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.

Acknowledgments: Many thanks go to my beta readers, Terri and H-A for their invaluable assistance.

Additional Note: This story was my very first foray into The Sentinel fan fiction, in May 2000. At the time it was written, I hadn't seen the entire series yet, including "Poachers." It was originally written as a gen story, but was rewritten as mild slash for the zine Destined: Tales of a Sentinel and His Guide, Vol. 1.

Rating: PG

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings: m/m

Summary: Blair takes a misstep and ends up in deep trouble.

A warm, late-fall sun shone down on the two fishermen standing thigh-deep in the cold stream. A quiet camaraderie passed between them as they cast their lines into the flowing water. They had earned the respite from the real world, bringing down a major drug ring doing business in Cascade the week before. Unfortunately, it was getting late, and Jim was forced to consider that it was time to be heading back to the city. Laughter brought his head around, allowing him to temporarily put off the inevitable.

"Got one!" Blair cried, reeling in the fighting fish. Jim grabbed the net and slipped it under the catch.

"Hey! That's great! He's a real beauty! I think that one takes the prize for this trip."

The sparkle in his lover's eyes brought a smile to his lips. He couldn't remember the last time they'd been able to enjoy themselves this much. As aggravating as the young anthropologist could sometimes be, Jim often wondered what he had ever done before the kid's arrival in his life. Blair had turned his world upside down and set him on his head, but, he had come to discover, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You think so?" his partner asked, wading to the bank of the stream behind Jim. "That last one you caught was no 'toss-away' either."

"We'll have a great dinner, once we get home." Walking up the bank to the tree line, Jim stopped beside the tent. "Time to pack. Reality beckons." Blair moaned softly, but set about striking the tent and packing up.

The couple gathered their gear and hoisted the heavy packs onto their backs. It was a long hike back to the hunter's cabin where they had parked the truck. By the time they arrived, the sun was beginning to set.

"I've gotta take a leak," Blair said, slipping the pack from his shoulders and tossing it in the back of the truck. "Be right back."

"Just watch where you're going, Chief."

"Yeah. Yeah." Blair smiled and waved dismissively as he headed off toward the trees behind the cabin.

Jim extended his hearing to keep track of the young man. As much as he hated invading Blair's privacy, he worried. His partner seemed to be a virtual magnet for trouble, even when doing something as mundane as taking a piss in the woods. Jim had lost track of the number of times his lover had been accosted, shot, knocked out, bumped, bruised, kidnapped and tortured. It was a wonder he managed to survive; but for that, Jim was eternally grateful to whatever powers ruled the universe.

~oO0Oo~

"You weren't listening, were you?" The teasing accusation drifted across the yard as Blair made his way back toward the truck.

"Who? Me?" Jim shook his head, dialing down his senses to what passed 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 startled cry that rang out from across the road.

Jim focused his sight on the yard behind the cabin, zeroing in on a dark hole near the line of trees. He ran to the abandoned well, dropping to his knees. The breath caught in his throat as he peered into the opening. He could see the curly mop of brown hair wedged in the narrow shaft far beyond his reach.

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

"I've been better," Blair replied, his voice weak, but still infused with his characteristic cockiness.

Jim breathed a sigh of relief. "Hold on!" he commanded. "I'm going back to the car to radio for help."

"I'm not going anywhere." Blair's voice drifted up from the depths.

~oO0Oo~

Jim returned a few minutes later, kneeling next to the narrow opening. "Help's on the way," he assured his lover.

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 lover 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?" He held his breath, waiting for the answer.

"I dunno," Blair's voice drifted up from the blackness. "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 him to settle a bit deeper. "My feet are wet. I hurt all over. And I'm cold." Blair spoke in short sentences, punctuated by rapid, shallow breaths. Add in the fact that his heart rate was elevated, and Jim began to be seriously worried.

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

"I dunno. Maybe." There was a slight pause while Blair took a few rapid breaths. "Jim, get me out of here, okay?"

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

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

The panic in Blair's voice brought Jim back down to his knees. "But, how do you expect me to get you out?" he asked, desperation coloring his words.

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

Jim could hear the escalation of panic in his lover's voice. Blair had proven himself to be quite strong and resilient in the past, but everyone had a limit, and it sounded as though his partner was rapidly reaching his.

The cool evening breeze brushed across his face as Jim watched the sun slowly set. The early autumn days might still be warm, but the nights were getting cold. Blair, in his T-shirt and jeans, risked hypothermia if he wasn't rescued soon.

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

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

"Don't go to sleep!" Jim felt fear curling in his gut. "Do you hear me? You've got to stay awake!" Rummaging for an idea, he finally hit on Blair's knack for filling up quiet space with constant chatter. "Talk to me, Sweetheart. 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 Blair to continue. It was obviously hard for him to catch enough breath to talk in more than short, stilted sentences.

Help finally arrived after three interminable hours. Rescue equipment, followed by an ambulance, pulled into the yard of the old cabin. As the rescuers began to set up the floodlights, Simon Banks climbed out of his vehicle and hurried to where his detective was kneeling over the tiny opening to the well.

"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."

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

"I hope so," Jim sighed. "He's all I've got...."

The captain nodded, steadying Jim with a hand on his shoulder. He understood the relationship between his top detective and the police observer, even though Jim rarely spoke about it. "Don't ask, don't tell" was a way of life in the police department.

"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, grabbing 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. "I can't get my arm loose!" he called, looking up the narrow shaft.

Jim peered downward, using his enhanced vision to see into the depths of the well. "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; you're going to hyperventilate. We can't have you passing out on us." Jim stretched out near the opening, sticking his face into the hole to get a better look at his lover. "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," Blair 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," Timmons, one of the rescue workers, 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! I'm soaking wet."

"We can drop you a blanket," Jim suggested.

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

"We're trying," Jim assured his partner. "We're trying."

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

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

The petulant whisper was repeated. "How long?"

"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 reach old age?"

"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; before we hooked up, I was busy." Another chuckle echoed up the shaft.

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," Jim promised. "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.

~oO0Oo~

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.

Blair stopped reciting his tale long enough to ask, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing you have to worry about." Jim tried to sound reassuring. "Whatever happened to Rachel?" The question diverted Blair's attention, and he picked up his story where he had left off.

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 be very effective.

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 trapped lover.

"Good thing. Don't think I could have kept this up much longer." Blair's voice was weak and trembled with exhaustion.

"Don't give up on us now. Hang tight," Jim ordered. "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 partner. "Leave it to us, Detective Ellison. We'll get him out."

"Like hell you will!" Jim pushed past the rescue worker and 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 dangling 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 lover 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 Blair was 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, Jim 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.

~oO0Oo~

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?"

Pouncing, Jim took his place in front of the doctor. "How's Blair?" he demanded.

"I'm Doctor Weaver. I've been treating Mr. Sandburg. Actually, considering what he's been through, he's not in too bad of 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 for his captain's understanding, Jim headed down to Room 213.

Settling in, he waited for the orderly to bring Blair to his room. When he was finally transferred to the bed, Jim was struck by how pale his lover 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 Blair to awaken.

~oO0Oo~

"Jim?" A whispered 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."

"I had me worried. 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... 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, Darwin. 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," Blair complained.

"Understandable. You did spend the entire night at the bottom of a well. Geez, Babe, 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 lover react.

Jim shook his head adamantly. "I'm not leaving. Not while you still need me."

"Well, I don't. Not right now. 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 stubborn partner. "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 pushcart of supplies. "Ready for your bath, Mr. Sandburg?" She smiled sweetly.

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

With a resigned chuckle, Jim turned to go.

~oO0Oo~

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?"

Blair nodded enthusiastically, anxious to be home again. "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, he should know.

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 for the ride home.

~oO0Oo~

"It's good having you back home again," Jim said, holding the door as Blair swung in on his crutches. "I didn't like sleeping alone."

"Me either," the young anthropologist agreed with a grin and a twinkle in his eye.

"You're incorrigible," Jim chuckled. Placing his arm around Blair's waist, he guided his lover 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 Blair, he watched carefully as the younger man lifted the mug to his lips and cautiously sipped.

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

Taking the cue, Jim enveloped his lover 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 the young man and held him as though his own life depended on it.