by K Ryn
"Now listen... the second rope should counter the balance. When I cut you free, you're going to drop down. All you need to do is stay on your feet for a few seconds."
"Jim... I'm not sure..."
"You have to," the older man ordered firmly. "I need both hands to steady the rope while I cut it. If you shift forward too suddenly it could upset the balance and set off the exposive."
"Jim..."
"Here we go," Jim interrupted him again, sawing at the rope.
Blair felt himself falling as the strands parted and he tried desperately to make numb muscles respond. He gasped, pain shooting through him when his feet hit the floor. He fought to keep himself upright, but the injured knee buckled and he felt himself pitching forward.
Fearing he'd killed them both, he had a moment of absolute panic and then suddenly Jim's arms were locked around him, halting his plunge.
"Got you," he heard Jim murmur in his ear as the older man grabbed him under the arms, dragging him away from the explosives.
Blair's arms and body were like lead. His head was spinning and when Jim stumbled, a shaft of pain burned through him from his left side, forcing a stifled scream from his lips.
Jim immediately lowered him to the floor, but the weight of his ribs on his collapsed lung made it impossible to breathe. Jim saw his distress and eased him from his back onto his right side, where he lay gasping, his face contorted with pain.
"Stay with me, Chief," Jim murmured, crouched at his side.
Enveloped in pain and unable to fill his lungs, Blair tried desperately to concentrate on the Sentinel's voice, fighting to stay out of the blackness that threatened to fill his mind.
Jim placed his hand under Blair's right cheek, cushioning the younger man's head as he raised it slightly, hoping to ease his friend's breathing. After a few ragged breaths Blair opened his eyes once more.
"You know, for somebody who looks so awful, it's sure good to see you," Jim said encouragingly, hoping that his voice and face reflected none of the horror he felt looking at the affects of the beating that his partner had taken. Blair's left eye was nearly swollen shut, his face was covered in bruises, and Jim could see an open gash over his left temple. He flashed the penlight into Blair's eyes and noted the differences in the pupils -- a sure sign of a concussion or an even more serious head injury.
Blair coughed again. his body curling into itself as he fought against the pain and the breath it stole from his lungs.
"Hang in there," Jim urged.
"... trying..." Blair gasped, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
"I know..." Jim eased Blair's head down to the floor and gently ran his hands over his Guide's arms and legs to assess what else might be broken. As he touched Blair's left knee he felt the younger man shudder in pain and he turned his attention to the restraints locked around the slim wrists.
"These are going to have to wait until we're out of here," he said, easing Blair's arms down to rest on the floor and taking the bruised face in his hands once more.
"I take it... you've got... a plan..." Blair whispered.
"Don't I always?" Jim answered, thinking fast.
Blair was in no shape to make it back through the maze below them -- moving him ten feet had nearly blacked him out. Jim looked down at his friend and realized that they only had one choice.
"We're going to get you stashed away, and then I'm going after Dirkson," he said softly. "We're got backup and medical crews standing by on the outside. Once I take Dirkson out, we'll call them in. Maybe even get you a ride on one of those med-flight choppers."
"Remember... I don't... like... heights..."
"Yeah... I remember. Time to get moving."
Jim pulled Blair to his feet, supporting the wavering body. He took a step forward. Blair tried to move with him, but his left knee buckled again.
"My knee..." he whispered, his voice full of the pain he tried to overcome.
"Lean against me," Jim directed. "We won't go far."
"You're right about that, Jim-bo" echoed a voice from somewhere beyond them. "You left the maze... game's over... you forfeit."
With only that warning, Jim heard a faint electronic click. Wheeling, he practically threw Blair backward, covering his friend's body with his own as an explosion lifted him off his feet and thrust him into blackness.
Jim awoke to a shooting pain in his side and a loud buzzing in his ears. Another sharp nudge pushed him fully awake and his eyes flickered open. For a moment he stared up into blackness, feeling oddly disoriented.
"Wake up time, Jim-bo."
Memory returned in a rush and the Sentinel forced himself to roll to his s ide,his instincts urgently telling him to find his Guide. A flare of light made him blink rapidly, his eyes adjusting to the change. He glanced toward the light and saw Dirkson setting a small lantern on the floor. But Jim wasted no time on watching Dirkson, because between them, crumpled motionless on the floor, lay Blair.
Jim started to rise, intending to move to his partner's side, but Dirkson waved him off, pointing a gun toward the younger man's head.
"Uh, uh, uh..." Dirkson warned.
Jim turned his attention back to Blair. The buzzing in his own ears kept him from finding the heartbeat that he so urgently needed to hear, so he turned to his other senses for reassurance. He could see only the side of Blair's face as he lay sprawled partly on his back, and the Sentinel watched him closely, searching desperately for any sign of life. Focusing on his friend's face he finally saw what he was looking for -- a brief, regular flaring of the nostrils.
Dirkson noted his distraction and moved to stand between them, the gun now pointing at Jim.
"He's still alive," Dirkson announced, eyeing Blair as he spoke. "But unfortunately he's too far gone to have much use anymore."
Callously, Dirkson put the toe of his right boot under Blair's left shoulder and jerked upward, rolling Blair off his back and onto his side, facing him away from Jim.
"Of course I'll still kill him, but it won't have quite the same effect, now will it?" he sneered. "It's too bad you were so clever with the pressure pack. It would have been so fitting for him to have died at your hands."
"Like you killed your men," Jim murmured softly, his mind searching for something that would distract Dirkson and give him a final chance to overcome him. "You're not a soldier, anymore Dirkson. And you're not even a warrior. There's no honor in what you've done. You're nothing but a coward and a murderer."
"And you're what?" Dirkson sneered back. "You're the same as me. You would have made the same choices I did."
"No," Jim answered softly. "Not now, and not even then. You never could appreciate the value of human life. You never understood the truth."
"Truth!" Dirkson screamed, waving the weapon dangerously between Blair's still form and Jim. "The truth is you abandoned us. You made the mission plans, you sent us into that area..."
"You may have convinced yourself of that over the years. But you're the one that made the decision to go there. Against orders."
"Your orders!" Dirkson screamed again, his body shaking with anger. "Well, I'm tired of your orders. And I'm tired of you!"
Jim saw him raise the gun, saw the insanity in his eyes and realized that there was no place to go -- that he was looking at death. He tensed, shifting into motion anyway, determined to buy Blair a chance.
And suddenly the room was thrust into blackness. Angling his lunge fractionally, Jim rolled to the right, scrambled to his feet and then threw his weight sideways to the left, crashing into Dirkson. Together they fell to the floor, locked in a deadly struggle.
Locked in his own battle just to stay conscious, Blair barely heard them. He'd fought through the blackness and woken just as Dirkson had rolled him to his side. He'd stayed motionless, partly out of fear and pain and partly out of hope -- hope that maybe he could supply Jim with a distraction.
"But what kind of a distraction," he had wondered, his body weak, his mind still dazed.
&nb
sp; His eyes had flickered open and caught sight of the lantern only a foot away from his bound hands. With agonizingly slow movements, he had forced himself to reach out toward it, gritting his teeth against the pain, pushing numb and aching muscles desperately as he listened to Dirkson rage at Jim. Blair's fingers were only inches away from the lamp when Dirkson had screamed in anger. Blair had caught the change of tone -- as if a decision had been made -- and forced himself into one final lurch. He'd gasped out loud as pain exploded through him, just as his fingers hit the lamp and sent it rolling to the side, extinguishing the light.
Blair winced as the chatter of gunfire erupted around him.
The explosive rounds of the firing gun echoed in the chamber and Jim fought desperately for control of the weapon, fearing that Blair would be caught by a stray shot.
Dirkson fought like a madman, and for a moment, the Sentinel faltered as doubt filled him. Dirkson took advantage of what he felt was a loosening of Jim's hold and delivered a staggering blow. Pain roared through Jim's mind, immediately followed by anger.
Anger that built into a rage that this time, Jim didn't try to control. Instead he fed images into it that increased its ferocity -- the burns on Simon's hands, the look of fear on Cassie's face, the reek of fire and destruction in Jorgenson's apartment, the smell of Hansen's death, the look of pain on Blair's face when he'd been struck by the car.
And finally he fed into it all the emotion he'd held back since first realizing that Blair had been taken. As flashes of his Guide's bruised face and his agonized gasps for breath reverberated in the Sentinel's mind, he found himself turning on Dirkson with an incredible desire for vengeance of his own.
Blair heard Jim scream out something in the darkness and that cry made him shiver. Convinced that something was terribly wrong, Blair scrambled to right the lamp, his numb fingers fumbling with the switch to turn it on. Finally he managed it, wincing away as the light flared in his eyes.
He heard an agonized gasping sound and he turned his head, fearing to find Dirkson looming over Jim. But what he saw was the opposite -- Jim's hands were locked around Dirkson's neck. The man flailed weakly at the hold, but it was obvious that he was rapidly loosing ground. Jim was winning, he noted with relief, but Blair continued to stare at them, certain that something was wrong.
Then he saw it -- the insane expression that contorted Jim's face was too much like the one that had filled Dirkson's earlier. Dirkson had pushed him and now the Sentinel's rage was out of control, seeking its own retribution.
"Jim!" Blair gasped out, seeking to divert his friend. "Jim! Stop!"
A fit of coughing shook him, but Blair refused to give in to it. Spitting out a mouthful of blood he called out again, hoping to break through to Jim and stop him before he did something that would haunt him forever.
"Jim! Stop It! You're killing him!"
But Jim either didn't hear him or didn't choose to listen to the words as the pressure around Dirkson's neck became a deathgrip.
"Jim... stop!... please..." Blair gasped, ignoring the pain and spitting out more blood as he pushed himself to move, crawling toward the two men.
Whether he'd finally gotten through, or whether it was his lurching movement toward them, Blair would never know. Jim suddenly raised his head and looked in his direction. As their gazes locked a strange look rippled across Jim's face and he glanced down, staring in confusion at the man in his grip.
"... Jim... please... don't... he's not worth it..." Blair cried out weakly. He lay stretched forward, his weight resting on his bound arms, straining for just one more breath, his head and body pounding in agony, his gaze locked on his Sentinel.
With a lurch, Jim straightened, releasing his hold on Dirkson and moving a staggering step away from where he sprawled motionless on the ground. Jim stared down at him for a moment, then his gaze sought his Guide's again. Blair thought he caught a glimmer of recognition and sanity in his friend's eyes before the roaring wave of blackness that he'd been holding off finally started to overwhelm him.
"He's... not... worth it..." Blair repeated as he collapsed forward onto the floor.
Jim shuddered as if he'd been drenched in ice water and shook himself, feeling like he was emerging from a nightmare. He staggered to Blair's side and knelt heavily beside him, easing the younger man over to his right side and fumbling to find the slowing pulse.
"Chief..." he whispered, staring down into Blair's bruised face.
Blair's eyes flickered open, but his gaze was dull and filled with pain. He tried to draw in a breath, and Jim heard the gasping rattle clearly. He slipped out of his jacket and slid it under Blair's head, hoping the support would ease the labored breathing.
"Just hold on," he murmured urgently. "I'm going to call in the cavalry and get us out of here."
Jim lurched over to Dirkson, patting him down and stripping him of anything that might be a potential weapon. He nodded in relief as he discovered a cell phone in one of Dirkson's jacket pockets. He also found a small device that he guessed was the remote unit for triggering some of the traps in the building and pocketed that as well. Jim took a quick look around and tugged the body over to a metal pylon. With a set of restraints that he pulled from Dirkson's own pockets Jim secured him to the pole, then crossed back to kneel at Blair's side. With one hand resting on his Guide's arm in reassurance, he punched in the number to reach the SWAT team outside.
"Simon... it's Jim..."
"Jim what the hell is going on in there? Are you all right?"
"Dirkson's contained," Jim answered, rising to his feet and moving a few feet away from Blair. "Sandburg's still alive, but we've got to get him out of here fast if we're going to keep it that way. I'm going to need some help."
"I'll send a team in right away."
"Don't try it," Jim warned. "The floors below us are still rigged with active traps. Any chance you can put one of those birds on the roof?"
"Negative. We already checked that out. The roof won't support the chopper's weight. We can put team up there though and lower down a lifeboat."
"All right," Jim answered, thinking fast. "If there's a way out from this level, Dirkson's probably got it rigged. Maybe there's a way we can take advantage of that."
"How?"
"By punching a hole in the roof. I'll try to find the location. You get a fix on this cell coordinate when I give you the word."
Jim moved quickly back to Blair's side.
"Hang on buddy, I'll be right back," he murmured softly.
Blair's only response was a wheezing rattle as he struggled for breath, no longer even truly conscious.
Jim started scouting, eyeing the ceiling for the exit that he wanted.
Simon's call interrupted the search a few minutes later. "Jim, you find anything yet?"
"No," Jim responded, even his enhanced senses at a loss in the almost total darkness.
"Turn to your right and go about thirty feet," Simon suggested. "I've got a spotter on the building next door. He says there's a rooftop access there -- might be our way in."
Jim moved quickly, following Simon's directions and in seconds was standing under the exit he'd been looking for.
"I see it," Jim reported. "It is rigged, but I can't see the charge. It must be on the outside. Can your man hit it?" Jim asked hopefully.
"He says he can," Simon answered grimly. "But you'd better take cover. We could just as easily bring this whole place down as punch a hole in it."
"Give me two minutes." Jim sprinted back to Blair's side. He looked around for something to shield them with and saw the outline of a piece of heavy equipment like he'd seen on one of the lower floors. Cradling his young partner in his arms, he carried Blair to the far side of the machine and lowered him gently to the floor.
Seconds later the whole place shook as the bomb was triggered. Jim leaned across Blair, sheltering him with his own body while parts of the ceiling fell around them. Finally the shaking stopped and Jim coughed, dust filtering into his lung
s. He looked down at his Guide and realized that the gasping rattle that he'd been monitoring was gone -- Blair was unconscious and no longer breathing.
"Don't quit on me, Chief," Jim ordered, shifting positions and placing his own mouth on Blair's, blowing air into his lungs, trying to help him breathe.
"Jim!" Simon's anxious cry echoed in the darkness.
"Over here... hurry..." he yelled back and then breathed into Blair's lungs again.
Again and again he forced breath into Blair's lungs until his own head swam with dizziness. He was so focused that he wasn't even aware of the pounding of approaching footsteps and the brightening of the room. It wasn't until Simon grabbed his arms and pulled him backward that he realized that help had indeed arrived.
"Jim... Jim... back off... let them work..." Simon ordered.
As his eyes registered on the EMTs surrounding Blair, Jim stopped resisting Simon's hold and let him pull him back to rest against the machine. A shudder rippled through his body and he found Simon thrusting an oxygen mask in his own face and urging him to use it.
"He's not breathing!" Jim objected, pushing away the offered assistance.
"He is now," commented one of the medics who was kneeling near Blair's head. "Pulse is thready... pressure's low. He's losing blood somewhere..." He ripped open Blair's shirt and very gently examined the younger man's injured left side, then leaned forward and listened for a few moments to the rasping breathing.
"Punctured lung," he murmured, nodding. "Has he been conscious at all?" he asked, glancing up at Jim.
"On and off," Jim answered, his eyes never leaving his young partner's pale face.
"Get him on oxygen and a start a unit of O negative blood..." the man ordered one of the other techs. Jim started to lose track of what was happening, the medic's terse commands ringing like screams in the stillness.
"Starting IV, lactated ringers..."
"Left pupil's partly fixed... 10 percent dilation right eye..."
"Immobilize level one..."
"Pressure's dropping..."