Follow the Tiger

by Cindy Combs

  Author's Notes: This story is a part of my The Sentinel/MacGyver series, after Synchronization in Chaos. Since the relationships between Blair, MacGyver, and Sam are drawn in the first five stories (The Maze, Control, Coatlicue, Ares Bugle, and Heirs to a Nightmare), you may wish to read them first. I would also recommend reading the others in the series, especially In the Genes, since several original characters in that story reappear in this one, and several references are made to events in Charming the Hawk. There are also a couple of references to stories about Jim's mother from the sixth season of The Cascade Virtual Tales.

  This story takes place during the summer of 2001, since I feel Sam would make different decisions after the events of 9/11. While the Wind River reservation in Wyoming is a real place, Fortuity and Outlaw Rock are not. Also, I wasn't able to do as much research into the Arapahos in Wind River as I would have like. If I got something wrong, please accept my heartfelt apologies.

  Yes, this one took a while to write. Not only is it the longest story I've written in the TS/Mac universe, but it's a very pivotal piece in the series and the lives of the characters. I wanted to make sure I wrote it right.

  As always, I wish to thank several people. Zadra, my character and sanity check; Malu and Killash, my cheerleaders who helped me find the title; Shallan, my military advisor who's always providing me with brainstorming and support; Sealie, who's periodic 'gimme, gimme, gimme' keeps me writing and her questions provide valuable insight; Toni Rae, who tries to keep me honest; my betas DebbieLD and Trishbsc; and as always to wolfpup who does the posting so I can focus on writing. And I am deeply grateful to all the wonderful people who continue to email me about my stories. I appreciate hearing from you.

  Please send any comments to spacecloud@juno.com

  Enjoy the ride.

  Disclaimer: Most of the characters are not mine. I'm borrowing them out of deep reverence, affection and respect. I will accept only personal fulfillment, and no monetary gain. If you do sue, you will not get much and I will send over my Black Lab mix, who will stare at you pathetically for hours and probably con you out of all your food. And he's fighting off a bout of kennel cough, so he's even more pathetic than normal at the moment.

  Please do not reproduce, copy, or otherwise use any part of this story without permission from the author.

  Rated PG-13, mostly for language

  FOLLOW THE TIGER

  C. L. Combs

  ~FLASH~

  Lightning struck, briefly illuminating the drenching gloom. He could feel something evil lurking nearby, but it was hidden by the storm.

  ~FLASH~

  Water poured from the sky as he clung to the rough wood, fighting the torrent of water trying to tear him from even this small bit of stability.

  ~FLASH~

  The roar of an angry and overflowing river surrounded him. Yet it could not drown out the anguished howl of a wolf. Struggling against the water, he tried to see the wolf, dimly aware of something small and brown flowing past him.

  ~FLASH~

  A lanky tiger stood on the bank of the river. The large cat picked up a soaking wet mass of feathers in its mouth.

  ~FLASH~

  NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Jim Ellison shot up, throwing his arms in all directions. It took a moment to realize he was in his own bed at his loft. The clock beside his bed glowed a bright 1:48. From the darkness, he knew it was definitely A.M.

  "Jim?" a soft voice called from the bottom of the stairs.

  "Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry."

  His roommate trotted up to the loft. With sentinel sight, Jim could read Blair Sandburg's worried expression. "Did you have a nightmare?"

  Rubbing his face, Jim sighed into his hands. "I think it was a vision."

  He felt Blair sit on the edge of the bed. In his soft guide voice, Blair asked, "What do you remember?"

  Jim took another deep breath and looked up. "Just bits and pieces. Evil lurking within a storm. Cold water surrounding me. A wolf howling." Jim felt Blair's gaze intensify. They both knew Blair's spirit animal was a wolf. "Flashes of light." Pausing, Jim rubbed his face some more, hating to repeat the last bit. "A tiger picking up a wet and wounded bird in its mouth."

  "What?" Blair's voice was full of confusion. "What tiger? What bird?"

  "It was a hawk, Chief."

  "A hawk?" Blair repeated. Then it hit him. "Jim, Marston and Phoebe Halliwell identified Sam with a hawk."

  "I know."

  Blair's eyes grew wide. "Our trip to Wyoming. We've got to cancel it."

  Jim grabbed Blair's arm before he could dash downstairs. "No."

  "JIM! We're talking about Sam here. As in my brother. My only sibling. My long-lost sibling. My--"

  "I know," Jim interrupted the tirade, "but hear me out." Gaining Blair's full attention, Jim swallowed hard. Words were not his strong suit; he usually left the talking to his golden tongued partner. But he could feel the importance of the vision swimming through his soul. He had to explain. "I don't think I had the vision so we can stop it. I'm not even sure how we could. It felt like... well... it has to happen."

  "We have to let Sam get mauled by a tiger?" Blair exclaimed as he jumped off the bed, outraged.

  "Blair." The soft command made Blair sit back down. "This is like before."

  "Which 'before'?"

  "Like my vision of me shooting the wolf. I tried to prevent it by sending you away. Instead, I fulfilled it."

  Blair felt his gut tightened. That vision was mixed up in the Alex Barnes fiasco, which dug up some very painful memories. "Jim, I'm not letting Sam drown or get mauled by a tiger."

  "Of course not. Just that we don't know what actions will stop it and which will make it worse. For all we know, it could happen while Sam's on assignment and we won't be there to help him."

  The partners stared at each other for a long moment. "This is going to be rough, isn't it?" Blair asked softly.

  Jim shrugged, a movement his friend could barely see in the dark. "Maybe."

  "We've just got to let it happen?"

  "I don't know, Chief. We've been forewarned, so maybe we can do something. But Sam's got his own life. We may not be able to interfere."

  Blair closed his eyes. "Damn."

  "Ditto."

  Same moment, eleven hundred miles away

  Cory Buchanan shot up to a sitting position. For an instant, he could still hear the thunder roll through his ears as the cold rain pounded into his face. Gradually, it faded away into soft cricket chirps. He could see the dark cabin around him, still warm from the embers in the pot-belly stove. Taking a deep breath, the dark-haired young man tried to clear away the nightmare.

  Yet it wasn't the one that had been waking him up for the past six weeks. He hadn't been running through the Colombian jungle, hearing his pursuers behind him as the branches slapped against his bare arms. He was very intimate with that memory.

  Instead, he'd been following a tiger through pine trees in a downpour, which made no sense whatsoever. The tiger had led him to a roaring river pushing over its banks. Half in the water had been a hawk, struggling to get out. Then he'd woken up.

  Still rubbing his face, Cory could easily imagine what the agency's psychiatrist would say. "The hawk probably represents your dead partner, your guilt. Another sign of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder." He had become very tired of her repeating the term, as if it explained everything. To his father, the dream would have been further evidence that his troublesome son had truly jumped off the deep end. More than likely, the general was already picking out the mental institution to which he should be committed.

  A part of him felt he should be locked up. Since the disaster of his last assignment, everything had been turned upside d
own. He couldn't even trust his eyes and ears anymore. Add in the continuing pain from his healing head and knee and some days he didn't even want to crawl out of bed. However, indespite of the general's lowly opinion, he'd never been a quitter. He just needed some time to get his head back together before returning to work, if that's what he wanted to do. Between the vaguely remembered nightmares and the accusing glares of his fellow agents, his career with the DXS was losing its appeal.

  Pushing that concern aside for the moment, he returned to the dream. His godfather Bill, who was Northern Arapaho, had taught him to pay attention to dreams. He briefly wondered if it had been one of those special dreams Bill's mother often talked about. His lips twisted into a slight smile. He had always wanted to have a vision like the old ones. Perhaps he should call on Grandmother Nighthawk and see if the elder could make sense of the dream.

  But even an old lady slept, and he was certain the dear woman would be asleep at 2 am. He settled back into the old feather mattress, shifted his aching knee, and drifted back to sleep.

  Next afternoon, Cascade, WA

  Sam straightened his jacket with a tug as he observed the party around him. "So what's this thingie for again?"

  Deedra chuckled as she swirled her drink. The elegant reporter was enjoying her friend's discomfort at the high society affair. "This is the Mayor's luncheon honoring the city's volunteers." Her dark eyes identified the mayor's wife in the corner from the paper's background pictures. While noting the congresswoman she was talking with, Dee asked Sam, "And why did you convince me to get you a press pass?"

  Grinning, Sam's eyes also scanned the crowd. "Because my brother and his partner are part of the security team. I want to surprise them and you want me to put in a good word for you."

  "Oh, yeah." Dee matched her friend's grin. "From what I've been told, I shouldn't have long to wait for them to do something newsworthy."

  "Sounds about right." Sam had finally spotted Blair across the room. His brother looked so different, dressed in a black tux with his curly hair tamed and pulled into a clip at the back of his neck. A surge of pride flooded Sam as he watched his brother doing the job he had worked hard to obtain.

  However, Sam wasn't the only one to have spotted Blair. Just behind the journalists, an older blonde with a hard face glared at the detective. "I can't believe they would allow HIM to be here."

  Her tall escort tilted his salt-and-pepper head. "Who?"

  "Blair Sandburg. He was a T.A. at Rainier until he faked his dissertation."

  The shrill voice raised Sam's hackles. Since he had been out of the country during Blair's diss disaster, he hadn't had to deal with the fallout. He didn't like hearing it now. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the voice belonged to none other than Chancellor Edwards, the woman who had played a major role in destroying Blair's academic career. Knowing his brother would want him to ignore it, Sam bit his lip in an attempt to curb his anger.

  Yet the voice continued loudly, "That little fraud nearly ruined the University's reputation. I can't believe they'd allow him within a foot of the police department, except to toss him in jail where he belongs."

  That did it. Before Sam realized what he was doing, he had turned around. "Actually, I believe it was you who nearly ruined the university's reputation, Ma'am."

  Affronted, Edwards straightened. She glared at the nobody with her best intimidating stare. "And how could I be responsible? I didn't write a fake paper."

  It was a stare that had sent many a terrified student to their knees. However, Sam wasn't the least bit affected by it. He continued his calm attack. "You accepted the word of a publisher that he had Blair's dissertation without asking Blair or his committee if it was true. You wanted the glory, so you jumped the gun. When it blew up in your face, you took it out on Blair."

  The point hit home, but she again attacked. "He himself admitted it was fake."

  "Only to protect his friends on the force who were being used as target practice." Dee knew Sam well enough to understand his cool voice meant he was ready to explode. She gently squeezed his arm, warning him to be careful.

  "And how would you know anything about it?" the Chancellor asked snidely.

  "I'm Blair's brother and a photojournalist."

  That caused her to pause, worry lining her features. "Journalist?"

  Realizing he had gained the upper hand, a confident smirk lifted a corner of Sam's mouth. "Yes. And while I would love to dig around and expose what you did to him and any others you've sacrificed for your career, I promised Blair I'd let it drop." Then Sam leaned closer. "But if I ever hear that you're bad-mouthing my brother in public again, I can always slip the story to one of my colleagues. They've been dying for another good college scandal since Stanford."

  The Chancellor's face turned white as Dee hid her own smirk behind her dark hand. From behind them, another voice interjected, "Then I would have to set the family lawyers on filing a lawsuit against the university for your needless endangerment of my brother, James Ellison." Everyone turned to see a tall, slim man standing behind them. Steven lifted an eyebrow, watching the woman lose the rest of her color.

  "Come, dear," her escort suggested, leading her away.

  Once they had disappeared into the crowd, Steven held out a hand. "Sam, I presume?"

  "Yep," Sam confirmed as he shook the hand. "Steven?"

  "Yes." A large smile stretched across the older man's face. "I've been wanting to do that for ages."

  "Me, too," Sam confessed. "I've been staying away from it because Blair wanted it buried, but that felt good."

  "Same here. But sometimes the little brothers have to stick up for the stubborn big brothers."

  Sam clinked his glass against Steven's. "Always."

  "And if you ever need a friend to dig on the story, let me know," Dee interjected. "That woman has 'major scandal' written all over her."

  As Steven looked at the woman questioningly, Sam quickly introduced, "Dee, this is Steven Ellison, Jim's brother. Steven, this is a college friend of mine, Deedra Smith. She just started at the Cascade Times."

  Steven smiled at her as he shook her hand. "A pleasure."

  As the two began to talk, Sam caught a pair of sky blue eyes on him from across the room. He realized Jim had heard most of the confrontation. Yet the slight smirk signaled that Jim had approved. Sam nodded as he returned the smirk, then joined Dee and Steven's conversation.

  On the other side of the function, Blair caught Jim's smirk. "What?"

  "Sam's here."

  Blair turned to look for his brother within the crowd. "He is? Where? I thought we were suppose to meet him at the airport." Briefly, Blair thought about looking for a tiger, too, then dismissed it from his mind.

  "Must have arrived early. He's talking with Steven and a pretty reporter."

  "Steven's with a reporter?"

  "Nope, she's a friend of Sam's." Then Jim's nostrils flared. "And I smell that cologne from the letters, Chief."

  "The ones threatening to ruin the Mayor?" Blair looked up at his partner, lowering his voice. "Where's it coming from?"

  "This way." Jim casually wove through the crowd, Blair a half step behind him. Piggy-backing his sight with smell, the sentinel spotted a man pouring something into the punch bowl. Jim centered his sight on the label. "Damn, he just put arsenic into the punch." Blair swiftly reported Jim's information through his microphone as he dashed after his partner.

  Jim grabbed the suspect, latching onto the arm holding the bottle. "No one touch that punch!" Several people backed away from the refreshment table as Cascade's finest converged on their best detective.

  Bill Nighthawk's cabin, Wind River Range, WY

  Suddenly, Cory shook into awareness. Muscles ached from stiffening in place. He twisted his head around to ease both the sore neck and the headache that had blossomed around his temples. Looking up into the nearby tree, the memory of a flicker high in its branches teased him. He had been studying the bird, then everythi
ng had gone gray.

  Voices from in front of the cabin drew his attention. Startled, he glanced down at his watch. He had lost almost two hours. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard against his dry throat. It had happened again. He just wished he knew WHAT was happening to him. Slowly, he pulled himself up to his feet.

  On the other side of the cabin, Lt. Dave Nighthawk glanced around as he slammed his truck door shut. He had always enjoyed the peacefulness of his brother's place, set in a remote mountain locale. The wind through the pine and the faint sounds of a river were soothing, especially after a difficult case. He hoped it had been working its magic on Bill's godson.

  Cory had been filled with more than just physical pain when he had arrived last week. Dave could understand why his brother was so worried about the young man. He was worried, too. The Arapahos didn't have a word for 'nephew' or 'niece'; your sibling's children were considered your children, too. Since Bill had never married, Cory had become accepted as Bill's son after the boy's mother died. Dave had watched with pride as the shy child grew into a fine young man. He didn't want Cory's current troubles to derail his future.

  On the other side of the truck, Dave's mother looked around, holding her basket of food. It was difficult to tell that the spry woman was over seventy. A large smile deepened the wrinkles around her eyes when she spotted the young man appearing from behind the cabin. "Cory!" she called.

  A smile slipped across the pale face. "Grandmother," he called back, both as the title of respect for her age and his deep feelings for her. He limped the rest of the distance to give the tiny woman a hug, drawing much needed comfort from the embrace.

  Dave studied the young man for a moment. Cory's Caucasian skin inherited from his American father had always contrasted sharply against the black hair from his Korean mother. However, Dave could swear he looked whiter than normal, the lack of a tan emphasizing the dark circles under his strained eyes. Obviously, he was still in pain. The older man wondered if it was his knee or his head. Then he turned back to his truck. He didn't want to wound the young man's fragile pride by asking.