The entire village joined in the search. They had welcomed the professor into their camp, into their homes, and he had betrayed them. Even the kindly Inuit grew angry at such misuse of their trust and generosity.

Fortunately, the Inuit were expert trackers. Their very survival depended on their ability to hunt prey in the wilderness.

Hunting men was not that different

The Alaskan law enforcement officials were notified by two of the younger Inuit who hurried for assistance in the closest town.

But, Jim Ellison wasn't willing to wait for back-up.

By the time they tracked the fugitives to the airfield, the sky had turned heavy with impending snow. Jim extended his vision and hearing, searching ahead for signs of his partner and the men who had taken him.

Suddenly, he picked up on the sound of distant voices, and Jim stopped dead in his tracks. That voice... He knew that voice. But, where...?

"Rikert! Did you have the plane fueled as I asked? We must get off the ground..."

Running toward the landing strip, Jim searched his memory. That accent...that cold tone... Then, it came to him.

"Zeller!" Jim shouted as he, Neko, and the rest of the men from the camp raced at full speed across the snow.

There was only one figure standing on the runway, and it turned to stare at Jim with eyes as frigid as the ground on which they stood. Jim searched the area for his guide's heartbeat, but he found it hard to concentrate past the anger surging up within him. This was the man who had nearly killed his guide once, if not for the protection of a bullet proof vest, the man who had injected Blair with a deadly poison to force Jim to cooperate with his illegal plans. Now, Zeller had dared to take Blair Sandburg from him again, just when Jim had found him at long last.

"Stay back!" Jim ordered Neko and the Inuit.

Zeller smiled coldly. "Good advice, Detective. Words which you yourself would do well to follow."

Jim moved several steps closer to the killer. "Not a chance, Zeller. You're mine."

Suddenly, Jim heard a noise from beyond the small crowd of Inuit and swiveled his head to look and listen. Snowmobiles. The Alaskan police from Juno were almost to the top of the hill above the landing strip.

As Jim turned his head, Zeller didn't waste the opportunity. Bending at the waist and scooping up a handful of snow in one swift, fluid motion, he flung it hard, directly into the sentinel's eyes.

Pain erupted as Jim's eyes were stung by the hundreds of minute, stinging crystals. Yelping once in surprise, he covered his eyes with his hands, rubbing furiously to clear his sight. He could hear the footsteps approaching from the direction of the waiting villagers, then they stopped suddenly, as if they had frozen in their tracks.

The pain receding, Jim opened his eyes, preparing to pounce on Zeller. Even with his fuzzy vision, he had to try to take the man down.

"Hold it, Ellison!"

Jim turned toward the sound of Rikert's voice. He wiped the last of the snow from his eyes and started toward the fugitive. Then his vision cleared completely, and he froze in place.

Rikert was standing behind Blair with an arm wrapped about him, pinning his wrists in a painful-looking hold against the anthropologist's chest. His other hand held a gun pressed tightly to Blair's temple.

"Nicely done," Zeller said to his hired gun as he brushed the snow from his clothes and came to stand at his side.

Jim looked from Zeller to the approaching snowmobiles, fighting down the rage that threatened his judgment. Once again, Klaus Zeller and his cohort were using Blair's life as a pawn against him. Jim glowered, taking a slow step toward them.

"Let him go," Jim growled softly. "You don't need him."

Zeller ignored Jim as he instructed Rikert to head for the plane. The dark haired man did as he was told, roughly yanking Blair along with him, never moving the muzzle of the gun from his head.

"C'mon, Zeller, you don't need him!" Jim's voice was taking on a note of desperation. "Please, just let him go. You have a plane, you can escape." He gestured at the aircraft, swallowing hard as Blair's frightened eyes met his. "He'll just slow you down."

The two criminals snickered, and Rikert pressed the gun tighter to Blair's head, digging in to the skin of his temple. Blair winced, making a little sound of pain that tore at Jim's heart. Zeller patted Rikert's shoulder, then ran to the plane to start the engines.

"I suggest that you tell those men to drop their guns." Rikert said, yanking Blair tighter against his body. "Unless they want to see, first hand, exactly how many brain cells your little professor has."

Reluctantly taking his eyes off Blair, Jim whirled to the group of police officers and held up his hands.

"Don't shoot! Please, nobody shoot!" Jim shouted. To his relief, the captain of the troop raised a hand, and his men lowered their guns.

Blair closed his eyes as Rikert moved with him, forcing him to stumble backwards toward the plane. He purposely let his legs collapse, hoping to throw the thug off-balance. But the big man just tightened his arm around him and lifted him, then continued backing toward the plane, Blair's toes barely grazing the snow.

The anthropologist cast a helpless look at Jim, sadly whispering words only a sentinel could hear.

"I'm sorry, Jim."

"It'll be all right, Chief," Jim mouthed back silently. He nodded a little to his partner in reassurance, hoping his face showed more confidence than he felt.

The plane's propeller whirred to life, and the engine sputtered before rising into a steady hum. The Ice Man appeared at the door, and reached down as Rikert half carried, half dragged Blair through the snow.

Jim watched helplessly as Zeller grabbed Blair under the arms and hauled the smaller man up into the plane. Ellison saw his young friend struggling against The Ice Man. Then the villain backhanded Blair across the face, and all struggles ceased. The painful sound of the blow easily reached Jim's sentinel's ears, and he bristled.

Zeller dragged the now-limp body of Sandburg out of sight, then reached down and took the gun from Rikert. He kept it trained on Ellison as he stood aside to let his henchman climb into the plane.

"Well, Ellison," Zeller called pleasantly, "It looks as though we must part ways yet again."

Jim glanced stealthily sideways, keeping his hands up as Zeller spoke. He was eyeing the Juno PD snowmobile closest to him, its motor still running. An idea had formed. Granted, it was a crazy idea, but at the moment it was all he and Blair had, so Jim waited for the right moment put his plan into effect.

Klaus Zeller gave a thumbs up to Rikert, at the controls, and held on to the edge of the door with one hand as the plane slowly began to move. He looked toward Ellison one last time as he reached down to pull the door shut.

"Goodbye, Detective!" The Ice Man was smiling as he pulled the door shut and sealed it.

The second Zeller was out of sight, Jim moved. He bolted for the snowmobile and hopped on, ignoring the surprised objections of its owner. He quickly barked out Simon's phone number to the captain, and instructed him to call before revving the snowmobile's engines. The small, powerful vehicle shot off across the snow, in pursuit of the plane as it taxied away.

As Jim sped off, Neko slowly raised a hand and waved, as if giving a blessing. Anyone looking closely at the old man would've been shocked to see his eyes change from brown to the blue-green glow of a panther's gaze.

"Good luck, sentinel," growled Neko.

By the time the Inuit thought to look for the old man, he had vanished completely from their sight, not a single footprint left behind to mark his path.

"Give me your hands," Zeller sharply ordered the groggy anthropologist as Blair slowly sat up, rubbing his bruised cheek. The German knelt and roughly yanked Blair's wrists together, and bound them tightly in front of the young man's chest. He then looped the rope several times around Blair's upper body, effectively holding his upper arms at his sides. When he was finished, Blair's elbows were bent and his wrists were pinned uselessly to his chest.

Zeller finished tying Blair up and gave the kid a shove that sent him sprawling onto his back. Then he stood and moved to join Rikert in the cockpit.

Jim gunned the snowmobile's engines to the max, closing the distance between himself and the plane carrying his partner. He had only seconds before the plane would lift off, seconds to salvage any hope of rescuing Blair from those bastards.

Deftly, Jim guided the snowmobile under the plane, ducking his head at the tight fit. He reached one hand toward the wheel closest to him, and wrapped his fingers around the icy metal shaft of the landing gear. He pulled himself up, while simultaneously kicking the snowmobile's steering column, sending the vehicle sharply off to the right.

Jim hung onto the landing gear with all his might, breathing a sigh of relief as the snowmobile cleared the tail of the plane before flipping over and sliding to a halt.

A brief image of clinging to the bottom of a helicopter crossed his mind, and he shook his head. The things he went through for his guide.

Jim's thoughts were broken as the plane suddenly left the tarmac and began to climb into the sky. He climbed up the leg of the landing gear and straddled it, sitting on top of the wheel. His arms tightened their precarious hold, and Jim hunched his shoulders as the icy wind tore angrily at his face. He dialed down his sense of touch to reduce the pain of the wind chill, and squinted his watering eyes.

After getting used to the cold and wind, Jim looked up and studied the underside of the plane, searching for a way in. He found a hatch in the belly of the plane, which he figured was used for dropping off supplies by parachute.

Jim ran his fingers along the seams of the hatch, looking for a way to open it, a weakness in the metal. He found none. What he planned to do now, he couldn't say. All he could do was hold on and hope for the solution to present itself.

Inside the plane, Blair struggled to sit up; not an easy task when you couldn't move your arms or hands. He sat there on the cold floor, watching Rikert and Zeller with hatred. He hadn't given up hope yet, he was sure Jim would come for him. He always did.

"You know, I was thinking," Zeller was saying to Rikert, but making sure Blair could hear him, "It could be tricky getting rid of our young passenger once we land."

Rikert glanced up at Zeller, keeping his hands on the controls. Then he looked back over his shoulder at Blair. A slow, evil smile spread across his face as he understood.

Zeller came and knelt before Blair again. He cupped his hand under the young man's chin, and Blair drew back fearfully. Zeller just smiled, lightly stroking Blair's cheek with the muzzle of his gun. Then he pushed Blair's face away, sending him onto his back again.

Blair winced as his head struck the hard floor, and then watched The Ice Man move to lean against the doorway of the cockpit.

"Rikert, if you had any friends..." Zeller began thoughtfully, smiling as his henchman snickered.

"How you would feel if the one you were closest to disappeared off the face of the earth?" Zeller looked at Blair as he continued. "What if they never retrieved a body, and you never knew, for sure, if he was dead or alive?"

Blair's breath began to come in harsh gasps.

Rikert pretended to think about it. "That would be awful, man!" he said cheerfully, looking back to sneer at Blair.

"Wouldn't it though?" Zeller was practically giggling as he studied his captive.

Blair watched as Zeller moved into the cockpit and patted Rikert on the shoulder. The two men switched places, Zeller taking the plane's control and Rikert standing.

"Take care of him," Zeller said, handing Rikert the gun.

The thug nodded, and entered the cargo area of the plane. He smiled at Blair as he reached down and unlatched the hatch in the floor. He pulled it open, and the cargo hold was immediately filled with cold, whistling wind.

Blair used his legs to scramble backwards from the opening, eyes widening in terror as he realized what was about to happen to him. Rikert leveled the gun at him, and Blair acted.

Rolling backwards he kicked both legs up, knocking the gun from Rikert's hand. The weapon sailed through the cargo area and vanished amidst the clutter of parcels on the floor.

"Ow! You little shit!" Rikert yelped, waving his hand. He was about to start looking for the gun, when a better idea crossed his mind. A slow smile of evil darkened his face as he looked from Blair to the open hatch.

"Well," Rikert said, "If you're going to be that way about it, I see no need to waste a bullet on you." He reached down and grabbed Blair's bound wrists.

"I'll just let gravity do the job for me."

"Nooooo!" Blair wailed. "No!! No please!!!! PLEASE!!!!" He began to thrash and struggle as he was hoisted clumsily to his feet. Rikert spun him to face away from the hatch, but not before the anthropologist caught a glimpse of the clouds drifting past the opening, and the white and gray ground far below.

"Nooo!!!" In spite of himself, Blair felt tears welling up in his eyes as the larger man dragged him toward the opening. {No, God, no please, not this, anything but this... Jim...!}

Rikert kept his iron hold on Blair, marveling a little at the young man's hidden strength. He never expected him to put up this much of a fight. Terror could do amazing things to a person.

Neither Blair nor Rikert noticed the large, powerful hand that reached up from below to clamp itself over the lip of the open hatch behind them. The two continued to struggle as a figure pulled himself slowly, with grim determination, up through the hatch and into the plane.

"No, don't! Please, pleeeeeaaase!!!!" Blair begged, his voice cracking with strain and emotion. He squeezed his eyes shut as Rikert wrapped his arms around his waist from behind and picked him up. Blair kicked helplessly, trying to get free, but it was useless; Rikert was too strong for him.

Sandburg could feel the wind tearing at his clothes, and knew they were right next to the hatch now. He said a silent prayer to whatever deities had watched over him in the past, a second one for them to watch over Jim, and prepared to die.

Rikert was just turning to dump Sandburg out of the plane when there was a tap on his shoulder. Confused, he looked around just in time for his left cheekbone to meet Jim Ellison's right hook. Blair slipped from his arms and collapsed to the floor with a thud.

Jim threw all the anger in his body into the punch, and grinned in satisfaction as Rikert's body crumpled into a limp heap at his feet. His satisfaction quickly turned to concern when his gaze settled on the small figure curled on the floor, trembling.

Blair curled into himself, drawing his knees up and hiding his face with his bound hands. He didn't know what had just happened, but since he'd been expecting to fall out into space, the shock of instead landing on the floor of the plane was nearly overwhelming.

Hands touched his back and Blair yelped, trying feebly to scoot away. He kept his face hidden as he was turned over and pulled to sit up, his upper arms grasped in strong hands.

"Chief, you okay?"

Blair opened his eyes at the sound of a soft, familiar voice. He lowered his hands see Jim's concerned face gazing at him, wind burned and red, eyes tearing and swollen. Blair could only guess at what the big man had gone through to reach him.

Jim smoothed the hair back from Blair's brow with both hands, tilting his face up to check him for injuries. When he was satisfied Blair wasn't badly hurt, he moved his hands to his wrists and gently untied him. The instant Blair was free, he lunged forward into Jim's embrace with a gasp.

Blair closed his eyes, trembling with relief as the strong arms encircled him and held him tight. The recent events took their toll, and it suddenly sunk in how much he had missed his partner. He was embarrassed to hear a hitch begin in his breathing. Tears burned his eyes, and he buried his face in Jim's coat, clutching feebly at the fabric with his numbed fingers.

Jim tightened his arms around Blair as the young man began to shake, relieved beyond measure that he'd been in time. The sound of soft crying reached his powerful ears, despite the wind still howling past the open hatch. He wrapped one arm around Blair's head, tousling the wind-blown mass of curls as he murmured soothingly to his frightened guide.

"Shhhhh.... Easy now, it's okay.... I gotcha.... It's okay...,"

"Omigod Jim...," Blair gasped, "He... he was gonna... th... throw me...."

"Shhh, I know," Jim said gently, holding him tighter, relishing the warmth of the smaller man's closeness. It had been far too long since he'd smelled his guide's scent and heard the familiar rhythm of his heart singing.

Blair clung tighter to his Blessed Protector, snuggling into the warm folds of Jim's coat as tears streamed down his face. He felt a large hand move to cradle the side of his face, and the rough pad of a thumb began to gently brush the tears from his cheek.

"Shhhhshshshsh....," Jim breathed wordless comfort into the dark curls, moving his hand again to cup the back of Blair's scalp, tucking the smaller man's head protectively under his chin. He held his guide close, all thoughts of Zeller and their still-precarious situation forgotten for the moment. Right now, his thoughts were focused on his friend, as he quietly reassured the younger man that he was safe, they were together, and everything would be all right.

"Rikert, what the hell is taking so long?" Zeller called back, shivering. He was freezing, and wanted the damned hatch closed. How long could it take to toss one scrawny, bound academic out of a plane, for crying out loud?

Jim's head snapped up as Zeller's shout drifted back to them. He looked toward the cockpit just as The Ice Man turned in his seat, his pale eyes going wide as they settled on Ellison.

Jim surged to his feet and charged toward the cockpit, but Zeller was too fast. Ellison slammed into the small metal door of the cockpit as Zeller swung it shut with a bang. He tried the latch, but it was locked securely from the inside. A swift kick to the locking mechanism was fruitless; the door was solidly built.

With a curse, Jim left the door and returned to Blair's side. The young man had gotten unsteadily to his feet, scrubbing the remains if his tears from his face. Jim held him by the arm until he stood solidly.

"You all right?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I'm okay," he said. "Thanks, Jim," he added quietly, with a smile.

Jim smiled back, squeezing his shoulder. "Anytime, buddy."

Blair sighed and gestured with his chin toward the locked door of the cockpit. "So what are we gonna do now?" he asked.

Jim was looking around the cargo area for something to use to break the lock on the cockpit door. "We've gotta get to Zeller," Jim said as he searched. "Who knows where we'll end up if he keeps control of this plane?"

Blair nodded and began to shove parcels aside, looking for anything that might be useful. He made it a point to keep clear of the open hatch, and was about to suggest that they close it, when he found what he was looking for.

"Hey, Jim!"

Ellison turned at the rear of the plane, holding a parachute he'd been about to toss aside in his search. His face brightened when he saw Blair smiling, holding up Rikert's gun. Jim grinned and gave his young partner a thumbs up.

"Excellent, Chief," Jim began, walking toward him with the chute tucked under his arm. "Here, give me.... LOOK OUT!!!"

Jim's warning came an instant too late. Rikert grabbed Blair from behind, apparently having recovered from Jim's blow. Blair lost his grip on the gun, which clattered to the floor. He struggled with Zeller's right-hand man and they lurched dangerously close to the open hatch

Jim was hurrying toward them from the back of the plane, still carrying the parachute. He was drawing back his fist to lay out Rikert, but it was too late.

With one final push, Rikert sent himself and Blair, both without chutes, tumbling out the open hatch of the plane.

"Nooooo!" Blair's shriek of terror came back to Jim, as he watched his friend vanish from sight. Ellison only paused for a moment, before diving out the door himself, quickly shrugging into the parachute as he did so.

{This can't possibly work!} Jim thought. But he had to try. He fastened the chute's straps around his thighs and chest as he fell, searching the expanse of space below him.

Two tiny specks caught his eye, and Jim stretched his body out like an arrow, aiming for them. He hoped Blair would think to try and slow his fall by creating wind resistance, so Jim could catch up with him. The kid had to know that Jim would save him, or at least try. After all, he'd only been doing it constantly since they'd first met.

The wind screamed in Jim's ears, and he dialed down his sense of hearing a little. Instead he focused on sight, zooming his focus on the two figures he was gaining on at last. Rikert seemed to be trying to strangle Blair.

{This guy isn't dealing with a full deck}, Jim thought, {Why waste his strength on trying to kill Blair in mid-air? He's got to realize the fall will kill both of them!} But that wasn't going to happen, he told himself. Not if he could help it!

He moved his legs slightly, just enough to change direction, still gaining speed.

Blair was trying to keep his body horizontally spread out, to try and slow his fall. He knew it was hopeless; there was no way he'd be able to slow down enough to survive. Even landing on water at this speed would shatter every bone in his body. At the same time Blair was thinking this, he was also trying to pry Rikert's fingers loose from his throat.

{When I do die} he thought, {it's going to be from hitting the ground, not from you choking me to death, I promise you that!} Zeller's goon apparently hadn't noticed that they were both falling out of the sky.

Sandburg managed to loosen the other man's fingers enough to get a gasp of air and planted a foot on Rikert's chest, kicking him away. Blair looked down, to try and judge how long he had left to live.

There was so much he had wanted to do. Cultures he'd wanted to study, places he hadn't gotten to see, girls he hadn't yet had time to date. Worst of all, he'd never had the chance to tell Jim how much he cared about him, what a good friend he was....

A flurry of movement off to Blair's left caught his eye, and he turned in mid-air to see Rikert drifting toward him again, this time with a knife glinting in his grasp. Blair just looked at him in disbelief. Didn't this guy EVER give up? As best as he could, Blair turned to face the assassin again, wondering how well self-defense moves would work in free-fall.

Jim was close, and getting closer fast. He'd been counting the seconds after he jumped, knowing that if he didn't pull the chute in time it wouldn't matter if he reached Blair or not, they'd both be dead. He could clearly see the two figures below him now, even without sentinel sight. His heart lurched when he saw the glint of metal in Rikert's hand, as the big man started toward Blair again.

{That is the most persistent assassin I have ever seen!} he thought. Jim aimed his body straight at Rikert's back, balling his fists out in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that he must look like Superman as he braced himself. The distance between he and Blair's would-be murderer quickly dwindled to nothing.

Blair tensed, holding up an arm to protect himself as Rikert brought the knife down in a slashing arc at him. Even as he did, he knew it was no use; he wasn't strong enough to deflect the larger man's blow. He shut his eyes, waiting to feel the blade slice through his flesh.

The muffled {Whump!} of two bodies colliding reached Blair's ears over the howl of the air passing by. He cautiously opened his eyes to see Rikert's lifeless body spinning away from him. {What the...}

Blair was puzzled, then another figure just above him caught his eye. Startled, his head shot up just in time to see Jim's big hand reaching for him. Blair reached up and Jim grabbed his wrist, pulling him in close to his body.

{Is there anything this man won't do for me?} Blair thought as Jim motioned for him to hold on. He wrapped his arms tightly around the sentinel's neck and squeezed his eyes shut as Jim slipped an arm around his waist and pulled the ripcord. {Oh God, please let this work!}

With a fluttering and whistling of silk and air, the great chute bloomed to life above them. There was a jolt as the parachute snapped open, and Jim quickly tightened his arm around Sandburg's waist in case his partner's grip wasn't good. Actually, he realized, it was a fine grip; he could barely breathe!

"Chief!... ACK!...Chief, let me breathe a little, huh?" Jim pulled at the arms laced tightly around his neck with his free hand. Blair's eyes were still squeezed tightly shut, and he now wrapped his long legs around Jim's waist. Jim snickered a little.

"Chief, c'mon, relax...we're fine!"

Slowly, Blair loosened his death-grip on Jim's neck a bit, keeping his legs twined around Jim's hips. He opened his eyes to find the big man grinning at him.

"You okay?" Jim asked, his voice amused.

Blair's face was white, and he was shaking like a leaf. He hoped briefly that he wouldn't throw up on his Blessed Protector; it wouldn't be a good way of showing gratitude.

He nodded a little bit at Jim's inquiry, being careful not to look down. His heart had been beating so hard he was afraid it might burst, but now it began to slow. He looked at Jim again, then up, scanning for the plane that was long gone, along with their chance of re-capturing Zeller.

"He's gone Chief." Jim said, reading his thoughts. "We lost him." Jim shrugged. There wasn't much else to say. Satisfied that Blair was holding on tight, Jim let go of his waist and reached up to take hold of the guiding lines of the parachute.

Blair nodded sadly, the realization of what Jim had just done slowly sinking in. Jim had given up the chance to put away a killer in order to save his Shaman.

"I did it again, didn't I? He got away because of me." Blair sank his head down on Jim's shoulder in despair.

"It wasn't your fault!" Jim said firmly. "You got pushed out of a plane, for God's sake!" He shook his head in frustration. Why did his partner always try to blame himself when things went wrong?

"Don't worry, Chief, we'll get him!" Jim said, trying to reassure the miserable younger man.

Sandburg shrugged feebly, lifting his head, but refusing to meet his friend's eyes.

"Yeah, right.... We'll get him. As long as I don't ever get involved again." The anthropologist's voice was laden with misery.

Jim sighed. "Blair.... Blair, look at me." He made the young man meet his gaze, and continued softly, "It was my decision to jump out of that plane. I could have stayed and taken Zeller into custody."

No response.

"C'mon, Chief, what did you expect me to do?" Jim asked in exasperation, his temper flaring up.

Blair looked at his friend, then up at the wide sky, imagining Jim plunging out of the plane to come after him. He sighed mightily.

"Well I sure didn't expect you to do THAT!" He giggled a little, feeling a tad hysterical over the events of the last few minutes. He winced and let go of Jim's waist, letting his cramping legs hang down.

Jim laughed as well. "Yeah, well, to be honest...neither did I." He looked up and pulled a little on the guiding lines, letting some air out from under the chute and speeding their descent.

"The last thought I had as I cleared the hatch was 'What the hell am I doing'?!" Jim added.

Blair chuckled. "Well, I think my last thought was something more along the lines of 'AAAAUUUUGH'!!!!"

They were both chuckling as the ground came up to meet them. Jim let go of the guiding lines to hook an arm under Blair's legs, scooping him up as he prepared to touch down. He hit the ground running, tripped, and sent both of them tumbling down in a heap, the chute settling over them like a shroud.

***********************