Title: Spirit Walk
Author: Nancy Taylor
Author Email: nat1228@comcast.net
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Archive: Yes to CL, WWOMB, Fries
Author's website: https://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSgen.htm

Written: May-July 2000
Revised and expanded: January, 2002
Previously published by Agent With Style

Disclaimer: Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.

Episode related: Warriors

Warnings: lyrics

Author's notes: Many thanks to Becky for the use of parts of her episode transcripts for "Warriors." You made my job much easier.

Thanks also to my intrepid betas: Allison and Heather-Anne, for the original version, and Heather-Anne and Kimberly for this revised and expanded version. Couldn't do it without you!

Summary: Blair induces a vison-seizure to rescue Jim from a dangerous situation.

SPIRIT WALK
by Nancy Taylor
nat1228@comcast.net

I'll make it go away for you someday

=====||=====

"Way to go, Chief! You've got this dial thing down almost to a science now." Jim beamed his approval.

"This is just so great!" Blair said, smiling back. "I haven't had a full-fledged migraine in the past two weeks." He rubbed his temples lightly, marveling at how quickly the incipient throbbing had eased to a tolerable level.

"Or the epilepsy that goes with them," Jim added. "I think you've finally got this thing licked. Incacha was right. You can control the seizures."

"All right! Maybe now I can go off the Klonopin and ditch this." He pulled the medic alert dog tag from beneath his shirt.

"Not so fast!" Jim's hand closed over Blair's, keeping him from pulling the chain over his head. "It's still too early for that. Until we know what's really going on inside that crazy head of yours, you're going to continue to follow your doctor's orders."

"But, Jim. . . ."

"No 'But, Jim's'. You're playing with my sanity here."

Blair dropped his hand. "Well, we wouldn't want to mess with your sanity. It's screwed up enough already." Laughing, he dodged Jim's awkward lunge.

"You're going to pay for that, Sandburg!" Jim snarled playfully.

"You'll have to catch me first," Blair teased, enjoying the game. He scrambled to his feet, darting for his room and closing the door in the face of his attacker.

Jim smiled and let him go. It was late, and they both needed their sleep. Time enough to think up an appropriate retribution in the morning. He trudged up the stairs and got ready for bed. Settling in, he focused his hearing on the gentle heartbeat of his guide. The soothing rhythm soon lulled him into blissful sleep.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

The gray wolf trotted through the jungle, searching. The scent was faint, and he was losing the trail. Keen eyesight pierced through the undergrowth, but his quarry was nowhere to be seen. He stopped to get his bearings. Turning slowly, he tried to pick up the elusive scent once more, but it was masked by a pervasive stench of death and decay. Panting as exhaustion threatened to overtake him, the wolf took off once more, desperation dogging his every step.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

Blair woke up in a cold sweat. His eyes focused slowly, and he looked around, seeing nothing but the familiar walls of his room. Taking several deep breaths, he attempted to calm himself. Damn! Was that a dream? Since he'd learned to control his migraine attacks, he hadn't had any more visions. But this dream, if that's what it was, was too real.

There was a knock at his door. "You okay in there?" Jim sounded worried.

"Uh, yeah, Jim. Give me a minute, okay?" Blair got up hastily and began pulling on his clothes. He emerged from his room to find a worried sentinel waiting for him.

"What gives, Blair? Nightmares plaguing you again?"

Blair shook his head. "It's okay. I really don't feel up to talking about it right now."

Jim laid a hand on Blair's shoulder in silent support. "You know you can talk to me any time. . . ."

"Yeah, Jim. Yeah. I know. Thanks." Blair smiled at Jim to relieve the tension. "It was nothing. I'm fine."

~~oO0Oo~~

Jim shoveled the scrambled eggs onto two plates and carried them to the table. Blair grabbed the pile of toast, setting it down between them.

"Are you going to be able to join me at the precinct today?" Jim asked between mouthfuls of his breakfast.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to today, Jim. Sorry." Blair sipped at his morning coffee. "I've got a class this morning, followed by a meeting with my dis committee. This afternoon is filled with conferencing and office hours. Mandatory stuff, you know." He looked up to notice Jim eyeing him with disappointment. "I might be able to get away for an hour around noon, if you'd like to get some lunch," he added.

"That sounds great," Jim said, sounding relieved. "I've got a feeling this is going to be a hectic day, and I may need to touch base . . . you know."

Blair knew exactly what he meant. Under most circumstances, Jim was now able to control his senses without Blair's help, but during particularly stressful days, he needed to ground himself with his Guide's presence. "I'll make it a point to be there, then."

They finished their breakfast and cleared the table. Jim grabbed his jacket as Blair turned to the chore of doing the dishes. "See you at noon."

"You bet, Jim. I'll be there." Blair waved a soapy hand at his departing friend.

~~oO0Oo~~

Simon looked up as Blair walked through the bullpen, obviously searching for Jim. "Sandburg! My office."

Blair hustled himself inside and shut the door. "What's up, Simon? Where's Jim? I was supposed to meet him for lunch."

"That's the problem. He went out on a case this morning and hasn't checked in. No one seems to know where he's gone."

"Well, that's not too unusual for Jim, you know," Blair pointed out. "He always has liked working alone." Still, he would've called me to say he'd be late,/ Blair thought. He wouldn't just take off. "Who was he after?"

"Ever hear of Don Calisimo?"

"The West Side crime lord? Shit! He didn't go out after him alone, did he? Without backup?" Running a hand through his thick hair, Blair paced the office. "He could be hurt . . . dying somewhere!"

"Calm down, Sandburg. You know how unlikely that is." Simon tried to reassure the distraught observer. "Jim's a good detective. He's careful, cunning and has the best training for this sort of thing of anyone on the force."

"I'm worried, Simon."

"I know you are, kid. We're doing everything we can to locate him." Simon came around the desk, meaning to place an encouraging hand on the restless shoulder, but Blair danced out of his reach.

"I'm going out."

"Like hell you are!" Simon exploded. "I don't care how much experience you've got or how much you've helped this department. Officially you're still just an observer. I can't take the risk of letting you go out and getting yourself killed."

"Well, I can't just sit here and do nothing!" Blair raged.

"Look. I want you to go home," Simon said reasonably. "You'll just be in the way around here. Besides, maybe Jim will show up at the loft or call."

"Yeah, right." Sarcasm colored Blair's words.

"Blair, you've got to do this. Think how Jim would feel if you got yourself hurt or killed, and all the while he was perfectly safe?"

"I don't like this. Jim needs me. I should've been there for him."

Blair's incessant pacing was beginning to wear on Simon's one last nerve. "Go home, Blair. I'll call you if anything comes up."

"'Go home, Blair'," the young man peevishly mocked the Captain under his breath. "'You're not a cop, Blair. Leave the work to the real men. We'll call you if anything turns up'."

"SANDBURG!" The Captain's voice held both irritation and sympathy. He knew how close these two were, knew the strength of the bond of friendship that tied them together, but he couldn't allow the kid to rush blindly into a situation he knew nothing about, possibly getting himself killed.

"I'm going," Blair answered with a defeated sigh. "Call me?"

"You know I will," Banks answered sincerely. "Try not to worry, okay? It's only been a few hours. It's probably nothing at all." He watched as the door closed behind Sandburg, and the young man made his way out of Major Crime.

~~oO0Oo~~

The hours passed slowly. The afternoon sun was lowering in the sky as Blair felt the beginnings of a headache forming behind his eyes, beating time in his temples to the pulse of blood through his heart. Jim? Where are you? Why haven't you called?

Blair jumped in surprise when the phone rang. He scrambled to reach it before it rang for a second time. "Hello? Jim?" he answered anxiously.

"Blair, it's Captain Banks. We need you back down here at the station." The voice on the other end of the connection sounded strained.

"What is it? Did you find Jim? Is he all right?" Blair was scrambling to his feet as he spoke.

"Slow down, Sandburg! Just get down here as quickly as you can," the Captain answered. "We're in need of your expert assistance."

"My expert. . . ?" Blair stuttered, but was interrupted.

"Will you just get down here, Sandburg? Now!" Banks left no room for argument.

"Sure, Simon. On my way." Blair hung up the phone, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

~~oO0Oo~~

Captain Simon Banks was waiting when the whirlwind of activity he knew as Blair Sandburg blew into Major Crime. "My office, Sandburg."

Worry lining his face, Blair followed the Captain into his office. Too nervous to sit, he paced instead. "What's the news about Jim?"

"We still haven't heard anything. No one has been able to track his whereabouts." It was obvious that the Captain was concerned. He chewed mercilessly on the end of a ragged cigar as he filled Blair in on the little they knew. "I'm down to my last card in this game, Sandburg."

"And that would be. . . ?" the police observer asked.

"You," the Captain said pointedly.

"Me?" Blair was incredulous. "You sent me home earlier--said there wasn't anything I could do. What use am I now?"

"You have a unique bond with Jim. That's what I'm counting on," Simon explained. "Now, I can't claim to understand any of this mystical mumbo-jumbo you two try to feed me, but right now I'm willing to try just about anything.

"Blair, I've got to ask you. . . . Jim says you can control your visions now. Can you go into a trance, or whatever it is you do, and get us some information that will help us find him?"

"Uh . . . Captain. . . ?" Blair looked perplexed. "Jim and I have worked on controlling my migraines and seizures. We've been pretty successful. I haven't had an attack in over two weeks. But all that does is prevent the visions. I've never tried to actually bring one on. I don't know if I can do it."

"Blair, I don't know what else to try right now. If there's any hope of finding Jim. . . ."

"I'll try. I'll try. Dammit, Simon! Why this? Why now?"

Blair was on the verge of breaking down. Banks could see it in the trembling lips, the moisture-filled eyes. Walking over to stand next to the young man, he placed an arm around his shoulders. "You can do this, Blair. I know you can. Just tell me what I have to do to help."

Blair looked at the Captain. "I'm going to need some room on the floor," he began. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it out of his way. Banks followed suit, clearing a large area of his office floor.

Blair sank down, assuming his meditative tailor-sit position in front of Simon's desk. "If this works, I'm going to be having a seizure," he explained. "All you need to do is keep me from knocking my head when I fall. Roll me onto my side, and just let the convulsions run their course. It's frightening, according to Jim, but relatively harmless."

"Okay. That sounds easy enough. Anything else?" Simon tried to hide his nervousness as he quizzed the young shaman.

"Well, I'll be pretty much out of it when the seizure ends. Just talk me back to consciousness. I may not remember where I am or how I got here, so be prepared to explain what's going on." Blair looked intently into the chocolate-brown eyes of his Captain. "It'll be okay, Simon. Don't worry."

"Will you remember the vision? Will you be able to tell us anything?" Simon worried.

"If I have a vision, I should be able to recall it. Whether or not it will be of any help. . . ." The rest of the thought died on his lips. He couldn't stand the idea of this not helping. Already the pounding in his temples that had been present most of the afternoon began to grow. Closing his eyes, Blair attempted to relax, to not interfere with the pain growing more relentless with every passing minute.

Simon sat on the floor next to him, concern written across his large features as he watched the tension build on Blair's face.

Unaware of his own actions, awash in agony, Blair pressed his palms against the sides of his head and began rocking. A low moan issued from his lips, a continuing mantra of pain. Then, as Simon looked on, the rocking stopped. The moaning stopped. Everything stopped. The Captain held his breath, waiting. After an eternity consisting of no more than a handful of seconds, Blair fell forward, convulsing.

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

You are back, young shaman. Why do you come?

Blair whirled to face Incacha. "Jim is missing. You have got to help me find him!"

You have learned control. You come by free will on a vision quest.

"Yes! Yes! To find Jim! To find Enqueri! Can you help?"

You do not need me, young shaman. Follow your spirit guide. Follow your heart.

Blair's gaze tracked in the direction the Chopec shaman pointed. He spied the wolf as it headed out into the jungle. Pausing briefly, it looked over its shoulder at the Guide as though to say, "Follow me." Blair stumbled after the fleeing animal, running to keep up.

The jungle parted to reveal a large clearing. The stench of death and decay surrounded him, making him ill. As he followed the wolf into the open area, reality shifted. He found himself running through a maze of refuse and debris. The tainted air was occasionally blessed by a salt-scented breeze, and seagulls whirled overhead.

Keeping an eye on his canine guide, Blair picked up his pace. His heart was racing, but not with exertion . . . with fear. He rounded a particularly large mountain of garbage to be faced by a deep pit. Abandoned equipment was poised to fill the hole with the refuse.

Barely able to stop before he, himself, fell in, Blair teetered on the edge, looking down. What he saw made his eyes widen. At the bottom lay a large black cat, a jaguar, broken and bleeding, but still alive. It looked up at Blair with pleading golden eyes.

"JIIIIMMMM. . . !"

==|+|==|+|==|+|==

"JIIIIMMMM. . . !" The cry ripped from Blair's throat as the last of the convulsions shook his body.

Simon cradled his head and began talking softly. "Sandburg, wake up. C'mon, dammit, wake up and talk to me." He took a deep breath. That final, agonized scream had shaken him deeply. He had to know what the kid had seen, and he had to know now.

Blair's eyelids fluttered open and he stared, uncomprehendingly, at the large black man who held him. "What. . . ? Where. . . ?"

"Welcome back to the living, Sandburg," Simon greeted him. "You're okay. You're in my office at the precinct."

"So tired. . . ." Blair's eyelids slid closed as he tried to obtain the oblivion of sleep.

"Sandburg! Wake up!" Frustrated, Simon shook the somnolent anthropologist. When that failed to rouse him, he slapped Blair lightly across the cheeks. "Goddammit, Sandburg! I need you! Wake up!"

Slowly, as though his eyelids were lead weights, Blair opened his eyes. "Simon?"

"Yeah, kid. Wake up. We've got work to do here, and you're an essential part of it."

Understanding dawned, and Blair sat up. "Did I . . . did I have a seizure?"

"You sure as hell did! Now I know what Jim means when he says they scare a year off his life every time you have one! My God, Sandburg, I've never seen anything like it!" Simon tried to control the fear growing in the pit of his stomach. Fear for what he'd just witnessed. Fear for Jim.

"I'm sorry. I should have warned you. . . ."

"You did warn me! Will you just cut the crap and tell me what you saw?" the Captain demanded.

"A landfill. He's at the bottom of a pit in a landfill. . . ." Blair rested his head in his hands, fighting to keep his eyes open, and his mind alert.

Simon was up in an instant, leaving Blair sitting on the floor. "Taggert, Rafe, Brown! Get your butts in here!" The trio of detectives showed up almost instantly.

"Get maps of the city. Ellison's at a landfill. We've got to find out how many and where they're located."

"Simon?" The soft voice from behind him made the Captain turn around. "It was near the water. I could smell the sea breeze, and there were seagulls overhead."

"Sounds like the Harborside Landfill over on the West Side," Rafe commented. "Closest one to the water that I know about."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Simon asked, surging toward the exit.

"I'm coming with you!" Blair raced up behind the Captain, slowing his exit with a hand placed firmly on the larger man's shoulder.

"No way, Sandburg! If Calisimo is involved with this, it could be too dangerous. You stay put."

"No!" Blair was adamant. "The only chance you have of finding Jim in time is to take me with you. Now stop arguing and get moving!" He pushed past the startled Captain, heading for the elevators.

He was going to have to have a talk with Blair one of these days, Simon thought. He needed to learn some discipline and respect for those in charge. But for now, Ellison's life was on the line, and Captain Banks was not about to argue authority issues with the man. He entered the elevator and pushed the button for the basement level garage.

~~oO0Oo~~

Captain Banks' car careened through the landfill's gates, followed closely by another vehicle containing Taggert, Rafe and Brown.

"Call for an ambulance," the Captain ordered, getting out of his car, "and get some backup here just in case Calisimo's still around."

"Yes, sir!" Brown was on the radio immediately.

Taggert and Rafe took off in opposite directions, scouting the area for any signs of Calisimo or his henchmen.

Blair climbed out of the Captain's car and looked around. "This smells worse than I remember!"

"Stop complaining and start guiding. That's what you do, right?" The gruffness of the Captain's voice did nothing to hide his fear from the younger man.

"This way . . . I think," Blair said, motioning with his arm for the Captain to follow.

"You think?" The Captain sounded incredulous. "You're not sure?"

"As sure as I can be. It was a vision, Simon, not a roadmap!"

Banks shook his head. He would never begin to understand the mystical connection between Guide and Sentinel. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. Falling into step behind Jim's partner, he prayed that Blair would be able to find his friend in time.

They wove their way through the maze of garbage, stopping periodically for Blair to look around and get his bearings. "That's it!" Blair pointed to a mountain of refuse just ahead and to their right. "Just around that pile of garbage!" He took off at a run, Simon following close behind.

Rounding the pile, they were confronted by a huge pit. Without hesitation, Blair slipped over the edge, sliding and tumbling in a barely controlled fall toward the bottom where Jim lay in a crumpled heap.

Henri Brown appeared from around the mound of garbage to see his captain bending over the deep pit, shouting something down into its recesses. "Cap? Jim down there?" He edged closer to the hole.

"Get the paramedics! Quick!" Banks ordered without turning to look at his detective. Brown hurried back the way he had come, soon returning with the paramedics.

~~oO0Oo~~

At the bottom of the landfill, Blair carefully ran his hands over Jim's body, trying to assess the damage. It was obvious, even to the untrained observer, that Jim had been shot . . . several times. There was too much blood to ascertain exactly how many times or where. Too much blood. . . .

"Jim?" he whispered, caressing his friend's face with his hands. "Jim, it's Blair. I'm here. I'm here. Everything's going to be all right. I'm here now." His voice caught in his throat, and he sobbed. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Usually, their roles were reversed, with Blair the injured party. He wondered now how Jim managed. He was just barely holding himself together.

He looked up as the paramedics arrived. With great reluctance, he allowed himself to be pushed back, out of the way, while the medics triaged the injured detective and began to treat him. A backboard was lowered once the bleeding had been brought under control, and Jim was stabilized. The unconscious detective was pulled from the pit, while Blair scrambled up a rope behind him.

Blair followed the team to the ambulance. They loaded Jim in the back, and climbed in. Blair started to follow, but was pushed back. "Sorry. There's no room back here for ride-alongs. You'll have to follow in another vehicle."

"No. You don't understand!" Blair begged, trying once again to climb into the ambulance. "He needs me. I have to stay with him!"

At just that moment, Jim moaned and opened his eyes. "Blair?" His voice was a ragged mockery of his usual firm, strong tones.

"Right here, Jim," Blair answered, climbing aboard with no more resistance from the medics. He settled down next to the stretcher and took Jim's hand. "Everything's going to be okay now, Jim. You just rest and let the these guys take care of you."

The detective let his eyelids slide closed, feeling safe now in the presence of his guide and friend. One medic climbed out to take the driver's seat, while the other pulled the doors closed. With sirens wailing and lights flashing, the ambulance sped toward the hospital.

~~oO0Oo~~

Simon Banks sat next to one anthropologist-cum-police observer--partner and friend to one James J. Ellison, detective of the Cascade Police Department. He knew how difficult the waiting could be. How many times had he been in this exact situation with one or the other of this unusual partnership? Hospital waiting rooms were beginning to feel like a home-away-from-home.

Blair Sandburg was weary . . . weary to his very bones. How long had they sat in this abysmal waiting room? When would someone come to apprise them of Jim's condition? With his arms crossed on his knees and his forehead resting on his arms, he fought off the beginnings of another migraine with all the strength he had left. He could feel Simon rubbing his back in sympathy, but had no energy to spare for the Captain.

Henri Brown walked up to the waiting pair, touching the Captain gently on the shoulder to get his attention. "I thought you'd like to know, sir. . ." He waited until the Captain looked up. "Taggert and Rafe caught Calisimo. He and his men were holed up in a warehouse less than half a mile from the landfill. Looked like quite an operation they had there. We've got enough evidence to put them away for a l-o-n-g time. Add on attempted murder of a police detective, and Calisimo won't be seeing the light of day for at least fifty years."

"Thanks, Henri. That's good news . . . great news." The Captain sighed and looked over at the young man seated next to him. "But it won't be enough if Jim doesn't make it through this."

"Heard anything yet?" Brown asked.

"No. He's still in surgery. One of the doctors came out earlier to tell us it was still touch-and-go and that there were probably several hours' worth of surgery left. One bullet pierced his left lung, another grazed his heart. The third went through soft tissue in his shoulder. He's lucky to be alive."

"Damn! How's the kid?"

"How'd you expect? Exhausted. Worried. That's his best friend in there."

Blair looked up with bloodshot eyes. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here."

"Sorry, Blair. You just looked totally out of it." Brown was sympathetic.

Blair leaned back in his chair, allowing his head to fall backward. For several long moments, he simply stared at the ceiling, then he scrubbed his face with his hands, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. "I am pretty out of it. Sorry if I sounded snappish."
"Hey, I understand. If it were my partner in there, I'd feel the same way."

Simon grasped Brown's arm. "Tell Taggert and Rafe thanks for us, okay?"

"You bet, Cap. They said to tell you they'd be down here as soon as they got the paperwork done."

"Thanks, H," Blair whispered before closing his eyes once more.

"You're welcome, kid. Take care of yourself." Blair nodded absently as Brown turned to head toward the elevators.

Minutes dragged into hours. "Why don't you go to the visitor's lounge and lie down for a while?" Simon suggested to the exhausted anthropologist. "I'll come wake you when there's some news."

"No. Thanks, Simon, but no. I'd rather wait here."

Simon couldn't blame him. Blair and Jim were tighter than any two partners he'd ever seen. Looking up, he saw a doctor in green surgical scrubs coming toward them. He nudged Sandburg, who opened his eyes, instantly alert.

"Captain Banks? Mr. Sandburg?" The doctor reached out to shake their hands. "I'm Theo Parkinson, Jim Ellison's surgeon."

"How is he? How's Jim?" Blair's words tumbled out.

"It was a little touchy there for a while, I'll be honest with you, but Mr. Ellison's a fighter. He came through just fine. His generally excellent physical condition certainly contributed to our success. He's a very lucky man." The doctor smiled.

"How soon can we see him?" Simon asked.

"Well, he's in recovery now, then he'll be moved up to the ICU. I'm terribly sorry, but for the first few days only family will be allowed to visit." The desperate look on Blair's face did not escape the doctor's notice. Before he could say anything, Simon jumped in.

"Blair is the closest thing to family Jim's got. He's closer, actually. I can assure you, Ellison will recover more quickly if Blair is allowed to visit."

Blair looked gratefully at the Captain, then turned to Dr. Parkinson, waiting for his response.

"Well, considering that Mr. Ellison has Mr. Sandburg listed as his durable Power of Attorney, I suppose we can make an exception in his case."

Blair's face lit up, the tiredness dropping away with the anticipation of seeing Jim. "When can I visit?"

"I'm afraid you're going to have to continue to be patient," the doctor apologized. "He'll be in recovery another hour or so, where the nurses can keep a close eye on him. When he's moved into his room in Intensive Care, you can visit for a little while. No more than five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Blair was incredulous. "Oh no. No, no, nononono. . . . I've gotta stay with him. Doctor, I have to be there when he wakes up!"

"Mr. Sandburg, your friend was gravely injured. We almost lost him, more than once, during the surgery. I'm sure you understand that he needs his rest."

Blair looked on the verge of losing it when Simon Banks stepped in. "Doctor, please. These men are partners. I've never seen a closer relationship. What they have is rare and unusual. I can assure you that Sandburg won't be disturbing Ellison. On the contrary . . . his presence is required if you want to see any significant improvement in Ellison's condition."

"You'll forgive me if I find that statement a little out in left field, Captain Banks," Parkinson argued.

"I know how it sounds, Doctor. Believe me, I know. . . . But give them a chance. Check Ellison's medical records . . . or Sandburg's. You'll see that they're regulars here. Talk with the other doctors. I'm sure they'll tell you the same things I am."

"All right," Parkinson conceded. "I'll allow longer visitation, but if there's any sign of stress in the patient. . . ."

"Thank you, Doctor," Banks said with sincerity.

"Don't make me regret this," Parkinson said sternly to Blair. The young man shook his head, a smile spreading across his face.

"Thanks, Simon!" Blair said, turning to the Captain after the doctor had left.

"Don't mention it. It was as much for Jim as it was for you." He sat back down and patted the chair next to him. "Might as well take a load off. It's going to be a while yet."

~~oO0Oo~~

"Chief?"

The sound of Jim's voice, soft and gravelly, woke Blair from a light doze. He had been sitting watch over his sleeping friend for the past couple of hours, and the activities and excitement of the day had finally caught up with him.

"Jim? How are you feeling?"

"Like a Mack truck hit me, then backed up and ran me down again."

Blair chuckled. "Yeah . . . it was something like that, all right. You'll tell me the whole story when you're feeling better?"

"I'm feeling better already," Jim replied, wrapping his fingers around one of Blair's hands and squeezing lightly. "Just having you nearby is the best medicine."

"You should've heard Simon." Blair smiled. "He really let that doctor have it when he was going to limit my visitation to five minutes."

"Good thing, too," Jim commented, "or it probably would have been you letting him have it. Then Simon'd have to explain to me why you were in lock-up on assault charges." He smiled weakly and squeezed Blair's hand again.

"Yeah, you're probably right there." Blair caressed Jim's forehead, then stroked his fingers through his short hair. "You sure had us worried. When you disappeared . . . no one could find you. . . ." He sighed and sat back in the chair as memories of the harrowing day just past sifted through his mind.

"How did you find me, anyway?" Jim asked. "Last thing I remember was a gunfight with Calisimo's men at the landfill."

"That was the weirdest part of the day." Blair sat up, suddenly animated. "When Simon and the guys couldn't find you, he decided that I needed to go on a spirit walk, induce a seizure-vision, to find you."

"You didn't! Not after all that work we went through to teach you how to control those damn things!" Jim couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Calm down, Jim. Take some deep breaths." Blair mimed the deep meditative breathing technique he had taught Jim early on in their association. "If you start spiking your monitors, the doctor'll throw me out of here."

Jim took a few deep breaths, then turned back to his friend. "Okay. Now you're telling me you deliberately brought on a seizure in order to find me?"

"That pretty much sums it up, yeah."

"And it worked."

"Obviously." Blair's grin couldn't have gotten any wider. "You're here, aren't you? Alive, and mostly in one piece?"

"Mm-hmm," Jim reluctantly agreed.

"Well, learning to stop the seizures was only half the equation in controlling them, Jim. I learned the other half today. Today, for the first time, I feel as though I deserve the title 'Shaman of the Great City'."

"You always deserved it in my eyes." Jim smiled, then closed his eyes, exhaustion finally catching up to him.

~~oO0Oo~~

It was a red-letter day, two weeks later, when Detective James J. Ellison was released from Cascade General. Surrounded by his Captain and an army of detectives from Major Crime, he made his way triumphantly from his room to the discharge area, escorted in style by an enthusiastic partner.

"Well, here we are!" Blair exclaimed, setting the brake on the wheelchair. Jim's truck was parked just outside the doors. "Your chariot awaits!"

Jim pushed up from the chair, favoring his left arm which was still in a sling, and teetered for a second before gaining his balance. Blair stood on his right, steadying him as their friends gathered around to say good-bye and wish Jim well.

Once safely ensconced in the passenger seat, Jim heaved a sigh of relief. "It is so good to be going home! You have no idea!"

"Oh, I think I do," Blair teased. "Our positions have been reversed often enough." He paused, risking a brief glance toward Jim. "You know, I think I prefer it when it's the other way around."

"Don't say that! Don't you ever think that way! Now you know how I feel when it's you in that hospital bed, fighting for your life."

"You scared me. You scared all of us. Why didn't you call for backup?" The accusation in Blair's voice covered the fear that still lurked in his mind.

"I couldn't. It all went down so fast. I was casing the warehouse. . . ."

"From where?" Blair interrupted.

"The landfill," Jim answered a bit sheepishly. "I was concentrating on a conversation and. . . ."

"You zoned!" Blair interrupted again. "You zoned, didn't you? Damn!"

"Yeah, I think I probably did," Jim confessed softly. "Next thing I knew, Calisimo's men had the drop on me. The gunfire brought me back to reality, but not fast enough. Next thing I remember is your voice telling me everything was going to be all right." He smiled across the cab of the truck at the young man driving. "So, you really induced a vision to find me?"

"It was probably the hardest thing I've ever had to do," Blair admitted. "It was terrifying, but the thought of losing you frightened me even more. I had to try."

"Incacha would be proud of you. I'm proud of you. A man couldn't ask for a better friend."

Blair blushed and stared out the windshield at the afternoon traffic. "Let's just try not to make a habit of this, okay? I'm not up to losing you. That's how this whole mess started in the first place . . . my worrying about losing you."

"Guess we've come full circle, eh, Chief?" Jim grinned.

"That we have," Blair agreed. "That we have."

To be continued in Where I Belong...

RETURN to my fiction page.