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

First published in Blackfly Presses' zine, "See No Evil." (Aug. 2001)

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.

Thanks go to my intrepid team of beta readers, in this case: Terri, Kimberly, Allison and Heather-Anne, with additional help from Nightowl and Stormy. Virtual chocolates to each and every one of you.

BLESSED PROTECTOR
by Nancy Taylor
nat1228@comcast.net

"You know, the Chinese believe that when you save a man's life you become his Blessed Protector, and it's your duty to do that for the rest of your life." -- Blair Sandburg, Cypher

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

"Will you please turn off the 'Blessed Protector' mode?" Blair batted at the hand fussing with the gauze that decorated his forehead. "I can take care of myself!"

"Current circumstances would refute that claim, Chief," Jim admonished, finishing his personal check of his partner's physical status while they waited for the doctor's return. "And would you please stop talking about me as if I was some kind of appliance you can turn off and on? 'Blessed Protector mode,' my ass. Just how do you expect me to act when you get hurt?"

"Not like my mother!" Blair snapped. He immediately felt guilty for his sharp tone when he saw the look of hurt concern in his partner's eyes. "It's just a couple stitches, Jim," he continued more softly. "I'm all right. Really. Some days it's just better not to get out of bed." Pulling his shirt back on, Blair winced slightly as bruised muscles protested the movement.

Jim cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Blair continued, "It wasn't a seizure, man. How many times do I have to tell you? I've got them under control."

Both men turned as the doctor walked back into the exam room. "Your x-rays look good, Mr. Sandburg. Nothing broken, but I'd suggest taking a few days off and getting some rest."

Blair's smug grin didn't last long.

"Your chart says you're taking Klonopin for epileptic seizures." The doctor pinned the younger man with a stare. "Have you been taking it as prescribed?"

"What does that have to do with . . . ?" Blair sputtered.

"Answer the question, Chief." Jim abruptly interrupted the blatant attempt at an excuse.

"It wasn't a seizure!" Blair repeated. "What does it matter if I'm taking the meds or not?"

Doctor Patterson shook his head and sighed. "How long ago did you stop taking them?"

Blair had the good sense to look embarrassed. Hanging his head, he let a curtain of hair shield him from Jim's disappointed gaze. "About two months ago," he answered quietly.

Jim inhaled sharply and turned brusquely on his heel, pacing the length of the room and back, trying to get himself under control before speaking. "What were you thinking, Chief? I thought we had an agreement."

"Had, Jim. That's the operative word. We had an agreement. I'd take the stuff until I had the seizures under control. They are. This wasn't a seizure. How many times do I have to tell you that?" Blair swept his hair back with a hand, then pulled the same hand down his face in frustration. "Can we discuss this later, please?" he pleaded softly.

Dr. Patterson studied the man sitting on the edge of the gurney. "Maybe I should consider admitting you overnight to run some tests."

"No!" Blair glanced up sharply and shook his head. "Look, I've been working overtime at the University. I've been covering classes for a colleague who's out with the flu. It's the end of the quarter and tests need to be graded; grades need to be posted. I'm tired. That's all. Tired and a little clumsy. I'll try to be more careful, okay?"

"I'll let it go for now," the doctor conceded, noting the pale complexion and dark circles under his patient's eyes. "But if you have another one of these 'clumsy' episodes, I want you back here immediately. Understood?"

Blair nodded. "Can we go now?"

"Just stop by the nurses' desk and sign a few papers. Get some rest, Blair. Doctor's orders." Dr. Patterson smiled with sympathy at the harried young man.

Blair slipped off the gurney and allowed Jim to help him into his jacket. He felt a protective arm slide around his shoulders to steady him. They walked out to the nurses' station to sign the release papers, then headed for the truck. Once on their way home, Jim turned toward his sullen passenger.

"Blair. . . ."

"Don't say it, Jim, okay? Just don't say it." Blair turned to look out the window, watching as the city passed by. "I feel a headache coming on," he mumbled, concentrating on pushing it back.

A hand reached out to caress his head, fingers threading through silky strands of hair--comforting, soothing. "I was just going to suggest a weekend getaway," Jim said softly.

"You're not going to bug me about the Klonopin?" Blair wondered.

Jim sighed, letting his hand drop down to Blair's thigh. He patted the denim-clad limb before putting both hands on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. "I'm not happy with your decision, Chief," he admitted, "but you're a grown man, and it should be your choice. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"Thanks, man. That means a lot." Blair paused a beat before asking, "What weekend getaway did you have in mind?"

"This is the last weekend to ski Mt. Rainier before the lodge closes for the spring and summer. I'd love to get in one last pass on the slopes. How does that sound?"

"Cold." The remark was made with a smile. "Look, Jim, you know I don't ski. . . ."

"So? I'll teach you. It'll be fun." At Blair's skeptical look, Jim's voice took on a pleading tone. "You really need a break, and I really need to ski." When the expression on Blair's face refused to change, he added, "You owe me one."

"I owe you one?" the younger man questioned.

"If you go skiing with me," Jim bargained, "I promise never to bring up the Klonopin again."

Blair groaned and turned toward his tormentor. "Deal."

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Despite layers of goosedown and state-of-the-art cold weather gear, Blair stood shivering at the top of the beginner's slope.

"It's easy," Jim encouraged. "Just angle your skis so the tips nearly touch, then push off gently with your poles."

"I don't know, man," Blair managed through chattering teeth. "I don't think I'm cut out for this."

"I'll be right beside you all the way. It'll be fun."

"That's what you say," Blair muttered, positioning his skis and gingerly pushing against the snow with his poles. He began a slow downward glide, guided by the presence of Jim hovering at his right elbow. "Hey, this is fun!"

"Told you so," Jim crowed, slapping his partner across the back.

Blair turned to flash a huge grin at the Sentinel. Unfortunately, the movement broke his concentration and overbalanced the novice skier. The next thing he knew, Blair was on his butt in the snow, skis tangled underneath him.

Jim reached out a hand to pull the young man up. "Easy there, Chief. Don't want to damage anything vital."

"Ugh," Blair grunted, righting himself on the slender skis. He dusted the snow from his backside and glared at the smiling face of his friend. "Don't say a word!" he challenged.

Jim tried hard to stifle his laughter. Blair's scowl didn't last long, a big smile lighting his face.

Determined not to let a little snow defeat him, Blair started out again. His slow glide down the gentle hill was abruptly interrupted by a hump in the trail. Untangling himself, he stood up again, refusing Jim's assistance.

"I'm going to do this," Blair stated resolutely, "if it takes me all day."

"Oh, God," Jim moaned. "I've created a monster."

"I heard that!" Blair quipped as he began to glide down the slope once more.

After nearly three hours of earnest struggle and effort, Blair stood at the top of the beginner's slope for one final attempt. Jim was beside him, but a respectable distance away, giving Blair a feeling of independence.

Blair rubbed at the seat of his pants. "I wonder if I'll ever get the feeling back in my butt?"

"If I were you, I'd worry less about my butt and more about proper use of my poles."

Making an obscene gesture in the direction of the smart-mouthed Sentinel, Blair pushed off, concentrating diligently on his balance and speed. Jim followed a few feet behind, smiling as he thought about the progress the young man had made in such a short time.

As Blair's pace picked up a bit, he wielded the poles the way Jim had taught him. Angling his skis, he managed to slow himself down. Before he knew it, he was at the foot of the slope, still standing. Throwing both fists in the air, he let out a whoop of triumph.

"Yeah! I did it, man! I did it!"

"You sure did, Chief. I knew you could. Want to go back up?"

Blair considered briefly, then his stomach rumbled. "Guess that answers that question," Jim laughed. "How about we go back to the lodge, have some lunch and warm up a bit?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Blair agreed.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

It felt wonderful being warm and dry again. As he and Jim ate a light lunch and discussed their morning exploits, Blair considered whether he wanted to go back out that afternoon.

". . . expert slopes," Jim was saying.

Blair pulled himself back to the present and looked at his partner and friend. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"If you don't mind, I'd like to take a crack at the expert slopes later this afternoon."

"Oh no, hey, that's okay with me, man. I'd like to go out again, but I think I need a bit longer to thaw out, you know?" Blair rubbed his arms briskly, shivering at the mere thought of more cold, wet snow.

"Well, then, maybe I'll go out now." Jim peered out the restaurant's window at a storm gathering over the peak of the mountain. "I don't like the look of those clouds."

"Maybe you'd better stay in," Blair suggested, a worried look making creases around his eyes. A nagging ache began in his temples. Blair pushed it back resolutely, determined to control the pain.

"Nah. It'll be a while before anything happens. Besides, what's a little more snow?" Jim stood, dropping his napkin on the table. "I'll be back by dinner."

Blair tried to ignore the feeling of foreboding that was beginning to weigh on him. It was all his imagination, anyway, he convinced himself. All he needed was some good R&R and he'd be feeling on top of the world again. "Sounds good to me," he told his partner. "I think I'll just grab a hot chocolate and a book and take advantage of that huge fireplace in the great room."

"See you in a few hours, then." Jim patted Blair's shoulder as he moved past his friend to change clothes and pick up his gear.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Dressed in jeans and a ski sweater, with nothing on his feet but thick, woolly socks, Blair curled up on one of the couches in front of the huge fireplace in the lodge's great room. He smiled as he opened Anne McCaffrey's newest novel in her "Pern" series. It had been a while since he'd allowed himself to read anything other than his anthropology texts and journals, and he was looking forward to losing himself in a fantasy world of telepathic dragons and their fearless riders.

The warmth of the flames worked its magic on the aches forming in his muscles. A headache once again niggled at his temples. Blair put down the book and concentrated on his relaxation techniques until the pain subsided. He picked up his novel and sipped at his hot chocolate, finally beginning to relax.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Jim sat quietly in the ski lift, opening his senses to the sights and scents of the snow-clad mountain. The smell of pine and fir assaulted his nose, bringing back memories of last Christmas with Blair's wide-eyed wonder and child-like enthusiasm. He couldn't imagine his life without the young Shaman and Guide. He would do whatever was necessary to protect Blair and keep him safe, even if the young man often protested his "Blessed Protector" instincts.

The lift deposited him at the top of a steep, clear slope. Even sentinel sight could spot only a handful of other skiers on the mountain. Jim glanced over his shoulder at the brooding clouds moving closer over the peak, then concentrated his attention on the slope. He pushed off, reveling in the swoosh of skis against the fresh powder.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Blair looked up from his reading when he felt the cushions sink a little deeper, indicating another body was sharing his couch.

"The Skies of Pern . . . I just love Anne McCaffrey's dragonrider series, don't you?" A petite, twenty-something blonde perched on the far end of the sofa, smiling at Blair. "I haven't had a chance to read her latest yet. Is it any good?"

Removing his glasses, Blair folded them and used them as a bookmark, closing the tome in order to better view his visitor. "I'm just getting started, but yeah, it's pretty good so far. Hi, my name's Blair." He reached out a hand which the girl took and shook firmly.

"Hi, I'm Tracy. Nice to meet you, Blair." She beamed a smile his way, pushing a cascade of long golden hair over her shoulder. "Have you been out on the mountain yet?"

"This morning. Jim gave me my first skiing lesson." Blair laughed lightly. "I think he was just as happy to leave me here this afternoon as I was to be left. I don't do cold very well."

"Your friend is out on the slopes?" Tracy asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"Oh, nothing, I guess. I just heard some of the ski patrol guys talking about a storm coming in and trying to get people down off the slopes before it hits."

Pain flared in Blair's temples at the news--the same pain he had been holding at bay since yesterday. He fought the dials, trying to quiet the insistent throbbing, but the pain built despite his efforts, finally exploding behind his eyes like Fourth of July fireworks. Blair doubled over, wrapping his arms around himself and moaning.

Tracy was beside him immediately. "Blair? Blair! Are you all right?"

Small hands on his shoulders tried to pull him upright, but Blair resisted. "I'm okay," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't need help."

The girl took one look at the stark whiteness of the young man's face and didn't believe him for a moment. "I'm going to see if I can find some help."

Soon after Tracy left, Blair began rocking rhythmically, his hands having shifted to his pounding temples. "Not here. Not now," he murmured. "Oh, God!" He pitched forward, the convulsions of a grand mal seizure gripping his body.

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

The world went dark. The voice of the Chopec Shaman, Incacha, echoed in his mind. Do not fight the vision, young Shaman. Follow where it leads./

The world went white. He was cold. The wind blew fiercely, cutting through the knit of his sweater, piercing him to the bone. Somewhere before him he could make out the shape of a sinewy black cat disappearing through the trees before a curtain of white completely obscured the view. A crushing weight suddenly compressed his chest, forcing all the air from his lungs. Just before darkness took him, he heard the howl of a wolf.

Listen to your spirit guide. Listen and follow.

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

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

White flakes chased him down the slope as the sky darkened. An urgency pulled at the Sentinel--a foreboding. Flakes turned to ice pellets stinging his exposed cheeks as he raced down the flank of the mountain.

A bright flash to his left nearly blinded him. The lightning was followed almost immediately by the deafening roar of thunder. Jim could smell the smoke from the charred tree as he pushed himself to ever greater speed.

An ominous rumbling sounded behind him. He hazarded a glance over his shoulder, but saw nothing except a lone skier far behind him up the slope. Slowing his pell-mell pace, he stopped to listen. The rumbling sounded again. He turned, considering whether he could reach or warn the person in time. The rumbling came once more, louder this time and accompanied by movement.

Jim watched in horror as the mountain moved--a wall of snow and ice building up speed. The decision to attempt a rescue was taken out of his hands when the leading edge of the avalanche swallowed the skier in its relentless course down the mountainside. As Jim turned and pressed down the slope at break-neck speed, he could hear her screams echoing in his mind.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Blair's eyes fluttered open. Hands were all over him. Unfamiliar hands. Lethargy and disorientation clouded his mind. All he knew for certain was that Jim was in trouble. Jim needed him. He fought the tiredness and the hands, trying to rise.

"Just lie still, buddy," a male voice instructed.

"No. Gotta get to Jim," Blair protested, struggling to be free.

"Don't you worry. We'll find this Jim fellow for you. Just lie still. Let us check you over."

A stethoscope was pressed to his chest. He was so tired. So tired. Maybe he would just let these strangers care for him while he slept. The howl of a wolf echoed in his mind, reminding him that Jim needed him. There was no time for anything else. Get to Jim. It was an imperative--the only thing the young Shaman could focus upon.

"Gotta get to Jim," he repeated, forcing the hands back so he could sit.

"Look, kid," the medic said, "you just had a grand mal seizure here in the lounge. You scared a lot of people. You need to let us check you over."

Blair looked around, embarrassed by the crowd that had gathered. He was on the floor in front of the couch, his book and glasses a few feet away, out of reach. Knuckling his eyes, he rubbed the sleepiness from them.

"I'm all right," he insisted. "The seizures aren't dangerous; they just look that way. Honest. I'm under a doctor's supervision. I'm fine." He stood up on shaky limbs, grabbing hold of the nearest medic to steady himself. "Just let me go to my room. I'll be okay." He bent over to collect his book and glasses, feeling a wash of dizziness as he did so. He felt the man grab his arm to keep him from falling.

"Better let me escort you back to your room," the medic insisted.

Reluctantly, Blair allowed himself to be ushered back to the suite he shared with Jim. Once inside, he collapsed on the bed and waited for the intruder to leave him alone. As soon as the door closed, he was up and bustling around the room. Shoes. Coat and scarf. Gotta get to Jim. His mind was still fuzzy with the post-seizure lethargy, not allowing much in the way of coherent thought, but he knew what he needed to do.

Opening the door, he peered left and right down the hall. Seeing the way was clear, he stepped out, determined to find his partner. Keeping close to the walls, Blair sidled his way through the lobby toward the large doors that led to the ski lifts.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Jim stayed near the tree line, hoping the pines would help break the progress of the wall of snow chasing him. He didn't need to glance over his shoulder to see the mountain advancing relentlessly. He could calculate down to the meter how close the slide was just by listening to the roar. He had to dial down his hearing as the sound became ever more deafening.

It was a race the Sentinel was certain he could not win. The best he could hope for was to get as far as possible, to minimize the impact by staying close to the trees.

Oh, God, Blair. Forgive me. Forgive me for leaving you like this. Jim's mind was suddenly gripped with fear--the fear of leaving his shaman, his guide, his friend, alone and bereft. Then the roar overtook him and the world went white.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Blair slipped through the lodge doors unnoticed. As he headed toward the lifts, he felt a restraining hand on his arm.

"Sorry, buddy. The lifts are closed. We have ourselves a late-season blizzard in the making," a member of the ski patrol told him.

"My friend is up there!" Blair shouted, wrenching his arm free. "I have to find him."

"We've got people ready to go up and get any stragglers off the mountain. You stay put." The man tried to turn Blair, to shove him back toward the warmth of the lodge.

"You don't understand," Blair began.

A young woman in ski patrol uniform came running up to the man talking with Blair. "Steve! Thank God I caught you before you headed out! There's an avalanche on the northwest slopes. Is everyone accounted for?"

"Shit!" Steve cursed under his breath. "No. We still have some skiers out. I guess we'll have to wait until everything settles before going out to look for bodies."

Blair shrank away from the pair as they discussed the havoc on the mountain. Gotta get to Jim, he thought. The lifts weren't operating, and trying to get up the mountain on foot would take too long. He spotted a group of snowmobiles parked not far away, ski patrol insignia painted on the sides.

Making sure no one was watching, Blair walked casually over to the vehicles. Just his luck, the keys were in the ignition, ready for a quick flight up the mountain.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Steve and his crew turned as one when the sound of an engine split the quiet of the afternoon. "Damn!" the ski patrol captain swore again as he watched one of his snowmobiles heading up the slope at top speed. "Get that bastard back before we have another body to find!"

The patrol mounted their vehicles and took after the determined young man. Some days it was just better not to get out of bed, Steve thought morosely.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Jim came to consciousness slowly. His head throbbed to a rhythm of jungle drums. He was cold. Looking around, he saw a world of white. Nothing but white--the ground, the sky, the air.

He struggled to move, but was pinned in place. His left leg was trapped between the tree he leaned against and a rather large boulder. He wasn't sure if the numbness he felt in his lower extremities was due to injury or the extreme cold. Even Gortex and goosedown could only do so much to keep out the bone-chilling temperatures. Thank God he had chosen to stay near the trees. At least he wasn't buried in an icy tomb.

He made an effort to dig as much of the snow away from himself as possible. The boulder, he found, would be impossible for him to move by himself. He would have to wait and pray for an elusive miracle. It was late afternoon. With the blizzard still howling, it was already getting dark. He wasn't sure he could survive an unprotected night on the slopes.

Something caught his eye in the trees to his right. Lithe movement. A cat-like silhouette. He focused his sight on the object and saw a large black cat pacing at the edge of vision. A calmness settled over him. His spirit guide was on guard. Perhaps his miracle wasn't so elusive after all. . . .

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Blair flew across the snow, hair loose and whipping his face. The cold had brought him fully back to his senses, but it was too late to turn back for warmer clothes or equipment. He needed to get to Jim right away.

He slowed his vehicle to take his bearings. Jim had said something about the expert slopes being on the northwest face of the mountain. His sense of direction was tentative at best, so he searched through the blinding snowstorm for signs of the lift, of anything that would lead him in the proper direction.

A lonely howl made itself heard above the screech of the wind. Blair turned to see the vague outline of a wolf at the outer range of his vision. He turned the snowmobile to follow the animal, certain it would take him to Jim.

Many long minutes later, the animal disappeared. Blair had made good progress up the mountain, but he was lost and frustrated. He got off the machine and stretched his legs. He was near a stand of trees. The slope was steep, and the going was hard, but he clawed his way into the protection of the pines. The wolf reappeared, trotting ahead of the Shaman. It stopped and looked back, beckoning. Blair followed.

As he entered the copse of trees, he heard a moan, saw a flash of red in the near distance. Picking up his pace, he followed his spirit guide to his friend's side.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Jim struggled to stay awake, concentrating on the pacing jaguar yards in front of him. A growl caused his head to snap up. He must be hallucinating. He had to be. An angelic vision stood not ten feet from him. Wild dark curls whipping about his face, wrapped like an Eskimo, his savior stood above him, a smile of indescribable joy lighting his face.

Blair fell to his knees in front of the injured Sentinel, noting his predicament and trying his best to assess Jim's condition. "Jim! Thank God I found you! Are you all right? What happened? Say something!"

"Chief?" The husky voice was slurred with exhaustion and hypothermia.

"Yeah, Jim, it's me. Just hold on, okay? I'm gonna get you out."

"How? How . . . find me?" It took supreme effort to speak.

"I had a vision. God, I was so scared. I didn't think they were going to let me up here. Actually, they didn't. I had to sneak out. The medics wanted to keep me for observation after the seizure."

". . . Seizure?"

"Yeah, man. I told you. I had a vision. Anyway, they escorted me back to our room, but the guy didn't stay, so I snuck out, grabbed a snowmobile from the ski patrol and came to get you."

"Stole a snowmobile?" Jim's voice held a hint of incredulity. "Sandburg. . . ."

"Quiet, Jim. Don't use up your energy. Let me get you out."

Blair looked around for something to use to lever the boulder off Jim's leg. He grabbed the nearest ski pole, slipping it under the rock and leaning all his weight down onto it. The fiberglass rod gave with the pressure, bending, but not budging the rock. Eventually, it snapped. "Guess that's not going to do it," Blair mumbled, looking around for something sturdier.

Searching eventually yielded a tree branch, broken off by the cascade of snow and ice. Blair wedged it under the rock, careful to keep away from his partner's injured leg. Once again, he applied his weight to the lever, laying across it and bearing down with all his strength. It was a struggle. While Blair had an amazing amount of strength for a man his size, he was barely a match for the boulder pinning Jim down.

After what felt like an eternity of trying, Blair felt the rock shift slightly. "Pull your leg out, Jim! Now!" He grunted with the effort to keep the boulder in place while Jim reached down with both hands to move his leg and foot. He slipped free and Blair released the rock, letting it slam down against the tree.

Blair was immediately at the Sentinel's side, checking the injured leg first. "Nothing appears to be broken, thank God, but you have a nasty bump on the head. Were you unconscious at all?"

"Don't know. Maybe," Jim answered.

Blair considered trying to get them both down the mountain on the small snowmobile, but thought better of it. It was getting dark, and with the snow still falling, he didn't want to risk getting turned around and becoming lost. Going back to the vehicle, he checked the equipment box. Inside, he found a small, collapsible shovel. Rounding the boulder, he found a stable area of packed snow and began to dig. When he had finished hollowing out their refuge, Blair stumbled back to the snowmobile to rummage through the contents for supplies. He carried a light, mylar blanket which he spread on the floor of the snow cave to keep them dry, a small supply of bottled water and energy bars, and a flashlight. Exhausted, Blair barely had enough strength remaining to drag Jim into the shelter.

Taking the remaining ski pole, Blair stood it in the snow in front of the cave, tying a red flag from the snowmobile's emergency kit to one end. He then climbed into the small shelter, pulling a large block of snow over the entrance to block the wind.

The interior of the snow cave was relatively warm. Still, Jim shivered from cold and shock. Blair unwrapped his scarf and draped it gently over his companion. He didn't have anything else to give the injured man, except himself. He settled down beside Jim, turning to sprawl over him, a living blanket. Jim murmured his appreciation, wrapping an arm around Blair's waist to keep him close and closing his eyes.

"Come on, man, don't go to sleep on me now." Blair lightly slapped Jim's cheek, forcing the man to open his eyes. "You've got a concussion, I'd bet good money on it, and you're hypothermic. Sleep now, and you're not going to wake up again."

"It's been a long day, Chief," Jim muttered.

"And it's going to be a longer night," Blair informed him. "We've gotta stay here, stay alive, until morning. After that, the ski patrol can find us."

"Talk to me," Jim suggested. "Tell me how you found me."

Blair began to recall his day in great detail, pausing occasionally to make sure his audience was still paying attention.

"Why did you let yourself have the seizure? You tell me you can control them now." Jim's voice was slightly accusatory.

"I've been fighting headaches ever since I fell and cracked my head. Just figured the pain was from that, so I used the dials like you taught me and toned it down. The seizure itself came on me kinda fast. I was just relaxing by the fire reading and chatting up some snow bunny."

"Was she pretty?" Jim interrupted.

"Not as pretty as you," Blair teased, getting himself a slap across the back for his temerity.

"Tell me about the seizure."

"I don't remember much, to be truthful," Blair confessed. "The pain just crashed down on me and the seizure happened before I could do anything about it. I thought I heard Incacha chastising me for hindering the visions. Then everything went white. I saw the jaguar and heard the wolf. I knew you were in trouble and that I had to get to you. You should have seen them try to stop me!" He chuckled.

"They don't know about us, Chief. Nothing's going to keep us apart, not even a mountain of snow."

"Now who's the mushy one?" Blair teased. "I think you hit your head harder than you're admitting."

"Don't read anything into it, Einstein," Jim muttered, snuggling in close to his smaller companion. "Can we sleep now?"

"No!" Blair elbowed his recalcitrant partner in the ribs. "Don't you dare, after all I've done for you."

"I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?" Jim sighed.

"Not so long as I live and breathe," Blair swore.

"Which might not be much longer if we don't get rescued soon," Jim teased, rapping his fist smartly against Blair's skull.

"You know," Blair continued softly, pulling away from the Sentinel, "if I'd only let the vision happen when the headaches first started, we could have avoided this altogether."

Jim shifted to get a good look at his friend. "Don't you start blaming yourself for this, Chief. I was the one who badgered you to get control of the seizures. You were doing pretty well, too. I wouldn't expect you to just let one happen."

"Yeah, but if I had . . . "

"Let's not start with the 'but ifs', okay? I could have just as easily said I didn't like the look of those clouds and stayed in for the afternoon . . . but I didn't. Don't take more than your own share of the blame, kid."

"But . . ."

Jim shushed his guilt-laden friend, pressing fingers against the expressive lips to stop the flow of words. "You did the right thing, Blair. You did exactly what I would have expected of you. And then you risked your life to correct my mistake." He wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders, pulling him in close.

"Now who's taking more than their share of the blame?" Blair's voice was muffled against the warmth of Jim's chest.

"You don't know the half of it, Chief." The misery in Jim's voice went straight to the heart of the young man.

Lifting himself out of the sanctuary of Jim's arms, Blair studied the haggard features. Jim looked older than his years, exhaustion and injury marring the handsome features, and guilt layered heavily on his soul. "What's up, man?"

"The woman. . . . There was this woman. . . ." Jim staggered to a halt, unable for a moment to form a coherent thought.

"What woman, Jim?" Blair encouraged when his friend fell silent.

"The avalanche. . . . She was skiing behind me. Too far back. I couldn't get to her in time."

Blair snuggled closer in the tight confines of the cave. "And you feel responsible?"

"I should have done something more. Maybe I could have saved her."

"Or not, Jim. You probably both would have been killed if you'd tried."

"It's my job to protect. . . ."

"You can't save everybody all the time, Jim," Blair reasoned. "You did what you had to do."

"And now I get to live with it."

"Yeah, but at least you get to live."

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

The chase up the mountain was short-lived. With the blizzard creating white-out conditions, the patrol captain decided it was in his men's best interest to turn around. They dismounted their vehicles back at the lodge just as darkness was beginning to fall.

"Looks like we're going to have a major search-and-recovery mission in the morning," Steve told the patrolmen.

"Gives us a chance to break in our newest recruit," Janet Carter said, trying to make the best of a bleak situation.

"I was rather hoping to use Brandy on a search-and-rescue mission, not a search-and-recovery," Steve sighed, patting the sleek hide of the husky/wolf hybrid.

"She should be just as effective sniffing out bodies as she would be sniffing out survivors," Janet insisted.

"I know that, Carter," the captain snapped at her. "I just don't like recovery missions. Means we failed to do our duty."

"Yes, sir," the subdued patrolman acknowledged.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Turning on the flashlight, Blair rummaged through their meager supplies, producing three granola energy bars and a bottle of water. "Here, Jim." He offered the water. "Just a few small sips, okay?"

Propping himself up on one elbow, Jim took the bottle and drank. Blair then handed him an energy bar, which he devoured. Blair handed him a second bar, only nibbling at his own meal. He found he didn't have much of an appetite, but knew he had to keep up his strength.

When he had finished eating, Blair scrabbled at the snow around the entrance to their lair, trying to get a peek outside. He broke through, and was rewarded with a view of deep blue predawn sky.

"Hey, Jim! It's morning, and the snow has stopped!" Even in the confines of the small cave, Blair managed to bounce.

"I guess that means the ski patrol will be sending out recovery teams," Jim commented from where he lay on the floor.

"I sure hope so, man. I am so ready to be out of here!"

"Didn't you tell me you stole a snowmobile to get up here?" Jim searched his fuzzy memory of Blair's rescue story.

"Yeah, but you're in no shape to go riding down the mountain, and I'm not leaving you. Let's wait a bit and see if the rescue patrol gets here."

"I'll buy that, for now," the Sentinel conceded, "but if there's nothing by afternoon, I want you down off this mountain."

"Not without you, Jim," Blair stated flatly. "Wither thou goest, and all that crap."

"You're too damn stubborn for your own good, Sandburg."

"Yeah, well, I'm in excellent company then," came the retort.

Both men started to chuckle. Blair's laughter overtook him in a wave of hysteria. Clutching his stomach, he laughed until tears began to dampened his cheeks. Jim reached out to wipe them away, then gathered the younger man into a firm embrace.

"I . . . I'm not . . . leaving you," Blair choked out.

"It's okay, Chief. They're going to find us," Jim assured him.

Blair sniffed back the tears and pulled away slightly. "I know," he said, looking deeply into earnest blue eyes.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

As soon as dawn lit the skies over Mt. Rainier, the ski patrol donned their gear and mounted the snowmobiles. Steve Marston directed operations, sending three squads out in different directions. He teamed himself with Janet Carter and Brandy.

"Which way, sir?" Janet asked, making sure the dog was secured in her harness on the snowmobile.

"Up the northwest face," the captain told her, and started out.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

"I hear something," Jim muttered, trying to sit up.

Blair backed off from his post as watchman near the blockaded cave entrance. "What? I don't hear anything."

"It's faint. Engines, I think. The ski patrol has their search parties on the mountain."

"Terrific! Won't be long, then!"

"It's a big mountain, Chief," Jim reminded him.

Blair settled back, taking time to check Jim over again. "Has the feeling come back to your leg?" he worried.

"Oh, yeah. In spades," Jim answered. "I had to dial back to control the pain."

"It doesn't feel as though the bone is broken," Blair said, checking the length of the limb again. "Maybe you just sprained something?"

"More likely some torn ligaments," Jim told him. "We should probably splint it before I have to move."

"I saw some emergency splints in the snowmobile. I'll go get them." Blair moved toward the blocked entrance to the cave. The blizzard had blown snow to fill in all the cracks and pack the entrance in ice. Except for the small peek hole Blair had dug, the entrance was sealed. In the cramped quarters, the young man had difficulty getting the leverage needed to push the obstruction from the doorway.

"I think we're snowed in."

"Then we'll just have to wait, and hope they find us soon. They're getting closer."

"I can hear them!" Blair sat down next to the recumbent Sentinel. "Sure hope they see the flag."

"They'll be looking. These guys are good, Chief."

"I sure hope so, Jim, 'cause I think we're running out of air in here. I left enough cracks for fresh air circulation, but we're packed in tight, now, except for this one small hole. The air is getting kinda thick."

"Just lay down beside me and try to relax, Sandburg. Close your eyes. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Can't sleep, Jim. Gotta stay awake," Blair murmured at Jim's side.

Jim wrapped his arms protectively around his Guide. "It's okay now. Rest."

Blair's eyes slipped shut and his breathing evened out. Jim was sorely tempted to join the young man in sleep, but his need to stand guard, even injured and weakened as he was, was greater. He extended his hearing, tracking the advance of the rescue vehicles.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

Digging. The sound roused the drowsy Sentinel. "Blair." He shook his partner gently. "They're here."

Blair bolted awake, throwing himself at the entrance and digging frantically with frozen fingers. "We're here. We're in here!"

"How many of you are there?" came the welcome voice from outside.

"Two. My partner is hurt. He's got a concussion and an undiagnosed injury to his leg. We don't think it's broken, though."

"How about you?"

"Cold, but otherwise fine. Get us out. Please!"

A crack of sunlight filtered through the ice. Slowly the crack broadened, until the rescuers were able to pull back the snow block covering the entrance to the cave.

"You!" the patrol captain exclaimed upon seeing the mop of brown curls and bright blue eyes framed in the entry.

"Uh . . . hi." Blair grinned shyly. "Sorry about the snowmobile, but I had to find Jim."

"You dig this snow cave?"

"Yeah."

"Looks like you might have just saved your friend's life. Good work."

"Thanks." Blair looked around, spotting a young woman standing a few feet back holding what looked like a wolf on a leash. "How did you find us?"

"Brandy sniffed you out," the patrolman answered, clearly proud of her canine partner.

Blair crawled out of the cave, letting the captain in to assess Jim's condition and ready him for the trip back down the mountain. "Can I touch her?" Blair approached the animal.

"She's still a little skittish around strangers," the young woman warned. "She's got a great nose, but she's not really a people person," she chuckled. "She's half wolf; the wild animal in her makes her a little cantankerous."

"Oh, I think she and I could be good friends," Blair grinned, reaching up to let Brandy sniff his hand.

The dog accepted the overture, covering Blair's face with slobbery kisses. He laughed. "I think she likes me."

"It would appear she does." The patrolman watched with amazement. "I've never seen her act like that with anyone. Not even her handlers."

"I have an inside track with wolves," Blair told her enigmatically.

The patrol captain backed out of the snow cave. "I don't think your friend is going to get down the mountain on a snowmobile. Janet, would you please radio for a medevac helicopter?"

"Sure thing." She turned back toward the parked vehicles.

"How long will that take?" Blair asked.

"Not more than a few minutes," the man told him.

The patrol captain moved over to Blair and began a cursory exam. "Are you the fellow who caused all the stir in the lobby yesterday? Some kind of seizure?" He pulled up an eyelid to get a better look into the bloodshot blue.

Blair nodded. "But I'm fine. Really," he insisted.

"Just hold still while I check you out," the captain insisted.

Blair calmed down, letting the man give him a quick once-over. By the time they were done, the sound of a 'copter echoed up the mountain. The sound soon became a roar, as the huge machine set down nearby.

EMTs exited the medevac with a stretcher. Jim was soon stowed away comfortably, ready for the trip back down the mountain.

"I want to go with him," Blair insisted, starting to climb into the helicopter.

"No, you don't." The captain pulled him back. "There's not enough room. Besides, I need you to drive that extra snowmobile down the mountain." At Blair's worried look, he added, "Your friend is going to be fine. He'll beat us down and be waiting for you. Ready?" He slapped Blair's shoulder, then guided him back toward the waiting snowmobiles.

~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~ ~~*~~

"Guess this makes you my Blessed Protector." Jim smiled up at Blair from the warmth and security of his hospital bed. "And not for the first time," he added.

"Yeah?" Blair looked at the man in the bed with surprise.

"Remember that first day we met? I came by your office after that doctor-impersonation of yours at the hospital." Blair nodded. He remembered that day as if it were yesterday. It would be forever etched in the pathways of his mind. "Remember when I zoned on the Frisbee, and you saved me from becoming road kill?" Blair nodded, his eyes lighting in understanding.

"I've been your Blessed Protector longer than you've been mine!"

"Got it in one, Chief. I'd say this makes us equals, partners. Partners protect each other."

"Forever, man," Blair promised. "Forever."

To be continued in Buried Alive...

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