Jim caught Blair before he hit the ground and eased them both down onto the leaf-covered earth. He wrapped his arms around Blair, feeling the rapid patter of his heart. Lifting a trembling hand, he cradled his partner's bruised and grimy cheek. The whisker growth felt odd against his palm.

Jim tightened his hold around his injured friend as if to convince himself Blair was truly alive. The warmth of his body eased the ache in Jim's gut, the cancer that had begun when he'd gotten Cathy's message that Blair was dead.

Resting his chin on Blair's crown, Jim closed his eyes as he held his best friend in his embrace. "It's going to be all right, buddy. We'll get through this."

Finally, Jim leaned Blair against a tree's solid trunk. With tender care, he examined his guide, ensuring his wounds were only minor except for the deep gash on the left side of his temple. Jim frowned. It looked like a bullet wound.

"Who did this to you, Chief?" Jim demanded in a dangerously low voice. The urge to tear apart the person responsible for his partner's pain burned in his veins and ate at his control. He wanted revenge against the bastard who'd nearly succeeded in murdering him.

Blair whimpered and Jim tenderly brushed back a few strands of stringy hair from his forehead. "Shhhh, it's okay, Chief. I'm here," he whispered, his voice husky.

His voice seemed to pacify Blair and he ceased his low moans. Maybe when Blair woke up, he'd remember who Jim was and everything would be all right. He could tell Jim who had shot him and Jim would track the person down.

Jim leaned over and lifted the smaller man into his arms, shocked by how light he was. He walked back to his campsite with his precious burden. Carefully, Jim lay Blair on the ground and went into the tent to retrieve the two sleeping bags. He spread them out and maneuvered his partner onto the makeshift bed. Balling up his sweatshirt, Jim placed it beneath Blair's head as a pillow.

Half an hour later, Jim tossed a filthy towel into a pot filled with rust-colored water. He'd cleaned Blair's injuries as well as he could and spread antibiotic cream on his numerous cuts and scratches. Since the bullet wound appeared to be healing, he left it uncovered.

Sickened by the damage done to his friend, Jim stood and breathed deeply to dispel his nausea. A bullet had definitely formed the furrow in his forehead, but the rest of the injuries appeared to have been caused by Blair's flight through the woods. The cuts and bruises were probably from stumbling and being whipped by branches as he ran. His feet were the worst. Deep lacerations latticed the soles and Jim wondered how he'd been able to walk, much less run on them. His stomach churned as he picked up the pot, moving down the path to the lake to get some fresh water.

His eyes flew open and his heart pounded like he'd run a mile in three minutes flat. His first awareness was that he lay upon something soft instead of the hard ground. Puzzled, he sat up and his mind spun. He grabbed hold of his head as if he could physically stop the dizziness. The vertigo faded after a few moments and he looked around. Fear clutched his chest and he wondered how he'd gotten to this place. It was the man's camp. The man with the gun. The man with the familiar blue eyes.

Glancing down at himself he saw someone had cleaned him up. Had the man taken care of him? His eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment. Why hadn't he hurt him like the others did?

"You're awake."

He twisted around to see the man with the blue eyes approach him. Terror battered his fragile control and instinctively, he tried to stand. With a moan of pain, he dropped back down.

"It's all right, Chief," the man reassured. "Take it easy. No one's going to hurt you." He settled on the ground a few feet from him. "Do you recognize me?"

He shook his head.

"I'm Jim Ellison, your partner."

Partner? He didn't understand and frowned in confusion.

"Friends. Sentinel and guide."

"Well, you're his guide, so to speak, so I'll need you too."

The words flitted through his mind, struggling to gain a foothold in his memory. He closed his eyes and pressed his knuckles against his eyelids. The answers remained just out of his grasp and he shook his head angrily, hoping to jar the past loose.

Warm hands clasped his wrists and drew his fists from his eyes. His eyelids flickered open and he found the man called Jim only inches from his face.

"Take it easy, Blair. That wound to your head must've given you amnesia."

Was he Blair? The only proof he had was this man with the anguished blue eyes. But every fiber of his being told him he could trust him.

"It's all right, Chief. You'll be okay. Everything's going to be fine now," Jim reassured.

He believed him. With trembling hands, he touched Jim's face, knowing it but not recognizing it. Warm blue eyes lit Jim's expression. It was a look he'd seen a hundred different times and the intimacy of it startled him. Warmth blossomed inside him and he wrapped his arms around Jim. For a moment, Jim tensed and he thought he'd done something wrong. He started to move away, but then Jim's strong arms enveloped him, pulling him close.

"Jim," he whispered. "Not alone." The words flowed across his lips with an effortlessness that surprised him. He couldn't remember anything, but he did know that his place was beside this man called Jim Ellison.

Jim released him, but kept a hand anchored on his shoulder. The contact brought a sense of deja vu and he clutched Jim's wrist, afraid of losing the comforting touch.

"How're you feeling?" Jim asked. "I cleaned you up and put some stuff on the worst of your injuries. It looks like you went one on one with Smokey the Bear."

Blair tilted his head, puzzled.

"It's a joke," Jim said. "What happened?"

Pain. Water. Blair struggled to breathe.

Jim reached out and grabbed his forearms, dispelling the bad memories. Blair blinked and latched onto Jim's hand, clutching it tightly.

"It's okay, Chief. You don't have to talk about it now. Maybe later when you're feeling better."

Blair nodded. Later. Yes. Maybe. He clung to Jim, unwilling to release the only security he'd known since... He blinked. Since the beginning.

Gently, Jim tried to pry his hand out of his partner's grasp, but Blair only tightened his grip. With a sigh of surrender, Jim settled on the ground beside Blair, studying him. He'd have to get Blair into some clean clothes, but first he would need a bath in the lake and a shave if they could manage it. Jim had already turned down his sense of smell as far as he could. The only problem was that Blair appeared as weak as a newborn puppy, reminding him of the time he'd nearly lost Blair to Golden. An involuntary shiver went through him and Jim quickly forced the memory aside. Maybe if Blair had something to eat first.

"Are you hungry, Chief?"

Blair's blue eyes widened and he nodded.

Jim again tried to extricate himself from Blair's hold, but was just as unsuccessful the second time. "Look, Chief, you're going to have to let me go if you want some food."

Blair frowned and shook his head vehemently. Alarm radiated from his haunted blue eyes and Jim took a shaky breath. He leaned close to his partner and cupped Blair's knee. "I'm not going to leave you. I'll stay right here. I promise. You can watch me from right there while I throw something together."

Blair trembled, but slowly he released Jim.

Before Jim moved away, he said with a tender smile, "Hey, Chief, now that I found you I don't plan on letting you out of my sight again. Got that?"

Blair's anxious gaze searched his face and after a few moments, he nodded tentatively.

Blair's eyes followed his every movement and Jim wondered anew if he was suffering only from amnesia or something worse. Why wouldn't Blair talk to him? Even if he had lost his memory, he could still speak.

Jim threw some oatmeal into boiling water and, after cooking it for a minute, he spooned the glutinous mixture into a bowl. He added a generous amount of sugar, knowing Blair could use the energy and a dollop of canned milk.

"Here you go, Chief. I know you'd rather have one of your algae shakes, but this is all I have," Jim said. He held the bowl out to his guide. "It's okay. Go ahead. Take it."

Like an animal ready to dash away with the slightest provocation, Blair reached for the bowl. His palms curved around it and he sniffed the contents. An appreciative smile curved his lips and he wrapped his fingers around the spoon.

"Go slow. It's warm," Jim warned.

Blair's eyes widened and he tried to shove the bowl back into Jim's hands.

"No," Jim said, holding up his hands. "It's all right. You can eat it. Just be careful that you don't burn your tongue."

Blair frowned, looked at the oatmeal, then back at Jim. He picked up the spoon and slowly placed some cereal in his mouth. A rapturous smile snared Blair's lips and he ate mouthful after mouthful until the bowl was empty. He handed it back to Jim.

"You were hungry, weren't you?" Jim asked.

Blair nodded and pointed at the bag of uncooked oatmeal then at the empty bowl.

Jim chuckled. "You want more?"

Blair's vehement nod gave his answer.

"I'll make a deal with you. You take a bath and afterward, I'll make you some more."

After a moment of deliberation with his brow furrowed in concentration, Blair nodded again.

"Good. I'm just going to get some soap and towels," Jim said. He was acutely aware of Blair's desperate gaze following his motions. When he returned with the items, as well as clean clothes, Blair visibly relaxed. "All right, Chief, time to find my partner buried under all that dirt."

Jim leaned over and took hold of Blair's arms then pulled him up and transferred an arm to his guide's waist.

Blair's sharp intake of breath told Jim how much his feet hurt and he tried to take more of the younger man's weight. "We'll go slow and easy. No need to rush," Jim said.

With shuffling footsteps, they made their way down to the edge of the lake. Blair's muscles tensed against Jim's body and the sentinel lowered him to the ground carefully. Terror filled Blair's eyes. "What's wrong, Chief?"

Blair just continued to stare at the lake.

Jim squatted down directly in front of him, blocking his view of the water, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be right beside you the whole time."

Blair dragged his fear-filled gaze away from the water and searched Jim's eyes. Jim curved his palm around the back of Blair's neck. "Look, I'll take care of you and I won't let anyone hurt you."

Inhaling a ragged breath, Blair acquiesced reluctantly. Jim helped him strip to his underwear, then removed his own clothing, leaving only his boxer briefs in place. He helped Blair into the water and immediately the younger man started shivering. With Blair's dislike for cold and his weakened condition, Jim worked efficiently and quickly to clean his partner. The grime disappeared, revealing pale skin with more bruises, cuts, and insect bites. He lathered Blair's hair twice to remove all the dirt, sweat, and grease.

As soon as Jim was done, he escorted Blair out of the water and toweled the docile man dry. Then he got the younger man out of his wet underwear and into clean clothing. The jeans that had fit Blair two weeks ago now hung from his hips and he looked more like a little boy in grown-up clothing. Another wave of rage washed through Jim as he wondered who the hell had nearly killed his friend.

He noticed Blair lift his face to the late morning sun's warm rays.

"Why don't we sit here in the sun for a little while?" Jim suggested.

Without a word, Blair lowered himself to a large flat rock and automatically folded into a lotus position. Jim smiled and quickly pulled on dry underwear and his own clothes before hanging their wet things on nearby bushes. He sat behind Blair and used his fingers to comb through the tangles in Blair's wet hair. Once he was done, Jim massaged his friend's scalp, careful of the wound. The younger man leaned his head back and closed his eyes, obviously content.

As they sat there, Blair's head tipped back farther and farther until it rested against Jim's shoulder. Jim glanced at his friend and realized he'd fallen asleep. Smiling fondly, Jim adjusted Blair's body a bit so he fit more snugly against his chest and wasn't in danger of tumbling off the rock.

Jim must have dozed, too, because the sun had moved from its previous position when he opened his eyes. Blair's weight against him, although comforting, had numbed parts of his own body.

"Hey, Chief," Jim said quietly, close to Blair's ear. "Chief, wake up."

Blair jerked, eyes immediately wide open and his heart kicked into high gear.

"It's okay. It's just that if I don't get up soon, I don't think I'll be able to move again," Jim said with a grin to temper his words.

Blair calmed and Jim could feel his reluctance as he shifted away from him. Feeling much older than his forty-one years, Jim levered himself off the rock.

"How about if you shave then you can have some more food?" Jim asked.

Blair brightened considerably and jumped off the rock, only to stumble to his knees. He clutched at the soles of his feet. Jim was beside him right away, a hand on his arm.

"I'll bet they're pretty sore," Jim commiserated. "Wait here and I'll get some thick socks."

Jim hurried into the tent and dug out a pair of the boot socks he'd bought in Duluth. Blair had rolled over to sit up with his back against a rock and when he saw what Jim had, he grinned. It wasn't a full-fledged Sandburg smile, but it was close enough to make some of Jim's fear for his friend's mental condition ease slightly. Jim unrolled the socks and began to put them on Blair's feet. The younger man's hands stayed his actions and Blair took the socks from Jim, his intention clear.

Jim sat back on his heels and watched Blair struggle into the socks. He wanted to help but stifled the urge. This was the old Blair attempting to reassert himself and Jim wasn't going to do anything to hinder his friend's recovery. Finally, Blair had them on and he wiggled his toes, delight lighting up his eyes.

Jim helped him up and Blair shuffled along carefully, although it was obvious the socks did a great deal to cushion his injured feet. Once by the campfire remains, Jim lowered Blair to a fallen tree that served as a bench and brought the pan of steaming water that had been setting on the fire grate over to him.

"Do you want to shave yourself or have me do it?" Jim asked. He wished he had something better than a disposable razor.

Blair frowned and shrugged.

"Okay, I can do it for you, but you just have to stay still," Jim said.

Using shaving cream and the razor, Jim set to work. He raised his touch dial to make sure he didn't cut Blair as he shaved him. Blair closed his eyes and passively accepted Jim's assistance.

It took half an hour to rid Blair of his whisker growth but the effort was more than worth it. Where his beard had been, the skin was lighter, giving him somewhat of an odd two-tone look, but he still looked much more like the old Blair.

"Just relax while I take care of things, Chief," Jim said, brushing his fingers across Blair's now-smooth cheek.

Later, he gave Blair a bowl of hot soup and crackers then watched him devour the food. Once Blair was finished, he set his empty bowl down. His eyelids drooped sleepily.

"Why don't you lie down and rest? I'll keep an eye out for bears," Jim suggested.

Blair cocked his head as if puzzled and arched his eyebrows. Jim faked a hurt expression. "You don't believe me about the bears? I'll have you know I've already had a close encounter of the furry kind."

Blair's grin was interrupted by a huge yawn and Jim maneuvered him around to lie down on the two sleeping bags that were still outside the tent. He re-rolled his sweatshirt and placed it under Blair's head. Though Jim knew his friend was exhausted, Blair's eyes remained open and fixed on him.

Jim gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blair wrapped his fingers around Jim's wrist, not intending to let Jim go. The sentinel laid his hand over Blair's and made himself comfortable beside his battered partner. "I'll stay right here."

Only then did Blair close his eyes and fall into an immediate sleep.

Jim studied the vulnerability so evident on his bruised face. He swallowed the block of emotion in his throat and repeated in a husky voice, "I'm not going anywhere."

The remainder of the day passed in a blur of sleeping and eating. Later in the evening when night swept the sun into oblivion, Jim moved their sleeping bags into the tent.

"Go inside," Jim said. "I've got to clean up around here or we're going to have some unwelcome guests overnight."

Stubbornly, Blair stayed outside the canvas shelter and watched Jim hang the food pack high in the tree and douse the fire until the embers were cool to the touch.

"I've got to take a walk," Jim announced. "I'll be back in a minute."

A chill washed through Blair. He struggled to his feet and ignored the pain that lanced up his legs. If Jim was going for a walk, he would go with him.

Jim rushed toward him and took hold of his upper arms. "Look, you're in no shape to walk up to the facilities. Don't worry, I'll be back in a minute."

Blair shook his head adamantly. Wherever Jim went, he went. Jim was his only fortress against the pain and bad people.

Jim stared at him and Blair willed him to understand. Jim would understand. He always did.

Finally, he nodded. "All right, Chief. We go together."

The image of Jim and another man fighting and falling through a floor appeared in Blair's mind and he gasped. The strength disappeared from his legs and he collapsed to the ground.

Jim dropped down beside him, his face filled with concern. "What's wrong? Talk to me, Chief."

Blair raised a trembling hand to touch Jim's face. "Dead."

The one word utterance startled Jim. Had Blair thought he was dead? Why would he think that? It was Blair who had been missing.

"I'm not dead, Chief. I'm right here beside you," he said.

"Lash."

The name slipped from Blair's lips and it took a few moments to connect the dots. "David Lash is dead. He can't hurt you or anyone else again."

Blair shook his head violently and Jim grasped his face between his hands to stop the frantic motion. "You're safe, Blair. Lash can't touch you. I killed him, remember?"

Slowly, the terror left his eyes. "Partner?"

Jim smiled. "That's right, buddy. Partners."

Blair relaxed in Jim's arms. "Partners," he repeated reverently.

Jim squeezed his shoulders. "What do you say we hit the sack, partner?"

"Walk?"

Jim chuckled, the sound thick with emotion. "You sure you're up to it, Darwin?"

He was rewarded with a brilliant Sandburg smile.

After they answered the call of nature, they returned to the tent and crawled inside. Jim made sure Blair was properly tucked in before slipping into his own sleeping bag. The sentinel lay on his back, his hands clasped behind his head, and stared at the tent's ceiling. Listening to the familiar breathing of his guide, he wondered if he'd been a bit hasty in denouncing the magic of wishing upon a star. Blair had been returned to him, perhaps a little worse for wear, but he was alive and for that Jim was more than grateful.

He closed his eyes and for the first time in a long while, he wasn't afraid to expand his hearing. He fell asleep to the sound of his guide's heartbeat.

Jim turned his attention from the red and white float that bobbed on the water some twenty-five feet from shore and glanced at Blair. The younger man sat on a rock, staring out across the lake. Despite the heat, his friend had on an old flannel shirt and a faded pair of jeans. His feet were still healing so he wore a pair of thick socks with no shoes. Most of his facial bruises had faded to a sickly yellow and lavender, and his cuts had scabbed over. Overall, however, he looked more like the old Blair.

He'd also gotten over much of his fear of the water in the past forty-eight hours, but Blair still refused to be separated from Jim and had become his shadow. Jim didn't mind since he, too, needed the reassuring presence of his friend after the horrible fear of believing he'd lost him. However, Jim couldn't ignore the gnawing fear that this change in his friend was permanent.

Maybe they should've headed back to civilization immediately, but it would've been difficult to manage portages with Blair's feet so badly torn up. There was also Jim's protective streak for his friend -- he didn't want anybody staring at him or pitying him. Hell, just his presence was going to shock people since presumed dead men didn't turn up alive every day. So Jim cared for and protected his guide the only way he knew how.

Jim reeled in his line and gave up on fishing. For having such a good reputation for fishing, the wilderness area hadn't been kind to him. For two days all he'd had was a nibble or two.

He set the fishing rod against a nearby tree and walked over to the uncharacteristically quiet student. "What're you looking at, Chief?"

Blair blinked as if coming out of a trance and smiled. He pointed to a loon.

Jim spotted the now-familiar shape in the water and joined Blair on a nearby rock. "I wonder if that's the one that kept me company when I was looking for you."

Blair tipped his head in question. He hadn't spoken again since the first night. Jim had talked to him, commenting like he normally would and ignoring Blair's silence. But the only time Jim could almost convince himself that Blair was normal was at night when he lay in the tent, his guide less than a foot from him. The soothing heartbeat and breathing would let Jim pretend that Blair was all right.

"After the outfitter dropped me off, I had this loon befriend me. Followed me for two days." He smiled wryly. "He must've figured I needed all the help I could get."

"Smart bird."

"Yeah, I suppose--" Jim stopped and stared at Blair. "You talked."

Blair nodded and rubbed his throat as if he, too, was surprised.

"Do you remember anything?" Jim asked.

Blair pressed his lips together in concentration and shook his head. "Only you."

"Do you remember that I'm a cop and you're a graduate student riding along with me?"

He nodded. "Partners. Friends." He angled his head quizzically. "Cop?"

"I'm a detective in Cascade, Washington."

Blair raised a hand to their surroundings. "Why?"

Jim tried to interpret his question. "You went on a camping trip with some friends in Minnesota. Something happened and everyone thought you drowned."

"Alive," Blair said firmly.

Jim leaned over and rested a hand on Blair's knee. "That's right. You're alive and you're going to stay that way. Do you remember anything about who shot you?"

"Always there," Blair said.

"Where?" Jim asked, confused.

"Protect. You always protect me." Blair stumbled on the longer phrase but Jim understood.

"We protect each other. That's what partners are for. Who hurt you, Chief?"

Blair's lips thinned to a grim line and he shook his head. He looked over Jim's shoulder to stare at the glittering lake surface.

Jim sighed. Either Blair couldn't remember or he was afraid to talk about it. No matter which he was left with no more answers than when he'd first found him.

Jim stood and stepped away from Blair.

"Where?"

The apprehension in Blair's voice, as well as the question, startled Jim. He'd become accustomed to his friend's abnormal silence.

"I'm going to start dinner."

"Mad?"

Jim frowned and shook his head. "I'm not mad at you, Chief. I'm mad at the person who hurt you. I want to hurt him back."

Blair grabbed Jim's arm. "No hurt."

"What do you mean? Don't you want to punish the person who did this to you?"

Blair touched the bullet wound on his head. "No more hurt."

"I don't understand."

Blair curled his hands into fists of frustration. He rubbed his mouth with his knuckles, then extended his hands in supplication. "Gun. Hurt. No more gun."

Jim captured Blair's hands in his. "I'm a cop, Chief. I have to carry a gun."

"No! No more."

Jim had always known about Blair's aversion to guns, although the student had picked one up and used one more than once since he started riding with him. What had triggered this newest wave of abhorrence? Did it have something to do with what happened to him?

If Blair was serious about his wish for Jim to quit the force, could Jim do it? Was his friendship with Blair more important than his job? A month ago, Jim might've answered a different way, but now, knowing the anguish he'd suffered when he thought Blair was dead, he knew where his priorities lay.

Jim leaned close to Blair. "If you really want me to quit the force, I'll do it. As soon as we get back to Cascade, I'll turn in my badge. Is that what you want?"

Blair studied him for a long moment. "Hurt. Dead. Don't want."

"That goes both ways, Chief. When they told me your body hadn't been found, I knew you were still alive. They all thought I was crazy, but I didn't care. The important thing was you." Jim swallowed and shook his head. "Hell, maybe I did lose it. I didn't know if I'd ever see you again."

Jim's voice broke and he turned away. How could he explain how he'd felt when he thought he'd lost his partner and best friend? His neck bowed but a light touch on his arm brought his head up and he saw Blair had moved to stand beside him.

"I understand."

Jim smiled at Blair as the ache in his gut eased. Although he knew that things might never be the same again, he and Blair would make it. They'd find something where their combined talents could be put to use and they'd be able to work together.

"What do you say we open a can of beans for supper?" Jim asked.

Blair waved his hand across his nose and made a disgusted face. "Again?"

Jim wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulders and guided him back toward their campsite. "Can I help it if I have a sensitive digestive system?" He sighed. "Macaroni and cheese, then?"

"Better than beans," Blair said, his eyes twinkling.

An hour later, Jim managed to swallow the last spoonful of macaroni and cheese. "Not bad."

"Okay." Blair added his own unenthusiastic opinion of their meal.

Jim frowned at his empty plate. "It needed butter and real milk."

"Yogurt."

"Yogurt in macaroni and cheese? C'mon, Chief, that's like putting ice cream on pizza." Jim paused then added in a teasing voice, "On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Some onions, sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, a little Rocky Road ice cream. What do you think?"

"I think terrible."

"Nice to see you're getting your sense of humor back."

"Who's joking?" But the sparkle in Blair's eyes belied his words.

Jim laughed and was gratified when Blair joined in. With the laughter came a catharsis of grief and the last tendrils of fear floated away. Blair was alive and he was going to be fine.

Working together, they cleaned their dishes and sat down side by side on the log. Each man held a tin cup of camp coffee.

Blair took a sip. "Good."

"Not too strong?"

"Nah. Used to it."

"You must be starting to remember a few things," Jim commented lightly.

Blair nodded. "Cascade. Rainier." He frowned. "Naomi?"

"Your mother."

"Worried?"

Jim gazed down into his coffee cup. "I don't know. Cathy couldn't get a hold of her to tell her they thought you had drowned."

"Didn't drown," Blair snapped. "Lived."

"Take it easy, Chief. I for one am damned glad you're still in one piece."

The fire crackled, sending a shower of sparks upward. A squirrel scolded from a tree limb and an owl hooted its disapproval of the flame's amber glow. A rabbit scuttled over some dry leaves in the brush behind them and a coyote's call echoed from a neighboring island.

"We should start home tomorrow," Jim said softly.

Infinite sadness filled Blair's face and he shrugged. "Suppose."

Jim glanced upward, noting the stars were obscured by the dark clouds that had come in from the northwest. "We might be in for some rain tonight."

Blair examined the sky and frowned. "Storm."

"What do you say we get the food pack up, make our nightly ablutions, and hit the sack?" Jim suggested, intentionally keeping his food light.

Blair looked at him in surprise. "Ablutions?"

Jim put on his best wounded expression. "Do you think you're the only one who knows big words?"

"Pretend not smart."

"Compared to you, I'm at the bottom of the class, Chief." He helped Blair up. "We'd better get to work."

Jim and Blair cleaned up the camp and made sure the provisions were hung in their usual place. Fifteen minutes later they entered the tent and slid into their respective sleeping bags.

Jim shifted restlessly and opened his hearing. It was too quiet and the air was filled with a hushed expectancy. The hair on his arms seemed to stand straight up. "Blair?"

Blair rolled over and their faces were within inches of one another in the small tent.

"Do you feel it?" Jim asked.

"Sentinel thing?"

Jim blinked. It was the first time Blair had mentioned anything about him being a sentinel, although he had brought Jim back from a zone. "You remember the sentinel thing?"

Jim didn't have any trouble seeing the creases in his friend's forehead.

"Enhanced senses. Zone-outs so need guide."

It was Blair's longest discourse yet. "That's right. And you do remember that you're my guide, right?"

"Think so."

Jim grinned and answered his original question. "I can feel the storm coming."

Blair nodded sagely. "Electricity in the air. Touch sensitive to atmospheric changes."

"That's what I figure."

"Problems? Headache?"

"I'm okay now. But before I found you, I was having a hard time with my senses. I had to keep them dialed down and that was hard to do." Jim managed an awkward shrug. "Had a helluva headache, too, but that's gone."

Blair brought his arm out of his sleeping bag and laid his hand on Jim's chest. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

Blair frowned in confusion. "Not sure. Before I--I disappear, something happen?"

Jim's muscles tensed. He had to be remembering Alex Barnes, but should he try to jog his memory, or should he let Blair remember on his own? "There was something, but I don't know if I should tell you. It might be better if you remembered on your own."

Concentration etched Blair's face then he nodded. "Probably better that way."

Jim relaxed and laid his hand on Blair's that still rested on his chest. His nerves vibrated and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right away. He suspected Blair was the same way, and since his usually glib partner wasn't up to telling stories yet, Jim thought he'd give it a shot. "Did I ever tell you about the time Stephen threw up all over me?"

"Gross."

"You want to hear the story or not?"

Blair grinned. "Tell."

"Pop was working late and Sally had already left to go home so I was taking care of Stephen. We were watching this John Wayne movie and eating popcorn that Sally had made for us before she left. This thunderstorm hit about ten o'clock, after we'd eaten all the popcorn and Stephen, he used to hide under the table when it thundered. I called him a scaredy-cat, told him the Duke wouldn't be hiding under a table. So he came out and just then, this thunder cracks right above us and you know what he does?"

Expectantly, Jim waited for Blair to ask him what Stephen did. Instead a cross between a snore and a snuffle came from his sleeping bag.

Jim sighed and murmured, "It wasn't that boring."

He closed his eyes and despite himself, fell asleep with a half smile on his face.

The body lay stuffed in a culvert. There was no dignity in its awkward sprawl and Blair turned away, vomit rising in his throat. He fought the sour bile back and steeled himself against his sorrow and anger. He dropped to his knees beside Roy's body and closed his eyes to hold back the tears. When he opened his eyes, Roy was gone and in his place was Jim.

Blood dribbled from Jim's mouth and down his chin, a stream of scarlet against the white parchment of approaching death. The spark disappeared from Jim's sky blue eyes and grief cleaved Blair's heart in two. The pain he'd felt with Roy's death multiplied and his own breath stuttered in his lungs.

"Jim! No, Jim! Not you!"

Invisible hands grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him away from Jim. No! He wouldn't leave him alone. He had to stay with him.

"Blair! Chief! Wake up."

Jim's voice penetrated his haze of hysteria and Blair reached upward as if struggling to the surface of a raging river. His fingers brushed whiskered skin and he concentrated on the sensation to pull him from the grip of the horrific nightmare.

"Jim?"

"Right here, Chief." The relief in Jim's voice was tangible.

Blair blinked at the dim oval in front of him and Jim's concerned features coalesced into view. He wrapped his hands around Jim's solid arms and intense relief washed over him. "I thought you were dead."

"It was only a dream," Jim reassured.

"It was so real. You died in my arms. I saw the life leave you and I couldn't do a damn thing to save you," Blair said, his voice husky with remembered anguish.

"It was only a dream," Jim reiterated, then suddenly stopped and stared down at him. "You're talking normal."

Blair blinked and eased away from Jim's arms, though he remained close enough that their shoulders brushed one another. He pressed a hand over his head wound. "Most of it's coming back."

"Who shot you?"

Blair shook his head in frustration. "I remember everything up to taking a canoe by myself to check a pictograph out. Then there's this haze of nearly drowning and my head throbbing and hiding out here." He glanced up at Jim anxiously. "You said everyone thinks I'm dead?"

Jim nodded. "I went to your memorial service." He shuddered. "I don't want to go through that again."

Blair placed his hand on Jim's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

The sentinel's wry smile flashed in the dim tent. "It wasn't your fault. The authorities gave up looking. They figured you were lying at the bottom of the lake."

"But you didn't give up."

"Would you have given up if our places were reversed?"

Blair shook his head. "Not until I saw your body." He took a deep breath. "Thanks, Jim."

"For what?"

"For going against the odds. I would've died out here if you hadn't come looking for me."

Jim's reply was interrupted by an abrupt flash of lightning followed by a thunderclap directly above them. The sentinel slapped his palms against his ears as his face twisted in pain.

Blair latched onto Jim's wrists. "Dial it down, Jim. You can do it. Picture the dials and slowly turn them down, one by one."

As Jim did as his guide said, the clouds opened up and released sheets of rain. The rain was so heavy the tent roof bowed under the onslaught. Blair wondered if it would hold.

Jim finally opened his eyes and eased his hands from his ears. "They're at normal."

"Good. I'm going to turn on the portable light." Blair did so, then murmured, "Oh oh."

"What is it?" Jim asked.

Blair pointed to a corner of the tent lit by the lantern's yellow glow. "Water's already seeping in. We're going to be in for a long wet night."

As if to emphasize Blair's words, thunder crashed above them. Trees moaned all around them and the rapid lightning created a strobe effect. Blair wrapped his arms around himself. "It feels like it's cooled off by at least twenty degrees."

"Try thirty," Jim said dryly. He placed his palm on the nylon floor. The deluge came down too fast for the ground to absorb the moisture and water flowed between the earth and the tent's floor, soaking the waterproof material. He glanced at Blair and noticed his partner's back touched the wall. "You're getting wet, Chief."

Blair pulled away from the tent wall. "My shirt's wet."

"How bad?"

"Not too. My sleeping bag feels damp."

Jim placed his hand under Blair's bag. "Damn. Crawl out of there before you get soaked, too."

Blair tried to slide out of the bag without touching the tent's walls and aches registered all over his body. He realized those were all the injuries he'd received during his headlong escape into the woods. But what or who had he been running from?

"Now what?" Blair asked.

Jim was already shifting around. "We put my sleeping bag on top of yours and hope mine stays dry."

"What about me? Where do I sleep?"

Jim laid his bag on top of Blair's damp one and deliberately waggled his eyebrows. "I promise I'll respect you in the morning."

Blair couldn't help but laugh. "That's what they all say."

After a variety of machinations, they lay in a single sleeping bag with Blair's back to Jim's chest.

"Now I know how a sardine feels," Blair grumbled.

"It's better than freezing," Jim said, always Mr. Practical.

"I suppose." After a moment of silence, Blair said, "Oh, and I promise not to throw up on you."

He could feel Jim shake his head. "Go to sleep, Chief."

Blair closed his eyes, comforted by his partner's nearness. A brief memory of being alone in the woods sent a chill up his spine. The helplessness had been nothing compared to the fear that he'd be by himself for the rest of time. Although he and Jim had known each other less than four years, his most compelling memories were those involving the sentinel.

Best friend seemed a shallow title for someone he shared so much with. He loved Jim in a way that some small-minded people might think was abnormal, but in this world where the word friend had come to designate anyone from a casual acquaintance to an old high school chum, his relationship with Jim persevered. Hell, they spent more time together than most married couples.

The steady up and down of Jim's chest against his back finally lulled him to sleep despite the tempest outside the tent.

Early the next morning Jim slid out of the crowded sleeping bag.

"Watch the feet," Blair grumbled.

Jim didn't even try to hide his grin as he struggled into his jeans and boots. "Sorry. I'm going out to see how much damage the storm did."

He unzipped the tent door and screen, and stepped out into the rain-freshened air. He took a deep breath and surveyed the camp with a critical eye. Broken branches littered the ground and a small gully had been formed down the slight incline leading to the lake. The food pack had miraculously remained high off the ground.

Jim followed the path to the water and was relieved to see the canoe hadn't been washed away. He squatted down and scooped a handful of water onto his face. He froze when he heard the snap of a twig but then recognized Blair's heartbeat and scent.

"Nice to see the world is still here," Blair said.

Jim straightened and faced his tousled partner. "After that storm, I had my doubts, too."

Blair knelt and splashed water on his face. He grimaced. "A hot shower sounds like heaven about now."

"Didn't sleep well?" Jim teased.

"How could I? You kept kicking me."

Jim laughed with a lightheartedness he hadn't felt in too long. "You could've just ignored it, like I did with your snoring."

"I don't snore."

"And bears don't live here either."

Blair angled a look at Jim. "So, if a bear snores in the woods, does anybody hear it?"

"Only a sentinel," they replied in unison.

The silly banter felt good and the two men strolled back to the tent together. Jim lowered the food pack and found the food intact. They opted for a cold breakfast of Cheerios and canned milk, then bathed in the lake while the sun dried the tent and sleeping bags.

By noon, the remaining storm clouds had retreated, leaving the sun to reclaim the sky. Although their equipment was still damp, Jim and Blair packed up and stowed their things in the canoe.

"Ready to hit the road?" Jim asked his healing partner.

"If you haven't noticed, we're miles from the nearest road."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Hop in, Chief. I'll take the stern."

Blair grinned. "Aye, aye, skipper."

He stepped into the canoe while Jim steadied the craft. Grabbing the extra paddle, he settled on the front seat. Jim pushed off and jumped in, wobbling the canoe for a moment or two.

"Chief, catch," Jim called out.

Blair turned and caught the Jags cap. Holding the cap in his hands, Blair remembered where he'd seen it last. "Uh, Jim, you aren't pissed at me for borrowing it, are you?"

"Nah. You just get cooking detail for a month when we get home."

Blair didn't know if he was serious or not so decided not to pursue the subject. Instead, he settled the cap on his head and began to row. At first he was a little stiff, but soon he warmed up and dipped the oar in and swept it back with fluid motions. Despite the circumstances that had brought Jim to the BWCA, Blair was glad to share this time with him. They traveled in companionable silence for a couple of hours then decided to take a break in mid-afternoon on a small island.

Jim plied his oar and steered them toward the island. The nose nudged onto the shore and Blair jumped out, ignoring his feet's discomfort. He pulled the canoe up and Jim stepped out, stretching his arms high in the air. The sentinel reached for their tent and sleeping bags.

"While we take our break, we can throw these over some rocks and they can finish drying," Jim said.

"Good idea," Blair said.

Working together, they spread the damp items out. The strenuous activity of paddling had given them both an appetite and Jim made peanut butter sandwiches. Blair attacked his with the same gusto as his partner.

"Isn't this better than one of those algae things?" Jim asked, his eyes twinkling.

"When in Rome..." Blair began, an answering mischievousness in his eyes. "I'm going to take a dip in the lake."

"I guess I'll clean up then."

"Thanks, Jim."

Blair stripped off his clothing and dived into the water. He came up sputtering, but the coolness eased his aches and pains. Fifteen minutes later he emerged and dried himself with a towel that had been placed near his clothing. Smiling Blair glanced at his bare-chested friend who was lying on a rock, his head pillowed by his T-shirt. As Blair watched, a foot long black and white snake slithered out of the grass and slid across Jim's hand. Jim lifted his arm absently and the snake slipped down his forearm to the shallow in the crook of his elbow.

Jim's eyes flew open and he immediately spied the intruder. With a yelp, he flung the snake into the brush and jumped to his feet. He spun around to meet Blair's grin.

"Why didn't you warn me?"

Blair shrugged. "It was just a little garter snake."

"I hate snakes," Jim said, shuddering visibly.

Blair's mouth dropped open. "Did I know that?"

"Probably not," Jim muttered. "No one knows. I mean, it's not like we run across snakes all the time in Cascade."

"But we have seen some when we've been camping, right?"

Jim nodded, his cheeks flushed. "Yeah, but I always knew they were there so I could prepare myself."

"But this one surprised you."

"Yeah." Jim peered into the grass with distaste.

"Sorry," Blair said. "If I'd have known, I would've warned you. If you want to catch some more shuteye, I'll stand guard."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I'm fine."

Blair studied him. "You don't look fine. You look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks."

Jim ran a hand over his short hair. "To be honest, it's been a long month."

"Starting with the flu epidemic at the department?"

Jim nodded. "Yeah. I worked eighteen, nineteen hours a day, then I had this conference in Philadelphia and I didn't sleep well in the hotel. When I got home, I had the message from Cathy about your drowning."

Blair hung his towel over a nearby tree branch and joined Jim as they both sat on the rock Jim had been lying on. Blair drew his knees to his chest, put his arms around them, and crossed his ankles. Jim sat beside him in much the same position.

Blair stared out across the water as he sifted through his returning memories. "It was Alex Barnes, wasn't it?"

Jim stiffened beside him. "What do you mean?"

Blair turned his head toward his friend, his expression somber. "Ever since her, we've been drifting apart."

Jim shifted uncomfortably. "It was my fault you died."

"But I didn't." Earnestness filled Blair's expressive face. "You saved me. I don't know how, but you merged your animal spirit with mine."

"Chief, I--"

"No, hear me out," Blair said. "We should've had this conversation three months ago but I let my guilt get in the way."

Jim's mouth dropped open. "Your guilt? You didn't do anything wrong, Chief."

Blair held up his hand and began to tick off each point. "First, I should've told you about my suspicions regarding her immediately. Second, I fell down on my job as your guide. Third, I was so wrapped up in her I didn't see what was going on with you until it was too late. And fourth, you didn't drown me, she did."

"But I threw you out of the loft. If I hadn't done that, you wouldn't have been in your office that night and she wouldn't have drowned you."

Blair could see the effort it took for Jim to talk about what had happened. "But don't you see -- as your guide, I should've been there to help you work through those feelings you were having. If I had, I probably would've tied your behavior of increased territorialism with the arrival of another sentinel in your city." He shook his head. "I can't believe I was just going to spring her on you one day. I figured I'd bring you and her together in a controlled environment and see what happened. Only you already knew about her, at least subconsciously."

"It wasn't your fault, Chief. I should've talked to you about it instead of just following my instincts, or whatever it was that was controlling me."

"But that's just it, Jim. It was instinct, a sentinel instinct, to keep your tribe safe from an intruder. You thought that by sending me away, I'd be safe, but it backfired."

Jim laughed, but it was a bitter sound. "Yeah, it backfired big-time."

The two men were silent for a minute or two.

"So what did it teach us?" Blair asked softly.

Jim took a deep breath and met Blair's gaze squarely. "That I have to trust you to help me with these weird sentinel things."

"And that I can't keep secrets from you," Blair said, equally as serious. "Like you said when you found me, we're partners. And partners do more than watch each other's backs. They trust one another and don't keep secrets from one another. That's where we fell down three months ago."

"And it almost cost you your life." Jim shuddered.

"But you saved me." Blair butted his shoulder gently against Jim's. "So what do you say we both lose the guilt and get back to good?"

Jim gazed down at his guide and smiled fondly. "I will if you will."

Blair held out his hand. "Let's shake on it then, partner."

Jim took Blair's hand and pulled him close for a warm hug. "Welcome back, Blair," he said huskily.

Blair blinked back tears and returned the hug, embracing his sentinel with equal warmth. There was still more they had to discuss, but this was a good beginning.

Jim stiffened and released Blair.

"What is it?" Blair asked.

"I hear something. Another canoe headed this way."

The two men stood and a few moments later, a canoe with two women came into view from around the island. Blair stared at them as he tried to grasp some memory just beyond his reach.

"Do you know them?" Jim asked quietly.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Lois, the outfitter's wife, said two women were leaving the same time you and your friends were headed out. She said their names were Mary and Linda King."

Blair gazed at the two attractive women in the canoe and the memory of wishing them luck returned. He relaxed. "I remember them."

"And?" Jim prompted.

Blair shrugged. "And that's it. I thought we might run into them after we started out, but we never did."

The women caught sight of them and waved.

Blair lifted a hand in reply. "There's something about them..." he said softly.

Jim's piercing blue eyes met his. "What is it?"

"I don't know. I mean, I remember them from that first day, but it seems like there's more."

Jim brushed his finger along the bullet furrow in Blair's brow. "Does it have to do with that?"

A cold shiver of dread slid through Blair, but he shook his head. "I don't know. But if they did shoot me, would they just wave like that?"

Jim crossed his arms as he watched the canoe with the two women glide away. "Probably not," he admitted. "But I'll feel better when we've put some distance between us and them."

Blair nodded without hesitation. "Me, too."

Without speaking, the two men gathered their gear and re-packed it in the canoe. They had a short discussion over the map then headed back out onto the smooth-as-glass lake.

"So Cathy couldn't find Naomi?" Blair asked.

Jim glanced across the cheery fire at his friend. "That's what she said."

Blair took a sip of coffee. "I'm glad. I mean, if she had, Mom would think I was dead."

Like I did, Jim thought, but didn't say aloud. Instead he refilled his tin cup from the pot on the fire's grate. "So, what's the story between you and Cathy?"

"You heard about that, huh?"

Jim lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "She mentioned you and her were going to get married." He didn't say he'd also read it in the younger man's journal.

"It was just one of those things. I thought she was the right one; she thought I was the right one. We lived together for a few months and I realized I wasn't ready for anything permanent."

Jim tilted his head in the silence that followed, listening to the crackling of the fire and the riffle of the nearby stream they'd be following the next morning into another lake.

"She mentioned something about you being obsessed with your sentinel studies," he commented.

With Jim's enhanced sight, he could see a flush cross Blair's face.

"That's why I wasn't ready for anything permanent," the younger man said. "It was like I knew you were out there, you know? And it wouldn't have been fair to Cathy, knowing she would always be second."

"Finding a sentinel was that important to you?"

"It was my life, Jim." He canted a crooked smile. "And now that I found you, I know I made the right choice."

Jim's throat tightened. He didn't know what to say, how to tell Blair that even without the sentinel senses, the grad student was his best friend. "I'm glad, Chief."

Jim knew his simple declaration was woefully lacking, and he opened his mouth to say more but Blair beat him to it.

"Me, too, Jim. I can't imagine what my life would've been like without you in it."

"Ditto, Chief."

Jim smiled and Blair grinned back, telling the sentinel he understood even without all the fancy words.

Blair tipped his head back and gazed at the stars. "Look, there's Orion and the Little Dipper." He lowered his head to look at Jim. "Did I ever tell you how Ursa Major got its name?"

Jim grinned and shook his head. As Blair launched into his story, Jim felt the remaining knots unravel within him. All was right with his world.

Jim's eyes opened and he was immediately wide awake and alert. He lay there, cataloguing his surroundings with his senses. Blair was snoring quietly on his side, facing Jim. Nothing moved within the tent. He expanded his senses, wondering if a bear had decided to check out the camp but the familiar gamy smell of a black bear wasn't nearby. He couldn't detect any other wild animal, except a raccoon some hundred feet away.

An odd floral scent caught his attention and he quickly expanded his hearing but the nearby stream acted as a white noise generator. Stifling his frustration, he focused on the odd scent.

Perfume.

What the hell? As far as he knew, the wildlife in the area didn't wear it. But those women they'd seen earlier probably did.

He shook Blair's shoulder. "Wake up, Chief," he said in a low voice.

"Wh-what?" Blair sat up.

"I think those two women are coming to pay us a visit. C'mon, we need to get out of here."

Jim rummaged in his backpack and pulled out his gun. He cast a glance at Blair, but the younger man probably couldn't see in the darkness. Blair might not like it, but if those women were the ones who'd hurt his guide, they were going to pay for their crime.

Jim and Blair both took the time to pull on their jeans. Jim slipped his bare feet into his hiking boots while Blair quickly tugged on the heavy socks he'd been wearing. Jim crawled to the tent door and unzipped it carefully. The eastern horizon was just beginning to glow. He went through the tent opening first and when he didn't see any danger, he reached back to catch Blair's hand in his and helped him out.

"What do we do?" Blair asked, his eyes wide.

"Keep close to me."

Jim kept his hold on Blair and led his guide into the trees some thirty feet away. Once behind a large oak tree, Jim hunkered down and Blair automatically copied his action.

"Can you hear them?" Blair whispered, sentinel soft.

"Not with that stream so close." Jim held his revolver between his hands. "I smelled perfume." He caught movement and stilled. "I see them."

Blair rested his hand on Jim's back, but Jim suspected it was more for comfort than to help with his senses. Either way, he didn't mind.

Jim allowed his sight to zoom in on his targets. Their platinum blonde hair stuck out like beacons in the darkness, but it was the pistols in their hands that caught Jim's attention. His mind raced, trying to come up with a plan. Once they went into the tent, they'd know their quarry was on to them.

The women stopped ten feet from the tent and straightened from their hunched positions. They raised their weapons and glanced at one another. The older of the two nodded slightly and they started shooting.

Jim jerked at the sound and covered his ears. He hadn't realized his hearing had been turned up so high. Now Blair's hand on his back became his anchor, his rope to follow back.

"Oh my God," Blair breathed, obviously shocked. He continued rubbing circles between Jim's shoulder blades.

Jim's hearing evened out and the ringing in his ears began to taper off. He stared at the tent now filled with holes and felt horror at the cold-bloodedness of their actions. Then he hardened his resolve and rose from behind the tree.

"Police. Freeze," he shouted.

The surprise on the girls' faces would've been comical if not for what Jim had just witnessed.

"Drop your guns. Now!" he ordered.

Despite their pretty faces, the cold expressions made them repulsive.

"How the hell did you know?" one of them demanded.

"I said drop your weapons," Jim repeated, his hands tightening on his revolver. He didn't want to shoot them but he wasn't going to let them hurt Blair again.

"Maybe we should--" the other woman started tentatively.

"Shut up, Mel," the other one shouted.

Obviously they'd given the outfitters fake names... for five years. What was going on?

Neither woman lowered her gun, and Jim knew he had to come up with a plan quickly to end the stalemate. Using the same technique he had against Veronica Sarris, he used his sentinel vision to sight his weapon down the barrel of the seeming leader's gun and squeezed the trigger.

The woman squealed and dropped the ruined pistol as she clutched her hand close to her chest. "Shoot him," she ordered Mel.

Before Jim could shift his aim, Blair stepped out of the shadows and struck Mel's forearm with a branch. She, too, dropped her weapon.

Anger filled Jim at the risk his guide had taken moving around to the side of the women but he had to deal with the two would-be killers first. He had them sit on the ground then had Blair lower the food pack and hack off some lengths of rope to tie the women.

Fifteen minutes later, the women were bound snugly to two separate trees. He examined Mel's arm but it wasn't broken, only bruised. The other woman merely glared at him the entire time.

Jim grabbed Blair's arm and pulled him off to the side. "What do you think you were doing? If they'd seen you, you could've been shot."

Blair aimed a steady look at him. "But I wasn't. Besides, I'm your partner."

"A partner who doesn't like guns."

"That's never stopped me before."

"But you said--" Jim broke off, puzzled.

"I said what?"

Jim shifted uncomfortably. "Before you regained all your memories, you said you wanted me to give up my gun."

"You're a cop. You have to carry a weapon." Blair's brow furrowed. "It's true that I've never liked guns, but you can't do your job without it."

"Unless I wasn't a cop."

"Being a protector is part of who you are, Jim. You can't give that up, not even for me."

"I would, if you asked me to," Jim said softly. He sighed. "You've been hurt so often since you started riding with me."

Blair laughed gently. "I hate to tell you this, Jim, but this time I did it all on my own. You weren't even in the same state when I was shot."

"But--"

"No buts, Jim. I was hurt and not in my right mind when I said I wanted you to give up your gun. I could never ask that of you. Never. Being a sentinel, being a cop, carrying a gun -- it's all wrapped up in the Jim Ellison package, and it's my choice whether to accept you or not." He stared into Jim's eyes, willing him to see the truth. "I choose to accept Jim Ellison, just as he is."

Jim clenched his jaw as the block of emotion expanded in his throat. He swallowed once, then again, before he could speak. "Thanks, Chief." He turned his attention to their prisoners. "I'll backtrack their trail and find their canoe and gear. Will you be all right alone with them?"

Blair nodded and touched Jim's arm. "I'm fine."

Jim cupped the back of Blair's neck and squeezed gently. "Yeah, you are."

It took Jim only twenty minutes to find where they'd pulled their canoe up to the other side of the island. He pushed the canoe into the water and jumped in, then paddled it around to where he and Blair's camp was. Blair met him by the water and pulled the nose of the canoe in.

"That didn't take long," he said.

Jim noticed Blair had pulled on a sweatshirt. "What do you say we see what they have in their packs?"

Jim tossed them onto the rocky beach. It didn't take them long to discover what the women were up to.

"Prescription drugs, schedule two and four," he announced, tossing large bottles of Vicodin, Codeine and Percocet onto the ground. "All made in Canada."

"When I think of smuggling drugs into the states, I don't think of Canada."

Jim unfolded a map of the Boundary Waters area from their pack and saw several islands circled with a red pen with different dates and initials by each one. There were also half a dozen other islands circled in black marker which were all on the Canadian side of the wilderness area, with dates but no initials. "This looks like drops and pick-up points."

Blair studied the map over Jim's arm. "Why don't we ask them?"

Sunrise was close at hand with the eastern sky turning a coral pink when Jim and Blair rejoined their prisoners. The two women glared at them.

"Are you going to leave us tied up here forever?" the leader demanded.

Jim shrugged. "What do you think, Chief?"

"Sounds like a plan," Blair replied. He turned to the women. "Why did you shoot me?"

"Why do you think?" Mel answered with a sneer.

Blair's sight turned inward as splintered memories returned. "I remember now, Jim. They were arguing with two men. I thought they might need some help so I went in to shore. I saw the bottles of drugs but I wasn't sure what they were. That's when they started shooting at me."

"Was it one of them who shot you?" Jim motioned to the bound women.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. The first shot missed and I scrambled back to my canoe. I was able to push off, but then there was a lot of shooting. One of the bullets hit me." He rubbed the furrow in his brow. "I think I fell into the water but then it's all pretty much blank until I woke up on land."

"We figured you'd drowned," the leader of the women admitted, her eyes filled with loathing. "But then we saw you today and we couldn't let you tell anyone."

Jim's hands fisted at his sides as he barely kept in check the impulse to do violence against her for nearly killing Blair. He felt a hand on his arm and knew it was Blair. His guide had an uncanny ability to sense Jim's emotions, but he also had the ability to soothe them, too. Jim's muscles lost their tautness and he donned his cop persona.

"We've got you with illegal drugs and a map that I have a feeling will lead us to your contacts," Jim said. "You're going to have every law enforcement agency, including the DEA, Forest Service and the Royal Canadian Mounties, on you for transporting stolen drugs across international borders on federally protected land. I suggest that you cooperate fully with them." He canted an eyebrow. "Or maybe you want to take the entire rap yourselves?"

Frightened, Mel twisted around to look at her partner. "Heather?"

"Shut up, Mel. They're only trying to scare us."

Jim shrugged nonchalantly. "No need to. Even without the drug charges, we've got you for two charges of attempted murder and one charge of felonious assault. And since you really aren't Mary and Linda King, you'll be facing federal time for lying on an official permit to get into the Boundary Waters."

Jim glanced at Blair who grinned back at him. Blair was right -- being a cop and protecting his tribe, and more importantly, his guide was who he was. He couldn't imagine doing anything else, and he was damned lucky Blair understood and accepted that. And he promised himself he would never take him for granted again. From now on, Blair would know how much Jim appreciated his support and friendship.

Blair turned around to look at Jim in the canoe's stern. "It doesn't seem right just leaving them on the island with nothing but a tent, their sleeping bags, some food, and bottled water."

"I wouldn't feel too sorry for them, Chief. They got the tent without the bullet holes," Jim said.

"Yeah, well, I guess a couple of days isn't going to hurt them." Blair turned forward once more and continued paddling. It was a little more difficult because of the second canoe tied to theirs. "What if they swim off the island?"

"Where would they go? Without a map, they'd get lost."

Blair had to admit his friend was right. He knew he shouldn't worry about them -- they would've killed him and Jim if the two men had been in the tent. Still, it was hard to reconcile the two heartless killers with the flirtatious women he'd seen at the outfitters.

It was nearing noon when he felt Jim stop paddling. He pulled his own oar in and glanced back. Jim was trying his cell phone again. Every time he'd checked before, there'd been No Service. But this time Jim's face lit up.

"I don't think the prisoners will have long to wait," Jim announced.

Blair listened to him talk to the authorities, giving his name and identifying himself as a police officer. Jim gave them the name of the island where the women were and what his and Blair's position was. When he closed the phone, a triumphant smile lit his expression.

"They're sending out patrol boats right away. In fact, we should be back to civilization by tonight," Jim announced.

It seemed like a lifetime since Blair had stood under a hot shower or ate a meal not cooked over a camp stove. He was looking forward to going home, to the loft he shared with his sentinel.

Jim's prediction turned out to be right and he and Blair found themselves at Northern Outfitters that evening. Lois Lane hugged Blair, then Jim, exclaiming how miracles still did happen. Jim didn't argue with her. Her husband John shook their hands and helped them unload the canoe. He didn't even charge Jim for the ruined tent.

By the time they got into Jim's rented car that was exactly where he'd left it nearly two weeks ago, the adrenaline had worn off and both men were exhausted. John and Lois told them where to find a good motel in Ely and they thanked the couple for all their help.

While Blair showered in the motel room, Jim found a cafe that made up two hot meals for him to carry back to the motel. Blair waited until Jim was out of the shower and in his comfortable sweats before sitting down to eat the meatloaf, mashed potatoes, gravy, peas, and slices of apple pie.

"Now that's what I call a Midwest meal," Blair said after burping.

"Sounds like you enjoyed it."

"I did, but there's no way we could eat like this every day. I'll bet you could hear the arteries hardening."

Jim laughed. "I wouldn't go that far, Chief. That was the best meal I've had in weeks." He glanced at the lighted numbers on the clock radio. "I should call Simon and give him the good news. It's only eight o'clock in Cascade."

Blair nodded and while he gathered the empty bags and plates, Jim used his cell phone to call Simon. The younger man sat cross-legged in the center of his bed, listening to Jim tell his boss about him. Blair heard Simon's "thank God" even from where he sat when Jim told him he'd found the grad student. They talked for ten minutes, with Jim giving him the abbreviated version of the two female drug smugglers who tried to kill them, then a little bit about the Boundary Waters. Finally, Jim ended the call and lifted his gaze to Blair.

"He said to take as much time as we needed. The flu epidemic has run its course and the department is back up to full strength," Jim said.

"To be honest, as pretty as this area is, I'm ready to head home," Blair said.

Jim nodded. "I'm with you, Chief." He reached for the motel phone. "I'll call the airline and get us booked on the earliest flight out."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to drive back," Blair said.

"That'll take three days."

Blair shrugged. "Simon gave us the time." He plucked at a loose thread on his sweats. "It would give us time to talk about stuff."

Blair prepared himself for Jim's argument.

"I'll call the car rental agency in the morning and tell them we'll be dropping the car off in Cascade," Jim merely said.

Shocked, Blair stared at his partner. "You don't mind?"

Jim brought his own legs under him and rested his elbows on his thighs. "I would have a month ago, but when I thought you were dead, it gave me time to think about things I didn't want to think about before." He leaned forward, pinning Blair with his steady gaze. "You're my best friend, Blair. You're also my guide and my conscience. I'd be lost without you. If you want to take the scenic route home and talk about things, I'll do it. I can't promise I'll be any good at the talking part, but I promise I'll try."

Much to Blair's annoyance, tears filled his eyes. He'd drowned and Jim had saved him. Everyone thought he was dead and Jim had found him. And now Jim was willing to open up, something Blair doubted he'd done for anyone, even his ex-wife. Yes, all the things he'd given up to find his sentinel had been worth it, and everything he'd have to sacrifice in the future to stay with him would also be worth it. As long as they were together, things would be all right.

"I hear you, Jim," Blair said, his voice husky.

Jim's own eyes glittered a little brightly when he met Blair's. "I hear you, too, Chief." He smiled warmly. "Finally, I hear you."

~finis~

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