"You weren't listening, were you?" The teasing accusation drifted across the yard.

"Who? Me?" Jim shook his head, dialing down his senses to something more passing for normal, as he watched his partner's return. Suddenly, Blair disappeared, as though the earth had swallowed him. He didn't need sentinel senses to hear the resulting cry.

Sighting the hole with enhanced senses, he ran across the yard. Dropping to his knees, he peered into the abandoned well. He could see the young man, trapped a long way down, well out of his reach.

"Blair! Are you all right? Answer me!" He let the desperation he suddenly felt slip into his voice.

"I've been better," came the weak, but cocky, answer.

"Hold on! I'm going back to the car to radio for help."

"I'm not going anywhere," Blair replied.

Jim returned a few minutes later. "Help's on the way." Bending over the hole, he thanked the powers that be for his sentinel sight. Twenty feet down the narrow, dark shaft, Blair was trapped. All Jim could see of his friend was an arm sticking up and the top of his head. "Can you look up at me, Chief?" Long hair, in wild disarray, clung damply to the pale face that tilted up toward the small circle of light. "Good. That's good. Can you tell me how badly you're hurt?"

"I dunno, Jim. My left arm is pinned against the wall. It's really hard to breathe. I think I might have busted a rib or two in the fall. And my ankle hurts like hell." The last statement was followed by a slight gasp as his movements caused Blair to settle a bit deeper. "My feet are wet. I hurt all over. And I'm cold." He spoke in short sentences, punctuated by rapid, shallow breaths. Add in the fact that his heart rate was elevated, and Jim began to seriously worry about his friend.

"Think you could get a rope around yourself if I drop one down to you?"

"I dunno. Maybe." A slight pause for a few rapid breaths. "Get me out of here, Jim. Please?"

"Just as soon as I can. I promise. I'm going to go get the rope. I promise, I'll be right back."

"Don't go, Jim! Please. Don't go!"

"But, how do you expect me to get you out?"

"I can wait for the others. Just don't leave. Okay?"

Jim could hear the edge of panic in his friend's voice. Sandburg had proven himself to be quite strong and resilient in the past, considering he'd faced more life-threatening situations than the average anthropology grad student. But everyone had their limits, and it sounded as though Blair was rapidly reaching his.

Jim could feel the cool evening breeze as the sun set. The days might still be warm, but the nights got downright cold. Blair, in his tee shirt and jeans, risked hypothermia if he wasn't rescued soon.

"You got it, partner. I'm not going anywhere."

"My head hurts, Jim," Blair mumbled. "Really tired."

"Don't go to sleep, Sandburg! Hear me? You've got to stay awake!" Rummaging for an idea, he finally hit on Blair's tendency toward constant chatter. "Tell me a story, Chief. Tell me about your sentinel research. In detail."

For the next hour, Jim listened to his Guide tell him the intimate details of tribal culture, and how it related to the sentinels. Occasionally, he had to encourage his friend to continue. It was obviously hard for him to catch enough breath to talk in more than short, stilted sentences.

Finally, help arrived. Rescue equipment, followed by an ambulance, pulled into the yard of the old cabin. As the rescuers began to set up the floodlights, Captain Simon Banks climbed out of his vehicle and hurried to where his detective was kneeling over an absolutely tiny hole in the ground.

"What's happened here? How's Sandburg?" he demanded.

Jim looked up, tension lining his face. "Blair was walking back across the yard and stepped on some rotten planks covering this abandoned well. He's wedged down there, about twenty feet." Simon groaned, attempting to see down the dark hole. "At the very least, he's got some bumps and bruises. It sounds as though he could have one or more broken ribs, and his ankle is either twisted or broken. He says it hurts like hell. We have to get him out of there! It's been hard keeping him lucid. He's going into shock, Simon."

"We'll get him out, Jim. He's going to be all right."

"I hope you're right. He may be a pain in the ass, but he's my pain in the ass. I want him back."

"Jim?" came a weak voice, too quiet for anyone else to hear. "What's going on up there?"

"The rescue guys are here, Chief. We'll have you out soon."

"Hope so. Cold." The last word was drawn out, punctuated by the chattering of teeth.

The rescue workers finally had the scene lit brightly and were getting out their equipment. First to come was a rope.

"Give that to me," Jim barked, grabbed the strong, nylon cable and tying a loop in one end. "Blair? I'm lowering a rope. See if you can get it under your arms. We'll pull you up."

"'Kay," came the quiet response.

When the rope reached him, Blair grabbed at it with his one free hand. Sliding his arm through the loop, he shrugged it over his head. Struggle though he did, he couldn't get his left arm free. "Can't get my arm loose!" he called.

"Have you got the rope around you the best you can?"

"Yeah."

"Then get ready. We're going to pull."

"'Kay."

Jim could hear Blair's heart rate increase in anticipation and his shallow breathing speed up.

"Calm down, Chief! You're going to hyperventilate. Can't have you passing out on us!" Jim stretched out near the well, sticking his face into the hole to get a better look at his friend. "Try to slow your breathing. Long, slow breaths. Like you taught me. Now's the time to put your meditation techniques to the test." He listened as Blair's breathing slowed.

"Okay. I'm ready," he called.

Jim started pulling. Simon, and several of the rescue workers, picked up the rope, knowing they'd be hauling dead weight. Blair was in no condition to help his climb out. A cry stopped the team.

"OW! Owowowowowow!! Stop! Please!"

"Blair? What's wrong?" Jim leaned over the well once more.

"Can't budge, man. I'm stuck. I mean really stuck! You're pulling my arm off here!"

Jim sighed, turning to the others. "It isn't working. He's pinned tight down there."

"Now what do we do?" Simon asked. "Dig him out?"

"We'd have to get a backhoe up here," a rescue worker, Timmons according to his name tag, commented. "Can't dig that deep fast enough by hand."

"How long to get the equipment here? Sandburg's been down that hole nearly five hours already!" Jim let his agitation show.

"A few hours. Maybe two or three," Timmons answered. "There's been some roadwork going on further down the highway. There should be equipment there we could use. We'll need to find the foreman, get permission--and the keys."

"Then get going!" Captain Banks ordered.

Jim shivered in the cool night air. Sensitive ears picked up the tremulous "Jim?" coming from the well. "Right here, Chief. How are you holding up?"

"It's freezing down here, man! I'm soaking wet."

"We can drop you a blanket."

"Not enough room. Just get me out of here!"

"We're trying. We're trying."

"How long?" A note of fear obvious in the soft voice.

He didn't want to have to be the one to tell his friend at least another couple hours...just to get the equipment in. It could be many more before he was finally extricated.

"How long?" came the petulant whisper.

"A while yet, Blair. Just hang in there."

"I'm tired. So sleepy."

"I know. I know. You have to stay awake." Jim thought for a bit before inspiration hit again. "Remember when you told me about ditching the diary and saving your memoirs for your old age?"

"Yeah, but am I going to get any older?"

"Don't talk like that! Of course you are! What would I do without you around to continually talk my ear off?" That comment elicited a weak chuckle from the trapped man. "Tell me about your exploits. Don't leave out a single detail."

"That's going to take a while, man. I've been busy." Another chuckle.

Good. Blair's sense of humor was still intact. That was a good sign. "Great. So start now. You can finish the tale when we're safe at home."

"With a warm blanket and some hot tea on the couch?"

"And all the hot water in the shower. Just hang in there until we get you out."

"'Kay," the soft sigh issued up the shaft.

"So?"

"So, what?"

"Your memoirs, Chief. I'm waiting."

Another chuckle and Blair began talking once again.

The backhoe proved to be insufficient to dig the rescue shaft deep enough. More precious time was lost as well-digging equipment needed to be located and brought in. As they finally hit the twenty-foot mark, Blair's approximate depth in the well, the hole began to fill with water.

"Shit!" Jim exclaimed, watching the water rise.

"What's wrong?" Blair stopped his story to ask.

"Nothing you have to worry about." Jim tried to sound reassuring. "Whatever happened to Rachel?" The question set the young man off and running on his tale again.

The water stopped rising, forming a pool in the bottom of the hole. Two of the rescuers climbed down and began to dig the connecting shaft. Work continued slowly, as the dirt needed to be hauled out by hand. A pump was brought in to keep the water level down, but it didn't seem to do much good.

Sandburg's voice was getting weaker. Like the trooper Jim knew him to be, he kept on talking, long past the time he would have rather drifted off into oblivion.

The sun began to peek through the trees as a new day dawned. Blair had already spent over twelve hours in that blasted shaft.

"We're through!" The triumphant cry finally lifted from the bottom of the pit. "Just a little longer. We need to widen the hole!" A short while later.... "We can see his feet!"

"Almost there, Chief. Won't be much longer now," Jim told his friend.

"Good thing. Don't think I could have kept this up much longer."

"Don't give up on us now. Hang tight. I'm going to come down and help you out."

A hand on his arm stopped the detective from jumping into the pit to extricate his friend. "Leave it to us, Detective Ellison. We'll get him out."

"Like hell you will!" He slid down the ladder, his feet barely touching the rungs during his descent. He crawled into the connecting shaft, followed by the smaller Timmons.

"You grab his legs, and I'll dig him out," Timmons said as they reached the well.

Jim felt relief seeing those very familiar legs hanging in front of him. Wrapping his arms around Blair's knees, he smiled. "It's just me, Chief. We've almost got you now."

His smile turned to a frown as he heard a soft exhalation and Blair's heart rate and breathing slow alarmingly. "We have to get him out. NOW!" He tugged on the young man's legs as Timmons redoubled his efforts with the shovel.

What felt like an eternity passed before a comforting weight slid into Jim's arms. Hugging his friend tightly to his chest, he breathed a quick sigh of relief. Hurrying out of the tunnel with his burden, he found himself loath to relinquish his hold. Other hands pried Blair's body from his grasp and placed him on a backboard, lifting him out of the pit.

A quick assessment in the back of the ambulance, and they were off to the hospital, leaving Jim and Simon behind with the rest of the rescue crew. The pit next to the well looked surreal in the artificial light. Stumbling to the truck, he climbed behind the wheel. As he pulled out to follow the ambulance, Captain Banks tailed him, making sure that Jim also made it to the hospital in one piece.

Jim paced the waiting area of the Urgent Care ward. Simon, who had been fidgeting in a chair behind the prowling detective, stood as a doctor approached. "Jim Ellison?"

"How's Blair?"

"I'm Doctor Weaver. I've been treating Mr. Sandburg. Actually, considering what he's been through, he's not in too bad a shape. He broke his right ankle and a couple of ribs. Other than that, it's mostly just bruises and scrapes. Understandably, he was dehydrated and hypothermic, but he's coming around nicely."

"When can I see him?" Jim's intense blue eyes locked onto the doctor's.

"He should be settled in his room in about fifteen minutes. You can see him then. He'll be groggy. We've got him on pain meds. If all goes well, he could be discharged in two to three days."

"That's great news! Thank you, Doctor Weaver." Simon Banks shook the doctor's hand.

"Yeah. Great!" Jim agreed.

"Room 213, just down the hall," Doctor Weaver pointed. "You can wait for him in there."

"Thanks again," Jim offered.

"You're quite welcome. Mr. Sandburg is a tough young man. He'll be fine."

"I think I'll go outside where I can have a smoke," Simon said, pulling the cigar case from his pocket. "I'll meet you up in Sandburg's room later."

Nodding his thanks, Jim headed down to Room 213.

Settling in, he waited for the orderly to bring Blair down to his room. When he was finally transferred to the bed, Jim was struck with how pale his friend had become. Needles and tubing bristled from his arms, and he was on oxygen, but Jim thought he'd never looked better. Curling his fingers around one limp hand, he waited for his friend to awaken.

"Jim?" A whisper-light voice woke him from where he'd fallen asleep against the railing of the bed, his hand still entwined with Blair's.

"Hey, Chief! Glad you're back." Jim smiled, blue eyes sparkling. "You had me worried there for a bit."

"I had me worried there for a bit. Man, I gotta tell you...watch that last step, it's a doozie!" He chuckled softly before his face screwed up with pain. "Ow! Oh, ow! Geez, it hurts to laugh...."

"That's probably because you broke a couple ribs, Chief. And your ankle. Doc says that other than bumps and scrapes, that's about the worst of it. You'll be coming home in a few days if all goes well."

"What'dya mean, 'if all goes well'?"

"I know you, Chief. You give the doctors fits." He ruffled his hand through the mass of dark curls, before resting it on the top of Blair's head. "Behave yourself, and you're out in two. Give 'em grief, and I may not get you back for a week!" Jim chuckled.

Blair groaned and shifted uncomfortably in the bed. "I hate hospitals!"

"Yeah, and you've seen more than your share of the inside of them since hooking up with me. I know. I'm really sorry about that, Blair. You know I'd take your place in a heartbeat, if I could. I'm just glad that after an ordeal like that, you're doing as well as you are."

"I don't feel like I'm doing so great right now."

"Understandable. You did spend the entire night at the bottom of a very deep well. Geez, Blair, will you please quit scaring me like that?" He smiled weakly. "I think you took five years off my life with that stunt. I'm not as young as I used to be."

Blair chuckled despite the pain, and patted Jim's hand reassuringly. "Guess that means you ought to go home and get some rest. Please don't take this the wrong way, but you look like shit." A smile teased his lips as he watched his Sentinel react.

"I'm not leaving. Not while you still need me."

"Well, I don't. Not right now, Jim. You need rest. I'm fine. Really." He winced as his ribs pinched again, but managed a grin. "Please go home and get some sleep. I'll let you come back tonight."

"You'll 'let' me? You'll LET me?" Jim sputtered, raising a finger to shake at his friend. "I'd like to see you try and stop me!"

"Good-bye, Jim."

"You sure you're okay?"

A pretty young nurse slipped past the tall detective with a push cart of supplies. "Ready for your bath, Mr. Sandburg?" She smiled sweetly.

Blair cocked his head and rolled his eyes toward the nurse. "Yeah, Jim, I'm just fine. Real fine, in fact! See you this evening."

With a resigned chuckle, Jim turned to go.

Grabbing the doorjamb in his haste, Jim swung into the room to find Blair sitting in a wheelchair, his belongings already settled in his lap. He was chatting up the pretty nurse who was waiting to take him to the discharge area.

"Ready to go, Chief?"

"You bet! It's going to be great getting out of here."

"Yeah, I'll just bet," Jim replied dryly, smiling at the nurse.

"Blair's been a model patient," Tina assured him, "but he's made it very clear this is not his favorite place to be." She smiled and released the brake on the chair. "You're going to behave yourself for Jim, here, aren't you, Sweetcakes?"

Blair winced.

"'Sweetcakes'?" Jim's voice took on a teasing tone.

Blair just smiled and shrugged as Jim shook his head in defeat. There was no stopping the Sandburg charm.

They reached the loading area of Discharge, and Tina set the brake. Jim opened the truck's door, and the two of them helped Blair into the vehicle.

"See you Friday?" Tina smiled, as she closed the door.

"It's a date!" Blair replied, leaning out the window for one last, quick kiss.

"You're incorrigible!" Jim laughed, pulling the car into the late morning traffic.

"It's good having you back home again," Jim said, holding the door as Blair swung in on his crutches. "Place was kind of empty without you."

"Really?" The young anthropologist seemed almost surprised.

"Yeah. Really." Placing his arm around Blair's waist, he guided his friend over to the couch and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. "Just give me a minute to nuke the tea for you."

Blair smiled as he watched Jim amble into the kitchen. He returned shortly with a steaming mug. "Just as I promised."

Sitting next to his friend, he watched carefully as Blair lifted the mug to his lips and cautiously sipped.

"Mmmm...that's great, man. Thanks." Wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic, he leaned against Jim's shoulder.

Taking the cue, Jim enveloped the younger man in his arms, pulling him close to his chest. "Don't you ever do anything like that again," he said, brushing stray strands of hair out of Blair's face.

"Cross my heart and hope to..."

"DON'T say it, Chief. Don't say it." Jim wrapped his arms tighter around his friend and held him as though his own life depended on it.