Who Shall Guard the Guardian Themselves Read online

  ~If he'd seen you like that again, he WOULD have sent you home for a nap,~ the voice reminded him.

  "Yeah, and if he sees me standing here talking to myself he'll have me committed."

  ~Accept the truth.~

  "No..."

  He started pacing again, using the physical activity to release some of the tension he felt building inside. He swallowed hard against a nervous tremor and glanced wildly around the rooftop. "Where the hell is that damn chopper?"

  ~Accept the truth.~

  "I said NO..."

  "Sandburg..."

  "What part of no don't you understand?" Forgetting that he was arguing with himself, Blair spun around angrily, ready to confront the nagging voice before he realized that he'd actually 'heard' that last response. His heart skipped a beat when he found himself face to face with Jim. How much did he hear? Man, he really will think I'm crazy!

  "Sandburg, who are you talking to?" Jim's face was filled with an expression of concern as he reached out and touched Blair gently on the arm.

  "Nobody, man," Blair forced a grin. "Just running off at the mouth as usual. I'm --"

  The wave of terror and despair hit him so hard it tore the air from his lungs. At that moment everything around him ceased to exist; he could see nothing but blackness, feel nothing except the raging fear and overwhelming sorrow which threatened to engulf him, hear nothing except his own voice screaming Jim's name.

  He gulped for air and the real world returned. He felt Jim's firm hand on his arm, pulling him forward and he looked up into his partner's face, expecting to see the Sentinel's blue-eyed stare boring into him. Instead, Jim's gaze was turned away, watching the incoming helicopter as it maneuvered into its landing spot.

  For a split second, Blair hovered between trying to cover his reaction to the attack or crumpling into a terrified heap. Part of him wanted to grab Jim's arm and drag his partner downstairs -- anything to keep them off the helicopter and away from whatever they were headed into. But as he drew in another ragged breath, Ellison's attention shifted to back to him, the Sentinel's eyes filling with concern.

  He managed to meet Jim's searching stare with a level one of his own, grimly considering the irony of the situation. For all the times in the past two-plus years that he'd tried, and failed, to beat the man's perceptive senses, he finally had the opportunity -- and he didn't really want to take it. But he knew he would. Seeing the determination in his partner's face, Blair managed a rueful grin and a shrug, pointing to the aircraft as if to indicate that it had startled him.

  For a moment he wasn't sure Jim was buying into his act after all. The grip on his arm tightened and the gaze grew even more intense. Buffeted by the gusts of wind kicked up by the milling rotors, Blair fought to hold his ground both physically and mentally, driven by the instinctive duty he'd felt during the last ten days.

  "Are we going or not?" he finally yelled, breaking their silence.

  Jim's reluctant nod and the release of the almost painful grip on his arm was the older man's only answer before he turned and stalked toward the helicopter. Trailing in his wake, Blair struggled to keep his heart from climbing into his throat, grateful that he'd have his normal fear of heights, and the objects which flew in them, to occupy his thoughts over the next few hours.

  He managed to avoid his partner's inquisitive gaze as they strapped in and donned their headsets. The pilot was all business and short on chatter. They had a three hour trip ahead of them and they would be updated on the situation upon arrival. Immersed in his own whirling thoughts, Blair wasn't even aware the chopper had left the roof until they were speeding out across the bay in a wide, banking arc.

  Jim settled back, stretching his legs as far as the cramped space would allow. "It's going to be a while, Chief. Why don't you try to get some rest?"

  Blair nodded. Shifting into a more comfortable position himself, he closed his eyes gratefully. He could feel the vibration of the rotors through the seat-back like a gentle massage. Sleep was definitely in order and it meshed nicely with his current avoidance strategy.

  ~Accept the truth.~

  With a resigned sigh, Blair opened his eyes and stared out into the clouds, unable to ignore the challenge that his own mind had posed for him any longer. It would be easy to write the attacks off to frayed nerves and exhaustion. His emotions did tend to rise to the surface when he was tired, and after what they'd been through for the last ten days, he figured he deserved the right to be a little ragged around the edges.

  But deep inside, he knew it was more than that. He'd felt this before. Oh, nothing as drastic as what he'd felt in Simon's office or on the roof. Not that full body terror and soul-wrenching sorrow. The previous episodes had been little nudges, gentle love taps compared to the assaults he was experiencing now.

  He shuddered and took a deep breath. He'd been enduring these bursts of emotional trauma for the past ten days and he'd originally blamed them on the stress of the case. The incidents had become more frequent, although not necessarily more severe, as the investigation had dragged on. He hadn't paid much attention to them because his concentration had been centered on helping Jim. He'd never felt so helpless, watching his Sentinel slip into one zone-out after another. Toward the end, he'd been terrified that if he left Jim's side for even a minute, he'd lose his friend to the trance-like state forever.

  But the case is over now, he reminded himself. So why is this still happening? And why is it worse? Post-reaction let-down or something? That would make a certain amount of sense. The explanation was valid, so why did he feel like it was the easy way out? Probably because it is. Be honest with yourself, Sandburg. These sensations started manifesting long before the Haight case.

  And that, of course, was the truth that he had been trying to avoid. In his heart, he knew exactly what was going on, but he hadn't let his head in on the secret yet -- although his subconscious was doing a pretty good job at trying to ruin his plans. He refused to admit it to himself, much less say it out loud. It was too terrifying. Far too big a paradigm shift to deal with right now. He needed time to process it. Time to sort it out piece by piece. Time to figure out a way to talk to Jim about it.

  ~Accept the truth.~

  Not now, he told himself firmly. Now I need to be in control as Jim's Guide. I know that role. I can do that one. I can't handle the other yet.

  This time there was no demanding response. Stifling a sigh as he settled back and closed his eyes, he realized that the ominous silence in his mind was as disturbing as the nagging voice had been. It was a long time before he drifted off into a troubled, fitful sleep.

  Jim's own internal clock woke him a few minutes before they reached the staging area. He glanced at his still dozing partner and automatically reached out with his senses, monitoring the younger man's life signs. Reassured that the anthropologist's slower pulse and respiration were only the by-products of a deep sleep, he shifted his gaze out the window.

  As he watched the forest slip away beneath them, his thoughts returned to his partner and his brow furrowed in concern. Something was wrong and it was more than the stress and horrors of the last case. There had been signs of increasing distress and uneasiness in his friend over the past several months. Why hadn't he paid more attention? Why had it taken Blair's outburst in Simon's office and what he'd tried to hide up on the roof to open his Sentinel's eyes?

  The obvious answer made him extremely uncomfortable -- he'd grown so used to Blair's presence, that he was no longer really 'aware' of his friend.

  Except of course, when he isn't around when I need him. Pretty selfish, Ellison. You've been treating him like an extension of yourself, or worse, like some obedient guide-dog who's always supposed to be at your beck and call -- not like your best friend. He's been hurting and you didn't even care enough to notice.

  The revelation brought with it a heavy dose of guilt. He, of all people, knew better than to accept the 'nothing fazes Sandburg' persona which his friend used as a facade to keep
the real world at bay.

  It had always annoyed him when Simon or someone else in the department discounted Blair's contributions to their work. The realization that he, too, had begun to take the younger man for granted, was a painful blow to his own self image. How could he have done that? It wasn't part of the hard-nosed Ellison profile to admit to weakness, but he knew what he owed the younger man -- how much he'd come to depend on Blair not only as his Guide, but as his friend.

  Jim straightened in his seat, vowing that as soon as this newest assignment was over, he would get to the bottom of what was wrong. It was time Blair saw this as an equal partnership, at least as far as their commitment and respect for each other was concerned. It might take some fast talking on his part, particularly in the face of the dedication that the younger man held for his perceived role, but Jim knew he could be as persuasive as the grad student when he set his mind to it.

  The pilot's blaring voice yanked him from his own thoughts. Wincing, he felt a flash of irritation as he dialed down his hearing. Damn, that was loud! He shot a quick look at his equally startled partner and felt his annoyance increase. Blair looked like someone had jolted him awake with a cattle prod. The younger man was shaking his head, blinking furiously as he tried to clear the sleep from his mind. Jim didn't need enhanced hearing to know that the anthropologist's heart was pounding in fright.

  "Say again!" Jim requested, still eyeing his partner in concern.

  "We're on final approach. ETA three minutes," the pilot answered.

  Jim stared out the window, scanning ahead in an attempt to pick out their landing site. A puzzled frown creased his face at the sight of the unbroken forest below.

  "I thought we were meeting Agent Anders at the entrance to the park," Jim objected, recalling the details on the fax.

  "New orders, sir," the pilot responded. "We received a revised target destination an hour ago."

  "Why the change in plans?"

  "Beats me, sir. I just fly this thing where they tell me."

  Jim glanced over at Blair and saw that the younger man had recovered enough to roll his eyes expressively at the exchange. Ellison answered with a mock frown at his partner's impertinence before turning to study the terrain once again.

  "The growth looks pretty dense. Where are you going to put down?" he asked.

  "I'm sorry, sir, but there's no place to land this bird at the coordinates they gave me. We're going to have to drop you."

  "Drop us?" Blair's choked response rang in the Sentinel's ears.

  "Not literally, Chief," Jim assured his stunned partner.

  "Well, that's a relief," Blair muttered, wiping at his face. "I thought for a minute you'd gotten me into something dangerous again. I already jumped out of a plane with you once, Jim. It's an experience I'm not eager to repeat."

  Jim frowned at the memory that the younger man's words evoked. "You don't have to go along this time. This one's not about friendship."

  The eyes that met his were filled with determination. "You're wrong, Jim. That's exactly what this one is about," Blair whispered. He held Ellison's gaze for a few seconds and then shook his head. "We've already been through this. You're going, so I'm going. Just tell me what to do. I presume there's at least a rope or jungle vine for me to slither down?"

  "Nothing quite that primitive, Tarzan," Jim grinned, falling into the light-hearted banter which had seen them through other tense situations.

  Slipping out of his seatbelt, Jim rose to his feet and began uncoiling the bundled nylon rope and plexiglas ladder which was attached to the door-side of the aircraft. "Once we get into position, we'll open the door, toss this out and head down. You just hold on tight until you hit bottom."

  "Wonderful choice of word pictures, Jim," Blair responded sarcastically.

  "I'll go first and steady the bottom for you. I'm serious about hanging on tight, Chief. There's probably a pretty stiff crosswind at this elevation, not to mention the gusts the rotors are going to be kicking up. You sure you're up for this?"

  The pilot's announcement forestalled Blair's answer. "We're set to go. Can you handle the door?"

  "Yeah, I've got it," Jim assured the pilot, his attention still on his partner, awaiting his response.

  "You heard the man," Blair said quietly, stripping off his headset as he rose to his feet. He grabbed his backpack and settled it in place, giving the straps a tug to make sure they were secure. He crossed the few steps to his partner's side, struggling to keep his balance when the helicopter caught a small down draft. Jim hauled him closer to the curved inside wall, gesturing for him to take hold of one of the handgrips.

  "Door's opening now," Jim called into the headset before he pulled it off. Anchoring himself with his left hand, he slammed the locking lever upward with his right, releasing the door to slide free on the track. He gave it one shove to push it fully open and immediately stepped back away from the sucking rush of air, using his body to shelter Blair from the worst of the dragging wind.

  Leaning forward he took a quick look below. The chopper was hovering at least sixty feet above a small clearing. Jim picked out the shapes of a half-dozen trucks and double that many men before he pulled back inside, turning to meet Blair's level gaze.

  "You ready?" Ellison had to yell over the roaring of the helicopter's engines. Blair gave one terse nod, and Jim patted him on the shoulder. "I'll see you downstairs!" He tossed out the rope ladder, feeling the reassuring jerk as it unrolled. With a 'thumbs up' signal to his partner, he grabbed on with both hands and swung himself onto the rungs. He lowered himself down two steps and then paused, staring up at his partner. "One more thing!" he yelled.

  "What?" Blair screamed back, edging closer to opening as he strained to hear Jim's words.

  "Don't stop on the way down to admire the view!"

  He waited long enough to see Blair's face contort in an expression of disgust and then continued his descent.

  When Jim dropped out of sight, Blair automatically leaned forward to check on his partner's progress -- and immediately regretted it. One quick peek at Jim working his way down the swinging ladder was all it took to send the whole world spinning into confusion. Twisting back away from the opening, Blair pressed himself into the side of the chopper's fuselage, immensely grateful for the reassuring solidity of it against his spine.

  "Breathe... Breathe..." he ordered his already over-taxed lungs. "Come on... you know how... this... works... Air in... Air out..."

  Hyperventilating was not a good idea here. Screwing his eyes shut in hopes of fending off the whirling attack of vertigo wasn't the way to go either. With a determined shake of his head, he gritted his teeth and vented his irritation at the closest target.

  "'Don't stop... and admire... the view... ' huh, Ellison? What... a sense... of humor... Just wait... until I get on the ground..."

  Surprisingly, the anger seemed to help. He was breathing easier, and most of the giddiness was gone. He allowed himself a small grin. Jim had said that on purpose, anticipating that Blair would probably freak the minute he was alone. Sly move, Ellison. You know me pretty well, don't you?

  Feeling a little more confident, Blair decided to risk another look over the edge. He took a few deep breaths and pulled himself to his feet. Still holding onto the handgrip with a white-knuckled grasp, he peered down, trying to focus on his partner and ignore the rest of the spinning view. Jim was only a few feet from the ground. If he meant to follow, now was the time.

  "This sucks!" he announced to any major deities that were listening. He reached out and grabbed the swaying ladder with his right hand. He felt the tension in the nylon cord increase and knew that Jim had reached bottom and was steadying it for him. With one more deep breath, he released his hold on the handgrip and swung outward at the same time, feeling for the rungs with his feet.

  A gust of wind nearly shifted him from the rope, but he hung on, forcing himself to keep moving. Remembering that anger had cleared his mind before, he launched into a litany of v
engeful promises every time his feet touched a new rung.

  "You're going to pay for this, Ellison," he whispered, hoping that Jim's hearing was tuned to the max. "When we get home there are going to be tests... tests in the lab, man... I know how much you hate those... tests on a daily basis... Taste tests to start, I think... yeah, we'll try out your reactions to every spice known to mankind... and then when you're not looking, I'm really going to turn up the heat... I'm going to dust your lasagna with so much red pepper that you'll be putting out the fire for days... I'm going to switch the covers on the tupperware in the fridge..."

  Jim felt the strain of aching muscles and automatically dialed down his awareness level of the pain, his eyes never leaving his partner. Despite his inexperience, the younger man was making good progress in his descent. It was just nerve-wracking to watch. The Sentinel knew what the effort was costing his Guide in both emotional and physical terms. He'd been shaking himself by the time he'd touched the ground, a reminder of how much the stress and activity of the last ten days had taken out of him.

  "... and then we're going to do smell... yeah, a trip to the dump... that'll be perfect..."

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Jim couldn't stop the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Blair was on a roll. Well you gave him the incentive, Ellison. If he does hold to his threats you'd better just ride it out. You owe him at least that much for all he's put up with from you. Knowing that the venting was partially for his benefit, Jim kept his hearing attuned to his partner as the younger man lowered himself another step.

  "... it'll be worse than the sour milk, believe me... shit!"

  Jim's breath caught in his throat as Blair's handhold slipped and the younger man slid downward, catching himself with a white-knuckled grip three rungs lower. There was silence from his Guide for a minute as Blair hung onto the nylon rope for dear life. Knowing that the noise from the chopper would wipe out any words that he might scream out to his friend, Ellison tightened his grip, trying to stabilize the swinging ladder while he sent waves of mental encouragement upward. Finally, Blair muttered a curse and started moving again, the diatribe picking up full steam once more.