted babble that poured out.

"Couldn'tbreakword." A gasp. "Hewasn'tpostakillyoubuthesaid..." A shuddered breath. "Whatahellisgoinon'im?"

It just easier to let him run out of steam. Slipping the gun into his coat pocket, Jim pulled his friend close and wrapped both arms around Blair's shaking shoulders. Blair needed this and Jim wanted the physical assurance of knowing his friend was safe and in relatively one piece again. When the run-on syllables of `Blair-speak' slacked off and ended, Jim spoke.

"You did good, partner. Why don't you let me take over now? Get in the truck. I'll load up Lanfers and we'll take him to the hospital."

Blair sighed but didn't move. The last bit of tension seemed to dissolve. "I couldn't, Jim. I so wanted to. But I couldn't."

"It's okay," Jim crooned. "God, Chief. I wish I had your control. I'll always trust you do use whatever force is necessary. You've got the stuff veteran Rangers would pay to possess."

The wet mess of hair rocked against Jim's shoulder. "Not a soldier," Blair managed to get out. The concept seemed to agitate him anew.

"I know, I know. Just my observation, okay? You're still a damn good warrior, though. You still did everything exactly right."

"I wanted to... kill."

"But you didn't." Jim insisted, squeezing.

"But -"

"Chief, wanting is not doing. Got it? Otherwise all the men that ever saw a gorgeous woman would be serving a jail sentence."

Blair snorted, choked then released a harsh laugh. He pushed weakly out of Jim's embrace and slapped his arm. "M-man! Where do you get this shit?" he asked as his laughter grew, bordering on hysteria.

Jim faked a stern look. Lifting Blair's hands in his own, he checked the circulation. His hands were already looking better. "Don't start with me. Get in the truck."

Blair staggered away, still shaking with exhausted mirth. "Bossy sentinels."

Jim checked Lanfers' pulse and found it steady. The gash on his head was still bleeding. He found some clean gauze pads from the kit stolen from his own Ford and fashioned a quick pressure bandage. Using electrical tape from the tool box, he bound his prisoner hand and foot, lowered the tailgate and loaded him in the back. He even took a minute to wrap him in a plastic tarp.

It was so tempting to wrap the head a little too tightly.

But he remembered his own speech to Blair and played nice. He even remembered to elevate his upper body.

Blair was shivering when Jim finally finished. He tossed the remaining bags of luggage into the back bed, using them to keep Lanfers from rolling around too much and climbed behind the wheel.

"Keys?"

Blair blinked owlishly. His skin was too pale as he sat huddled in his seat, his shoulders bowed. He jerked his chin toward the back. "On him, I guess."

"Of course." Jim returned a few minutes later with them in hand. "Ready?"

"Yeah." Blair managed a weak smile. "Jim? I'm really, really glad you're not dead."

Jim nodded, a smile stealing across his face. The motor started on the first crank. "Me too."

Jim saw the road block in his headlights just before they reached the highway. Blair dozed in the warm cab of the truck, awakening instantly to Jim's nudge.

"What?

"We found the calvary."

"Cool." Blair yawned. "Uncle Buck and Simon with them?"

The drive down the mountainside had been slow due to the man in the back. Jim had been listening to Lanfers as he drove. The injured man was still out.

"Not sure, we'll find out. Keep your hands where they can see them."

Two state patrol officers approached with caution. They listened to Jim's story, checked the truck bed and relaxed. Before Jim knew it, Lanfers was under guard, on his way to the hospital, he and Blair were sipping cups of hot coffee and two familiar faces were running toward them from an arriving county deputy SUV. There was an awkward moment when Buck and Simon tried to cross paths and bumped into each other in their haste to greet them, but they sorted it out. Buck ran to Blair. Jim grinned as Simon made a bee-line toward him.

"Jim! You did it." Simon caught Jim in a full body hug. Not too many people could lift Jim off his feet. Simon didn't even make it look hard.

"Hey, Simon. Good to see you," Jim grunted.

Simon turned him loose, then watched the reunion between Buck and Blair. "God, Jim. We've been combing these mountains for you two. What happened? The radio said Lanfers was injured and taken by ambulance."

"Yeah. And I pray the cops know enough to keep an eye on him," Jim muttered in a quiet voice as he watched Buck fuss over Blair. "Sandburg had him laid out as sweet as any veteran street cop by the time I got to him."

"No way."

"Way." Jim rubbed his forehead, a grin sliding into place. "I'll fill you in later, okay?"

"Sure," Simon said happily, giving Jim's back a few more pounds. "Damn, I'm glad to see you guys. Hey, kid. You look like shit, you get checked out yet?"

Blair looked tired, but happy. They'd been sitting in the back of the sheriff's mobile incident command vehicle, a large panel truck, the size of a motor home. The back wall dropped down to form a ramp, which was where all four men stood. A fold out awning sheltered them from the rain. Blair let Buck pull him back down to sit on the padded bench. The older man kept an arm around his shoulders and Blair leaned into the comfort.

"I'm fine. Got checked out already. Just waiting for you guys to catch up." Blair patted Buck's arm. "So, can we go now?"

Jim shook his head. Blair was anything but fine. He exchanged a knowing look with Buck, happy to see the other man wasn't buying Blair's lies either. "Well, we finished our initial reports." Jim scratched his neck. "What's Durkin's status?"

Simon rocked on the balls of his feet. "Already gone. The local M.E. took the body away."

"So the cabin's cleared out?" Jim asked.

"Yep, should be." Buck looked up at the cops. "But I vote we find a hotel for tonight. Get one of these fellas to drive us to Aberdeen. Plus, we need new vehicles." He pulled a face. "God, I'm losing track of how many cars I've bought over the last eighteen months."

Jim was surprised to hear Simon snort a short laugh. "Your insurance might do what mine did. I have a special rider that says Ellison can't drive my cars."

"Hey!" Jim tried to look hurt but Blair was laughing too hard. "That was just a joke, right?"

Blair laughed harder.

"Right?" Jim pressed, grinning but still wanting an answer. "You're talking about that golden case, aren't you? That wasn't my fault - stop laughing, Chief - I had to stop those guys from getting away."

By early evening the following day, they were back at the cabin, two brand new rental trucks parked out front. The drift boat was back on its trailer and hitched behind the red Nissan truck that Buck had picked out.

The four stood on the front porch. Blair closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh smell of the forest after a night of hard rain. It felt fantastic to be back again, to know everyone was safe. Even though he'd enjoyed the hotel last night and the amenities that came with it, this is what he really wanted.

"Feels good to be here," Simon whispered as if in a church.

"Sure does," Blair agreed, opening his eyes. "Thanks, guys."

Simon's eyes twinkled. "Does this mean you'll share that hash recipe?"

Buck shook his head. "Okay, here's the deal. You and Jim go fetch our fishing equipment. We'll need to go over it before tomorrow. Blair and I will start the hash. It's just as good for dinner. Then I'll tell you both the recipe. How's that sound?"

"Works for me," Simon admitted. "How about you, Jim?"

"I'm down with it."

Blair was still snickering when Buck unlocked the cabin. Once inside, he saw the chairs had been returned to their rightful places and someone had generally tidied up. He was glad. The cabin was in one piece, it was bad enough the Jeep was totaled.

"You want to start on the potatoes?" Buck asked. "Or do you need to lay down?"

"I'm good." Blair headed for the kitchen. The frying pan was still sitting on the counter, the pancakes inside hard. He used the spatula to pry them out as he talked. "Are you really going to share the recipe?"

Buck was cleaning out the stove, getting it ready for a new fire. "Might as well. I'm the last Stevens now. No one but you and them to pass it down to."

"Hey, you're still young enough to start a family," Blair protested. He was rummaging in the bin for the best vegetables.

"Not going to happen," Buck answered. "I'm going to work on my orchard and enjoy myself. If I want the thrill of family, I'll come visit you and your cop friends. I think I'll take the bus, though, and leave my next vehicle safe at Dry Falls."

Blair felt a twinge of honest regret. "Hey, I'm sorry about that. I have some money saved -"

Buck held up a hand. "Stow it, runt. I'm just kidding. My finances are fine. I've got more stocks than I know what to do with. The damn things keep splitting on me. My advisor has been riding me to use some of my money on the business. Something about a tax break."

Blair paused. "You have stocks?"

"Yep, plenty." Buck lit a match and started the crumpled newsprint burning. "So don't fret."

After a filling meal, Jim enjoyed a beer while sitting in the rocker in front of the fireplace. Buck was out on the porch keeping Simon company, while the man smoked a cigar. Jim watched Blair work by the firelight, quietly scribbling notes into a journal he'd bought that morning in Aberdeen. Normally Jim wouldn't even have noticed, but it occurred to him that Blair hadn't been doing much scribbling over the last few months. Rather, he'd been working without passion on his school work, like a man with an unpleasant task that needed doing.

But the old look on his partner's face was back. And that made Jim feel like things were finally getting back to normal.

"What are you working on?"

Blair looked up from his work. He was sitting sideways in Buck's recliner, legs hanging over one arm, thighs propping up his notebook while he wrote. "Stuff."

"About?"

Blair looked guiltily back at his page and Jim knew the answer. "Lanfers?" he asked anyway.

"Yeah, just some stuff he said to me. Got me to thinking."

"What stuff?"

Blair licked his puffy - but healing - lip, his face twisted in thought. "He asked me... well, he sort of insinuated that I had a position in a sentinel's life."

"You do." Jim pointed the neck of his beer bottle at his friend. "You're the one that first told me. Every sentinel needed someone to watch his back."

Blair grinned cheekily. "True, man. And you do, trust me. But he made it sound like something not anyone could do."

"Ah, you mean what we talked about before." Jim nodded, his thumb running up and down the glass of his beer bottle. "So, what do you think?"

"Well, it's hard to know." Blair was back in his scientist mode. "Because I've only known you and him. But, gotta tell you, he creeps me out big time, just like on the sailboat. You don't."

"That's good."

"And I don't have any plans to visit him again. I'll answer any of his doctor's questions, but that's it. Still... there's something I'm missing." Blair gave Jim a direct look, all serious. "Jim, you're not keeping anything back from me, are you?"

Blair was on a fact-finding mission. This was the `before' Blair asking.

Before the McVey kidnapping case, and the night he'd spent in that damn chair.

Before shooting Durkin in the leg and thinking the man had died as a result.

Jim wasn't a dense person. He was being given a second chance and he was going to take it. He nodded his head. "I guess I've noticed a few things about our partnership that I should mention."

A shadow of fear and self-doubt crossed Blair's battered features.

"Good things, Chief. Very good things," Jim hurried to explain.

Blair set the notebook aside and swiveled around to sit properly. He leaned forward, eager to hear whatever Jim had to say.

Jim smiled, setting his beer bottle aside.

"First, I'd like to say: welcome back, Sandburg. I've missed you."

the end

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