Judgements

by K Ryn

  Joseph covered the wound with a light bandage and rearranged the wet cloths, replacing several with fresh towels that he lifted from a basin of ice water. He placed his own hand against Blair's brow and Jim glanced up at the soft, sing-song melody that the old man began murmuring. He watched in amazement as his Guide seemed to relax even more, his breathing shifting into the pattern of normal sleep.

  "Now we must wait," Joseph said softly.

  Speechless with his own weariness and fear, the Sentinel simply nodded. Hoping that his presence might lend the younger man strength, he settled more deeply into the chair. Dimly aware that his own injuries were being attended to, he tightened his grip around the slim wrist, prepared to sit sentry over his Guide for however long it took.

  Jim woke from a light doze. The soft, musical noises of the desert night brought him fully alert. Hours had passed. He reached out automatically and found the familiar heartbeat of his Guide. Relieved at the steady sound, it took him a moment to realize that someone else was in the room. Joseph. The old man placed a hand on Blair's forehead.

  "The fever has broken. He will be well," the old man murmured, confirming Jim's own assessment. Joseph seated himself in a chair on the other side of Blair's bed and took the younger man's hand in his. "Now he will rest and draw upon our strength."

  Jim glanced down at his own hand, long fingers entwined with Blair's. He found it somewhat unnerving to realize that Joseph had read him so easily, and shifted uncomfortably.

  "Earlier, what I said, how I acted... I meant no disrespect..." he stammered.

  "None taken," Joseph replied softly. "Your concern was for your companion. I saw it for what it was, Warrior."

  The Sentinel looked up and met the serene dark eyes curiously. "Why do you call me that?"

  "It is what and who you are."

  "I was a soldier once, long ago. I'm a cop, now. Not a warrior."

  "You are the sum of many things, some of this lifetime, some of the past. As is Blair. I am pleased that he has found someone to help him balance his destiny."

  "His destiny?" Jim blinked in startled surprise. "You... you're Nate's Grandfather."

  "You knew that," Joseph teased softly.

  "Yes, but I didn't realize... Blair told me about you. About his first trip here. About what happened... what you said..." Anger flared inside the Sentinel, and his eyes flashed cold fire. "How could you do that to him? Don't you know how it affected him, seeing those bodies?"

  "He had to learn," the old Indian answered.

  "Oh, he learned all right. He's carried the horror of that lesson with him ever since, " Jim snarled.

  Joseph sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the intensity of the stare was nearly enough to make the Sentinel flinch.

  "Would you have had me leave him to face the world as he was?" The older man's voice was a bare whisper, filled with its own fire. "When he came to us he was filled with the arrogance and blind innocence of a child. He had no teacher, no protector, then. No one to guide him on his journey. For one with his gifts, it was a path that could easily have ended in tragedy. The lesson I taught was hard. I took no pleasure in it, Warrior. But had I not intervened, he would not have survived to find you."

  The Medicine Man's words sent a chill through the Sentinel, washing away his anger. "What do you know... about Blair... about me?"

  Joseph glanced down at Blair. He reached out and smoothed a stray curl and a smile crept over his face. "I see the child grown to a man. A young Shaman who has become wiser in the ways of the spirits. I feel a heart that beats with love and loyalty. I hear a teacher who has learned to listen." He looked up at the Sentinel and the smile became a rueful grin. "Well, most of the time, anyway."

  Jim's own answering grin and the shake of his head made the older man chuckle.

  "And you, Warrior," Joseph became serious again as he stared into the Sentinel's eyes. "I have seen you in my dreams."

  "Your dreams?"

  "Among my people there are stories of men who were chosen to be protectors. Strong of body and mind, gifted with special abilities to guard the tribe. They speak of a Warrior who's strength is not just of the flesh, but of the heart. Who is guided by the spirits, but who lives in this world. A man of courage and integrity. These stories have been handed down in word, in our songs, and, to those so honored, in our dreams. They are a part of us. A reminder so that we do not forget, even if such a being should not appear among us for generations."

  Jim was quiet for a moment, comparing the older man's version of the Sentinel myth to the legends and stories that Blair had tracked down. With a rueful smile of his own, he shook his head.

  "And you believe me to be this... Warrior?"

  "A title of respect," Joseph murmured, inclining his head in a quick bow. "It is the best translation from our tongue to yours. Perhaps you prefer another?"

  "I am a Sentinel," Jim said quietly, meeting the brown eyes with a surprising peace within his own. "But I would be honored to accept your designation, Elder."

  "And Blair? He is your Shaman. Among my people that too is a word of honor, but --"

  "He is my Guide. And more. The way of the Shaman was passed to him by another."

  "He has always been a Shaman," Joseph said firmly. "The signs were there when he came to us."

  "'Balanced on the edge of two worlds,'" Jim murmured, glancing down at his sleeping friend. He studied his Guide as if seeing him for the first time.

  "The Warrior's strength comes in part from his companion," Joseph continued, his voice gentle, but sure. "In our tribe, this has always been a Shaman. One who touches the world as we see it, yet who also walks the ways of the spirits. It is a great responsibility. To protect and guide the Warrior is only one aspect of his charge. He is also meant to bring change. To enlighten. To bring hope. To see to the needs of the whole tribe."

  "That's who he is," Jim acknowledged, thinking of ways Blair had changed not just one lost and lonely cop's life, but those around him as well. "I just wish..."

  "That it was not so dangerous?"

  Jim looked up and nodded. "He's so young for this. I know he's a man, not a child, but sometimes he seems like one. He's so innocent and trusting. In my world, that can be deadly."

  "You cannot keep him from what he must do," the Medicine Man cautioned. "To do that would be to ask him to deny himself. His body may be young, but his spirit and his heart are filled with wisdom."

  "I'd be happier if some of that wisdom could keep him out of trouble," Jim muttered. "Some instincts for self-preservation would be good, too."

  "Yeah, but then... my 'Blessed Protector'... would get... lazy..."

  The whispered comment from his Guide brought a smile to the Sentinel's face. Jim squeezed Blair's hand gently and stared into the sleepy blue eyes.

  "Even 'Blessed Protectors' need some time off, Chief," he answered, pleased to see the gleam of amusement in Blair's gaze. "Which is what I'm going to get, because you're not moving from this bed for the next three days."

  "But Jim... I should be fine... with a good night's rest... and the dig..."

  "Has been there for many years and will be there when you are well," Joseph interrupted firmly.

  Blair's gaze shifted back and forth between the two older men. Seeing the look of determination in Joseph's eyes and the satisfied grin on his partner's face, he groaned. "Great... Two of you... hovering. How'd I get... so lucky."

  "Destiny," Joseph answered. He patted Blair on the arm and rose to his feet.

  Before the older man could move away, Blair reached out and grabbed at his sleeve. "Grandfather... thank you," he whispered, eyes blazing with emotion.

  The Medicine Man nodded and took the younger man's hand in his. A shadow of regret flickered across the older man's face. "I was hard on you once, Young One. I knew no other way."

  "I know," Blair reassured him. "You taught me well. And I am in your debt once more."

  "There are no debts between on
e Shaman and another," Joseph murmured, eyes lighting with pride as he released Blair's hand. "Only honor."

  Blair nodded and leaned back into the pillow, the exchange draining him of his strength.

  "I'll leave him in your care, Warrior," the old man murmured.

  "My thanks as well, Elder," Jim answered.

  Blair's curious gaze flickered to his partner, but he waited until the older man left the room before asking one of the hundred questions that were whirling in his mind.

  "Warrior?"

  "A title of respect," Jim responded quietly. He turned his attention to Blair and shot him a glare. "It's a pleasant change from the disrespect I get from you, Darwin."

  "Me?" Blair's high pitched squeak of surprise and dismay made Jim grin. Seeing the twinkle in his partner's eyes, Blair fought to hide the answering smile that threatened to split his face. His Sentinel was teasing him, which meant that all was going to be right with his world. "I'm not the one with the book full of inane nicknames, Detective," he muttered in disgust, closing his eyes and settling back into the bed. "Respect, huh? Well I'll be much more respectful if you let me get some sleep. And get some yourself. Otherwise I'll be the one hovering over you."

  "Sleep well, Blair," Jim said softly, meeting the quick squeeze that Blair had given his hand with one of his own.

  The soft warmth of the morning sun filtered into the bedroom, accompanied by a fitful breeze that swirled the unique scents of the reservation around the two sleeping figures. The caress of those sensations carried Blair from uneasy dreams to groggy awareness. Prodded by instinct, his gaze shifted immediately to the Sentinel. A maelstrom of anxious thoughts brought him fully awake.

  Fresh bandage on his head, but no new blood, and just a few bruises... that's good, right? I mean, he's here in the chair next to me, not in a bed, so he must be fine... not that his sitting there actually means that he's not hurt... he'd do that... stay here and wait 'til he was sure I was okay before he took care of himself... but Grandfather probably wouldn't stand for that... so that means that he IS okay... Wonder how his vision's doing?... Gotta remind him to take it easy for a while... Shit, look at that sunburn... need to dial those pain receptors down, definitely... hmm... Don't recognize that shirt... someone must have been keeping an eye on him... probably Grandfather or maybe Nate... Looks like he's working on at least a two day, five o'clock shadow... matches the dark circles under his eyes... stress lines around those baby blues, too... man, he must be exhausted... hope somebody's been feeding him, otherwise he's gonna wake up like a grouchy bear with a growling stomach and an incredibly stiff neck...

  A slight smile teased at the corner's of his mouth. He'd shifted from Guide to Mother Hen mode.

  Jeez, I'm as bad as Jim with this hovering stuff.

  The smile broadened into a grin when he realized that the Sentinel's strong fingers were still entwined with his. The heat of the contact soothed the Guide, enfolding him in a blanket of safety and security.

  You're always here for me, aren't you Jim? he thought fondly.

  Reality crashed down without warning. The ice cold hand of terror gripped him, reaching deep inside to freeze his heart and the grin abruptly disappeared. His throat constricted and he couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't feel anything beyond an overwhelming sense of loss. Somehow he managed to close his eyes, holding back the flood of tears that threatened to break free from his soul.

  God, I almost lost you!

  For long, black moments he stood at the gateway to despair, feeling the pull of that gut-wrenching tide. A shudder rippled through his body and suddenly he felt the increased pressure from the hand that gripped his. Even with that silent support, it took an extreme effort of will to close the doors on those devastating emotions.

  Jim isn't dead. He isn't blind. He's all right. Open your eyes and see it!

  "Blair?"

  His Sentinel's voice released him from the last vestiges of the terror and he opened his eyes to meet the older man's concerned stare.

  "I didn't... I didn't mean to wake you," Blair whispered, forcing the words through a throat that was still too tight. "I'm all right, but you look like hell. Go back to sleep. It's still early."

  "I'll sleep when you do," Jim answered quietly.

  Blair saw the resolve in the gaze that the Sentinel leveled at him and he knew that arguing -- even if he had the strength for it -- was pointless. With a soft sigh, he turned his head and stared out the window. He tried to focus on the yellow-brown desert hills, but his gaze kept drifting to the sky -- the pale blue that matched...

  I' don't want to remember that... I knew I was going to die. I saw the look in Ben's eyes... but the deputy... Oh god, he shot his own son for me. Jim said he was dead, didn't he? Oh god, oh god, oh god, NO!

  With a stifled groan Blair returned his gaze to the room and stared down at his feet, two oddly shaped lumps hiding under the light blanket. He wished he could pull the fabric up over his head and never come out -- that he could somehow avoid the concerned stare that bored into him, searching for his secrets. He couldn't meet those eyes right now. They reminded him things that were too painful to remember and impossible to forget.

  "Chief, look at me."

  Blair screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. There was no escape behind those tight shutters either. The blackness reached for him immediately, thrusting him back into the endless oppressive night within the trunk of Holland's car. He could smell the gas fumes, feel every jarring jolt, found himself counting the seconds as they ticked away his life... waiting...

  Waiting for death...

  "Blair!"

  A strong hand cupped his chin, gently forcing him to raise his head.

  Too much anger... too much senseless violence... too much death...

  "Blair, open your eyes... please..."

  The distress in his Sentinel's voice was more than he could resist. Steeling himself to look death in the eye, long lashes swept upward...

  And met life instead.

  The same powerful feeling of peace that he'd felt in the face of Ben's rage lived in the Sentinel's eyes. The tug of that ocean current was stronger than the tides of despair, towing him toward safety, giving him back his ability to speak.

  "Holland shot his own son..."

  "We guessed as much," Jim murmured encouragingly.

  "Ben was going to kill me. I looked into his eyes and there was nothing there. No spark of humanity. Nothing. But I keep wondering, you know? His father... it was like he could still see something inside... something worth preserving at any price... he loved him so much... I heard it in his voice... I saw it in his eyes..."

  "Maybe Holland only saw what he wanted to see, Chief."

  "Love is blind? But then why did he save me? Why choose me over his own son?"

  "I don't know, Blair," Jim answered, releasing his hold on the younger man's chin and settling back into the chair. "Maybe he decided that the only way to save his son was to act against him -- to stop him from becoming any more of a monster than he already was. Others have made stranger choices in the name of salvation."

  "But it wasn't necessary. It didn't have to happen. None of it did. " Blair drew a deep, shaky breath. "I don't understand the anger, Jim. Or the hate. It's there, waiting inside of people -- even me. It just erupts without warning. Sometimes it's so strong that it doesn't seem like there's any way to fight it. It's like a mindless animal. You can't reason with it, you can't hold it back, you can't protect anyone from it, no matter how hard you try."

  The Sentinel stared at his anguished Guide, wishing his own ability with words matched his young partner's. He felt Joseph's presence, waiting, watching from the hallway. For a moment, Jim had a vision of Blair, teetering dangerously on the edge of a bottomless abyss.

  "You think you're somehow responsible, don't you?" he asked quietly.

  "All I know is that two people are dead, Jim. And it could have been worse. You could have died as well. And Connie. And Bowden. If we'd nev
er taken this damn trip --"

  "Our coming here doesn't alter the fact that Ben Holland was a murderer, Chief, " Jim interrupted forcefully. "He'd killed before and he would have continued to take more lives until he was stopped."

  "But his father --"

  "Made his own choices."

  "He killed his own son, Jim! No father should have to face that. The only good thing I can see coming out of this horror show is that Holland's not around to feel the pain of that action. But I am."

  "Damn, it Blair, this was not your fault."

  "Believe me, man. I'm not taking the blame for all of it. But I do have to live with the fact that my actions, my decisions -- hell my very presence here -- put people in danger and ultimately two men died. How do I deal with that? I really wish you could tell me, because right now, I don't have any answers and I don't even know where to start looking for them."

  "Maybe instead of tearing yourself apart, you should take a good look around, Sandburg." Jim's sharp words made Blair look up in surprise. "I know you, Blair," the Sentinel's tone was softer as he continued. "Right now you're hurting because you couldn't stop this tragedy. You couldn't, Chief. No one could have. But for all the pain and grief, there's hope, too. Think about Bowden. Your words, your actions reached him. Not mine. Not countless others before you. He was buried under the weight of years of anger. Your being here made a difference. He'll never be the same. Nor will anyone else whose life you touch."

  Seeing a flicker of light in the blue eyes that had earlier reflected only darkness, the Sentinel opened his soul, hoping it would be enough.

  "You are my Guide, my Shaman, my partner and my friend. I draw strength from your presence. I draw hope from your heart. That's the only answer I can give you."

  Blair's eyes closed and he took a deep, cleansing breath. Jim's words had soothed the rough edges of his pain, opening the way for healing to begin. "It's enough," he whispered finally. "More than enough."

  Jim basked in the morning sunshine, relaxing in a chair on the porch of Joseph's home. He patted his still full stomach, the result of another wonderful breakfast and let his senses roam outward lazily. The sounds and smells of the small community were already imprinted on his awareness and he found himself chuckling at his self-imposed guard duty.