by Carol Roi
Blair kissed her again softly, then turned to Megan. "Get Simon and Daryl to help you get her up to the cabin and into some dry clothes. Try and get some soup in her if she can keep it down. The best thing for her is rest."
Dee shook her head at his words, and almost screamed at the agony the motion caused. He slid his arms around her, holding her until the pain lessened. "Can't stay here," she mumbled against his chest. "Need to be at the hospital, in case Jim needs me, needs us." She squeezed Megan's hand.
"Okay, I don't like it, but you may have a point. I brought Jim out of the zone, but he didn't regain consciousness." Blair released her and stood up. "I'll see you when you get there, okay?" Caressing her face one last time, he turned and headed toward the waiting helicopter.
Megan saw Simon standing a few feet away, talking with one of the rescue squad. "Simon! Can you give me a hand?"
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He ran until he couldn't run any more, until the powdery white ash filled his lungs, until charcoal was all he could taste. Coughing and gagging, he fell to his hands and knees, his heart pounding, his chest burning. He remained in that position for several long minutes, drawing on his guide's relaxation techniques to calm him, to restore his balance.
When Jim could finally breathe again, he sat back on his calves, and took a long look around. The landscape was the same as before, ash covered ground, and black scored trees. Only... something was out of place. Light glinted off one of the trees. He focused in with his sight, then rose to investigate. No, not light reflecting off the tree, but off a shiny piece of metal imbedded in the tree. Part of a sword... a katana.
The sentinel looked down at his feet, finding the hilt and the other half of the blade partially buried in the soot. Diandra... no... not her too... He walked on, steeling himself for what he knew was to come.
He kept his eyes glued to the ground, picking out the imprint of hooves under the soft coating of ash. The terrain changed slightly, the earth churned and torn as if a great battle had taken place. In the center of the upheaval lay the body of the black mare, her flanks torn and bloody, her hide burned and blistered. The equine's head had been severed from its neck, and lay a few feet away, her blue eyes, once full of power and intelligence, now dull and lifeless.
Rage filled the sentinel, and he opened up his senses, searching for a clue, for anything that would tell him who had done this. The smell of charred flesh filled his sinuses, and he gagged, dropping once again to his knees, this time to retch at the barbarity before him, fearing what he would find next.
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Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, turn. One, two, three... Blair paced the hallway outside the emergency room, wondering what was taking the doctor so long. Jim would be okay; he held firm to that belief. It was just the damn waiting... .
His disjointed thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doors to the parking lot opening. Looking up, he felt a grin threatening to break through his worry at the sight of Simon striding into the emergency room, his take-charge face firmly in place. His keen eyes found the guide immediately, and he crossed to his side.
"Any news?"
Blair shook his head. "No, they won't tell me a thing. I was useful for filling out Jim's insurance info and that was it."
"All right, I'll see what I can find out." The tall captain went in search of someone in charge, badge already in hand.
The entrance to the ER opened again, and Megan entered, Dee moving slowly beside her, one arm thrown over her partner's shoulders. Daryl brought up the rear, a small gym bag in one hand, the other reaching out to support the unsteady Immortal. Blair hurried toward them, the pain in his lover's eyes tearing at his heart. "God, Dee... "
Daryl thrust the bag at him before he reached her. "Here, man, dry clothes."
"Thanks," Blair replied, then turned toward the two women. Megan had dropped into a chair, Dee next to her, her head leaning against her companion's shoulder. The guide bent over her, his fingers lightly tracing the furrow of pain creasing her brow. "Hey babe, how're you doing?"
The Immortal inhaled carefully, even that small motion setting off a chorus of hammers inside her skull. "I'll live. You holding up okay?"
He nodded. "Look, I'm gonna go change, and then I'll be back." Turning to Megan, he said, "See if you can help her turn the pain down, and sometimes it helps if you massage the back of her neck."
As he rose, he felt Dee's fingers trail along his arm. Glancing down, he saw the faint trace of a smile on her lips as she whispered, "Love you, Lobo... " Blair walked off to find the restroom, his heart a little lighter.
When he returned, the emergency room was empty with the exception of Simon. "What's going on?"
"Jim's been moved upstairs. The doctor is going to meet us up there. I sent the others on ahead," he replied, leading the way to the elevator.
When they got there, Jim had just been settled in the room. Blair slipped inside, crossing to the bed and gazing down at the still unconscious sentinel. The nurse who was making sure all the equipment was working properly glanced at him. "You must be the young man that was with Mr. Ellison when he was brought in." At Blair's nod, she continued, "He's a very lucky man. From what the paramedics said, that fall could have killed him."
Blair laid his fingers lightly on Jim's wrist. "I'm the lucky one," he whispered.
The nurse gave him a smile. "I can see you're good friends, but rules are rules. You can only stay a couple more minutes. Visiting hours are almost up." She left the room as a middle-aged man in surgical scrubs and a white lab coat entered.
"Mr. Sandburg? I'm Dr. Samuels."
Blair shook the proffered hand. "How's Jim doing?"
Glancing at his chart, the doctor said, "Much better than I expected after hearing the circumstances of his accident. He was very fortunate to get away with nothing more than some broken ribs and nasty bruises. His injuries should have been much more severe, given the height he fell from."
Running a hand through his hair, Blair fibbed, "Well, it was more like a slide... " He shook his head. "Should he still be unconscious?"
"Actually, he's sedated right now. What he needs most is rest, and we gave him a shot down in the ER that'll keep him out most of the night." Dr. Samuels referred to his clipboard again. "We were a little afraid of a head injury, given what he said when he regained consciousness in the ER, but his CAT scan came out clean. Still, we're keeping a close eye on him."
The relief Blair had been feeling turned to anxiety. "Oh, really," he said with studied nonchalance. "What did he say?"
The doctor turned his back to Blair, adjusting one of the monitors. "Hmm, nothing that made much sense, something about a fire, and a dead horse... " He turned back around to find the long-haired man gone, the door swinging closed behind him.
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The physician's words had set Blair's heart to pounding. A dead horse... Jim had spoken of a dead horse... He had to find Dee. Racing through the hospital's hallways, he finally found them in an out of the way waiting room, sitting quietly as if nothing was wrong. Simon and his son were reclining in two of the chairs, their legs sprawled out in front of them. Megan and Dee took up most of a couch, the companion bent anxiously over the Immortal, whose huddled position and tightly closed eyes telegraphed her pain.
Simon rose to his feet at Blair's sudden appearance. "Everything okay, Sandburg?"
Blair crossed the small room, his eyes never straying from his lover's form. "Yeah, yeah, Jim's asleep." Leaning over Dee, he laid a hand on her back. "Angel?"
"Hurts... " she hissed between clenched teeth.
"I don't know what else to do, Sandy. I've tried everything I know." Megan looked at him helplessly.
"It's okay, Megan," he said as he gestured for her to get up. Taking her place on the
sofa, he pulled Dee into his lap, leaning her head against his shoulder, one arm holding her close, the other gently massaging her scalp. "It's okay, baby," he murmured, his voice sentinel soft. "Just breathe, let everything go, all the pain, all the tension... that's it, you're gonna be fine... " He felt hot tears against his neck, but didn't stop his ministrations or his reassuring whispers. Finally the Immortal's breathing relaxed into the calm rhythm of sleep, and Blair looked up to find three pairs of eyes intently watching him.
"How did you do that?" Megan asked softly.
Shrugging slightly, the guide replied, "I don't really know. This just worked before. I'm not sure if it's the physical contact, or the voice, or both."
Sighing in frustration at her lack of experience with the companion thing, Megan turned to Simon. "I'm heading for the cafeteria, since it looks like we'll be here all night. Want to join me, sir?" At his nod, they walked off, leaving Daryl alone with Blair and the sleeping Dee.
Daryl pulled his chair a little closer to the couch, and simply watched the couple for awhile, seeing in the unguarded moment the depth of Blair's love for her, as the guide leaned his cheek against her hair, and hummed softly in his throat to her. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. "Blair, can I ask you a question, man?"
"Sure, Daryl, fire away." His blue eyes met the younger man's intently.
"She's not... " he hesitated, not sure how to phrase the question so as not to offend. "Diandra's like Jim, but she's not." Blair raised an eyebrow at him. Daryl tried again. "She's more than just a sentinel, isn't she? Megan said she'd healed her and you the way she did Jim tonight. And I saw the paramedics working on her. She was dead, man!"
Closing his eyes, Blair sighed. This really wasn't his call, not his decision to make, and yet... He looked down at her beautiful face, knowing she trusted him enough to decide how much Daryl and Simon needed to know. Planting a kiss on her forehead, he lifted his eyes to meet his friend's. "You're right. She's more than a sentinel; she's immortal."
The young man stared hard at the guide for a few seconds then blinked. "Come on, man, you expect me to believe that?"
"Is that so much harder to believe than the fact that she has heightened senses? You just said yourself she was dead earlier. How do you explain the fact that she's not now? How do you explain the fact that we both watched her slide down the side of that ravine with no rope, no gloves, no nothing, and yet there's not a scratch on her? I'm not lying to you, Daryl. She can't be hurt the way we can, and if she's killed, depending on the type of injury, she'll recover in a few minutes to a few hours."
Daryl slumped in the chair, absorbing the guide's words. Finally, he said, "Cool."
Shaking his head, Blair replied, "No, it's not cool. Imagine trying to hide this kind of a secret from your friends. You can't stay in one place for too long, or people start to notice you don't get any older, and god, forbid you should die in front of witnesses. Imagine watching everyone you ever knew, you ever loved, die, while you keep on living." Unconsciously his arms tightened around her, as if he could shield her from that kind of pain.
"Oh. That is not cool." Daryl was silent for awhile, a million questions running through his mind. A few minutes later, he said, "So, like, you love her, but you know you can't be with her forever, no matter how much you want to."
Blair blinked back tears, the teenager's words touching on a future he normally tried to avoid thinking about. "Yeah," he finally said, "no happily ever after for us."
Sensing he'd hit a nerve, Daryl apologized. "Sorry, Blair."
Pressing his face against her hair, Blair whispered too softly for the other man to hear, "So am I."
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Carrying her salad and a cup of coffee, Megan made her way to one of the cafeteria tables and sat down, joining her captain. They ate in silence for a few minutes, Simon giving her quizzical looks every time he glanced up from his food. Unable to stand it any more, she blurted out, "What?" a little more loudly than she'd intended. Fortunately the room was fairly deserted, and no one looked their way.
Shrugging, Simon sat back in the hard plastic chair, folding his hands on the table. "I'm just waiting for you to tell me whatever it is you couldn't say in front of Daryl or Blair."
"I... " Megan ran her hands through her tangled hair. "Just how do you do it, sir?"
Her question caught him off-guard. "Do what, Connor?"
"Deal with all this sentinel... stuff. Every time I think I'm getting a handle on it, something happens like today, and I realize how little I actually know." She poked at the remains of her salad with her fork. "Don't get me wrong, Captain, I wouldn't change a thing; I would never abandon Dee, but... unlike Sandy, this was never in my in wildest dreams the direction I pictured my life going."
Simon patted down his pockets, looking for a cigar, then realized he couldn't smoke in the hospital. "I'm not sure I can really help you. I try to stay as far out of this 'sentinel stuff' as I can get. I have a hard time believing half the theories Sandburg comes up with."
"That's just my point, sir. I have a hard time believing it, and I'm in the midst of it. It doesn't help that Dee is still mostly a mystery to me. I know she tries, but sometimes I get the feeling she wishes Sandy, or anyone else were her guide instead of me."
Seeing the genuine distress in his subordinate's eyes, Simon's next words were gentle. "Are you talking about the fact that Sandburg was able to help her earlier, and you weren't?" At her nod, he continued. "I don't think that had anything to do with being a guide. I think that had to do with the fact that when you're down, when you're hurting the way she was, all you want is for someone you love to hold you, and make you feel secure enough that you can finally sleep, despite the pain. Sandburg just happens to be that someone."
The Aussie finished her coffee, considering his words. "Thanks," she finally said, "I feel better looking at it that way." They sat in companionable silence for a few more minutes then Megan realized that Simon had never pressed her any further for answers about what had happened out in the woods. "Sir, about what happened today... "
He cut her off with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to know, Connor. I'm perfectly happy in my ignorance. I have no burning need to know how Diandra helped Jim, or how she recovered so suddenly. I'm just going to file today away in that big box I have labeled the Sandburg zone." He gave her a grin. "Are you ready to go back upstairs?" Nodding, she rose and followed him from the room.
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Jim rose to his feet, looking automatically to the sky, finding the form of the falcon immediately. It flew in ever-tighter spirals, and the sentinel had the unsettling feeling his journey was nearing its end. He began walking again, trying to put the images of the dead mare and osprey out of his mind and failing. Who, or what, could have done this? The mare had not gone down without a fight, that had been evident. He'd seen her in combat, and for someone to have vanquished her, well, he wasn't too sure of his own chances if he had to face them.
The silence that had surrounded Jim since he'd left the temple was shattered by an agonized howl. He broke into a run, knowing that sound could only have come from his soulmate's spirit guide. Breaking through a grove of still smoking trees, he slid to a halt, his eyes focused on the scene before him.
One half of a fire-blackened staff stood upright, the broken end planted in the ground. The other half was driven through the flank of a silver wolf, pinning it to the earth. Dropping to his knees beside the injured animal, Jim reached out a trembling hand to touch its scorched and bloodstained ruff. The wolf's blue eyes opened at the contact, and its head turned, its tongue licking the back of the sentinel's hand before it exhaled a long, shuddering breath, and lay still.
Raising his face to the leaden sky, Jim let forth a howl himself, giving voice to his confusion and grief before gathering the dead wolf in his arms, burying his face
in the smoky fur.
The sound of wings behind him finally pulled the sentinel from his grieving. Laying the wolf down tenderly, he turned around, not surprised to find the red-haired Amazon Queen standing there, her gauntleted arms folded across her chest, the expression on her face one of sympathy mixed with exasperation. Closing his eyes, Jim attempted to calm himself, knowing that going with his first inclination to throttle her would get him nowhere.
When he felt in control of himself, he asked, "What happened here? What does this mean?"
The Companion waved her arm to encompass the entire landscape. "This? This is 'for the best.' You said so yourself."
The sentinel gazed at her in horror, his rash words ringing in his ears. "This is my doing?"
"You chose yourself over your Guide. You decided you could no longer live with yourself, with what you had 'done to him'. Did you not consider that the greater punishment might be the opposite choice, the choice to live with what you had done?"
