by K Ryn
Venting his frustration with a audible snarl, Jim concentrated on the senses that were operative. If Blair were within range, he would be able to pick up the younger man's heartbeat. All too aware of the danger of focusing on only one sense, the Sentinel reached down and scrabbled in the dirt, finally finding a small sharp rock that fit in the palm of his hand. Closing his fingers around it, he squeezed his fist until he felt a trickle of blood. Straightening, he kept up the pressure, using the pain to keep him grounded as he focused his hearing.
At first, all he could hear was the crackling sound. Unable to identify it, he filtered it out. The familiar throb of his Guide's heartbeat suddenly filled his ears. Turning slightly to his left he inched his way across the rocky ground until the rhythmic pounding roared in his head. He stumbled and went to his knees, his fingers catching on something smooth and silky.
It took Jim's dazed mind a few seconds to understand what he'd found. Using the long curly strands of his partner's hair as a guide, Jim reached out to place a hand on the younger man's head. Blair was lying face down, he discovered quickly. Tracing the curve of Blair's jawline with Sentinel-sensitive fingers, he worked his way to the pulse point on the anthropologist's neck, breathing a sigh of immense relief at the steady throbbing that confirmed what he'd heard -- his Guide was alive.
Alive, but unconscious. Jim shook his head in frustration ignoring the dizzying twinges that accompanied the movement. Compelled by the need to hear his friend's voice, the Sentinel eased the younger man to his back.
"Chief... Blair... wake up buddy..."
Blair grimaced against the stab of pain in his leg as gentle hands rolled him over. It was a major production just to open his eyes, but the sight of his partner hovering over him was well worth the effort. Ignoring the annoying ringing in his ears, he smiled, a crooked grin filling his face as he sank back onto the rocky ground.
"Hey, Jim... you're awake. That's great, man."
The smile shifted into a frown as the words reverberated in distorted waves of chaotic noise. He struggled to focus on Jim, who was still holding him tightly. He could see his partner's lips moving, but there was no sound. At least none that Blair could interpret as actual words. And there was an odd look to the older man's eyes.
"You can cut the lip syncing routine, Jim," Blair muttered in annoyance, thinking his partner had decided to shift into one of his 'give Sandburg grief' modes. "It's not nice to take advantage of someone who's brain damaged." He flinched as the words warped into weird echoes again, pounding painfully against the inside of his skull.
Blair's words weren't making any sense to him, but they increased the panic of his Sentinel to a new level. What lip syncing routine? Brain damaged? What's he talking about? The smell of blood abruptly flooded the Sentinel's nostrils and he jerked back in surprise.
Even with his blurry vision, Blair caught the subtle signs of an impending zone-out.
"Hey, man... hold on. Now's not the time to lose it," Blair demanded, struggling to sit up.
The ringing in his ears was like a hundred telephones going off all at once -- shrill, piercing clamors at far too high a decibel range. He grabbed at his head in agony and felt strong fingers encircle his wrists, pulling his hands away. Blair looked up into Jim's strained face and saw his own pain reflected in the older man's pale blue eyes. Seeing the Sentinel's mouth working, he suddenly realized that Jim wasn't joking with him.
"Jim... I can't... I can't hear you!"
The horrified declaration exploded from his lips taking all the air from his lungs in one gasping cry. He tried to fill them again, but it felt like a giant was sitting on his chest. He inhaled noisily feeling the dry, hot air burning his throat. It still wasn't enough.
He tried to push away the giant and found himself gripping Jim's wrist. He met the Sentinel's gaze and shook his head desperately.
"Come on, Chief... just breathe," Jim demanded. He didn't need his sight at that moment. The anguish in his Guide's voice gave him a clear picture of the younger man's distress. He knew he needed to find a way to cut through the panic and reach Blair somehow, but this time he couldn't use words.
Grabbing the younger man's hand he drew it forward to rest on his own chest. "Breathe, just breathe..." he ordered, inhaling and exhaling in exaggerated movements. Then he placed his hand against Blair's chest again, mouthing the words slowly.
Over and over he repeated the gestures and the words, until finally he heard a change in the younger man's breathing and the hammering of his heart.
Okay... Okay... Okay... Okay...
Blair concentrated on the mantra of silently repeating that one word until the space between them was even and matched each drawn and exhaled breath. When he felt he had himself under control, he looked up gratefully into his partner's face.
"Thanks..." Wincing at the garbled noise that should have been recognizable words, he missed the strange vacant look in his partner's eyes. "Sorry... it's so weird... all I can hear is this ringing... I can't even hear the words I think I'm saying... can you understand me at all?"
"You're coming across loud and clear, Chief," Jim assured him, nodding. He released the hold he still had on Blair's wrist and settled back on his knees, hesitant to tell his Guide about his own injury until he had a better picture of what they were facing. "What happened? The last thing I remember is someone moving in the back seat of the convertible."
"Jim... wait... I can't understand you..."
Blair pressed his fingers to his ears and massaged them gently. Grimacing at the painful throbbing, his gaze shifted to Jim once more. He stared at the older man, certain that something was wrong. The lines of tension around the pale blue eyes drew his attention, teasing his memory with a disconcerting sense of familiarity. It took another moment to identify just exactly where and when he'd seen that look -- and what it meant. His own eyes widened suddenly in shocked comprehension.
"Oh, man... You can't see, can you? That blow you took to the head --"
"Easy..." Jim reached out to grab him by the shoulder, hoping to head off another panic attack, but he missed his hold and found himself being held instead.
"Forget about me, man. Can you see anything at all?" Blair demanded. Fingers clenched in Jim's shirt he peered desperately into the older man's eyes.
"Blair, settle down..."
"Damn it... how am I supposed to... if I can't hear you... I can't understand..."
"Breathe!" Jim ordered, placing his hand on the younger man's chest again.
The gesture stopped Blair cold.
"Okay... Okay, we can do this, right?" Blair muttered, reining in his panic and grabbing on to what little control he had left. Losing it was not a choice here. Taking a deep breath, he kept talking, hoping his words were making sense to Jim. "You can hear me, I just can't hear you... gotta find a way for us to communicate... just give me a minute to think..."
He glanced back at the remains of the burning car and scanned the highway. There was no sign of Ben, but Blair didn't want to discount the possibility that he could come back to finish them off. Third time might just be the 'charm' in this little adventure. He bit back a groan when he saw the broken water jug, swallowing convulsively against the fear that surged in his heart.
The increase of pressure on his wrist brought his gaze back to meet Jim's worried expression. "I'm working on it, man... I'll get this figured out... I promise..."
Communication... cell phones... modems... sign language... smoke signals... yeah, right... go for cave paintings while you're at it, Sandburg!
"Not cave paintings... sand paintings..." he whispered suddenly. Grabbing a stick he used it to smooth the ground in front of Jim's knees. Wrapping the Sentinel's fingers around the crude writing instrument, he maneuvered the older man's hand toward the ground. "Sand writing to be exact... I'll talk, you write. Got it, Jim?"
The perplexed look vanished from the Sentinel's face immediately. Awkwardly, he scratched out a single word in the sandy soil.
&n
bsp; REPORT
"Report?... oh... tell you what happened..." Blair ran his fingers through his hair, pushing the tangled locks out of the way. "The short, unadulterated version is that Ben and his buddies laid a trap for us. One of them clobbered you and made a prize idiot out of me. Then they took Jake's car and left us here."
Jim's head snapped up and he tapped Blair on the arm. Holding one hand up like a stop sign, he used the other to smooth the sand and printed three more words.
TOOK THE CAR?
Blair cringed at the disbelief in his partner's expression. "I know I should have done more to try to stop them, it's just that... Look I'm sorry man, I was a little busy dodging bullets at the time... and trying to keep you alive... After they took off I managed to find some water in the trunk of the convertible and get that gash on your head cleaned up and I..."
His words faltered as he glanced down at his own wound, and then back up at the older man's face. Jim couldn't see it... didn't realize that he'd been shot... and Blair suddenly was determined to keep it that way for as long as he could.
"I guess I tried to hold it together, hoping you'd wake up," he rushed on. "But they came back. They took a few shots at the convertible on the first pass. There was gas leaking out from either the fuel tank or the cans in the back... I don't know which... I got you away from the car and then realized I'd left the water behind. I went back for it, thinking I could get it and get out of range before they made another pass... I had the jug in my hand, man... I thought I was gonna make it... there was an explosion... next thing I know you're waking me up and I can't hear a thing."
Jim had begun to write something new and Blair craned his neck to read it.
"SHOCK... yeah, well I'd say that's probably a pretty safe bet, Jim."
A hand on his arm stopped his rambling. Jim gently tapped Blair's left ear with the stick and then gestured with his hands. He brought them together quickly, palms smacking solidly and then shook them as if they stung.
"Sound... no, shock... explosive... oh... the explosion... of course... it was like getting hit by a solid wall of noise... no wonder I can't hear anything... concussive shock or something like that..."
Blair's gaze shifted back to the darkened patch under the broken water jug. Putting into words what had actually happened made it all too real. The desperateness of their situation hit him like a blow. The heat of the sun pounding down on his aching head and the dryness of his mouth were vivid reminders of just what lay ahead. Without realizing it, he moaned aloud.
Strong fingers suddenly cupped his chin and he turned to find his partner's face creased with concern. The Sentinel's gaze held a penetrating intensity that even the blindness couldn't erase. With a ragged breath that was almost a sob, Blair looked away, swallowing convulsively. Teetering on the brink of losing it entirely, he gritted his teeth to keep from either laughing like a madman or bursting into tears.
Jim touched his cheek and Blair jerked back, shaking his head.
Responding to his Guide's anguish, the Sentinel grabbed Blair by the shoulders, forcing the younger man to look directly at him.
"We're still alive," he said firmly, hoping that his expression would convey what Blair couldn't hear in his words. " We'll get out of this, Chief. It's going to be okay."
He released his hold and quickly scratched the word OKAY in the dirt.
"Okay?" Blair's voice cracked on the near scream. "Nothing's okay! We're stuck in the middle of nowhere with no wheels, no food and no water because I blew it. Not to mention the fact that you practically had your head split open before I did anything to back you up..."
Jim tried to interrupt him, but Blair was on a roll. Hearing the rising panic in his partner's voice and the rapid pounding of his heart as he raged on, Jim knew he needed to do something to stop it. Reaching out blindly, he grabbed one of his friend's flailing arms and pulled the younger man toward him until Blair's hand was resting on his chest.
"Breathe," Jim ordered, holding Blair's hand in place as he took several deep breaths of his own, hoping that what had calmed his friend earlier would work again.
Blair started to pull away, but the look on Jim's face stopped him. He forced himself to inhale and exhale, slowly and evenly, shuddering at the distorted pounding of his own hammering heart.
If it sounds this loud to me, what's it sound like to Jim? he wondered. The expression on the older man's face told him that the Sentinel was close to zoning.
That possibility shook Blair out of his panic. "Jim! Come out of it," he urged, reaching out to grip the detective's arm.
The Sentinel shuddered and drew a deep breath.
"Okay," Blair nodded, taking a few more moments to quiet his own racing heart. "I've had my panic attack and wigged out, you've zoned out. Now we're even. Guess we should concentrate on getting ourselves out of this. What's the next move?"
Jim sat quietly, intensely aware of the heat of the sun on his back and head. It was hot already and it was only late morning. With no water, that would be a problem unless they found a place to hold out for a while. He fumbled for the stick and scratched a word into the dirt.
"SHELTER?" Blair murmured, reading what Jim had written. He scanned the horizon again, wishing for his friend's eyesight. Nothing except flat desert and pavement, stretching for miles. "No rooms at the inn here. Guess we'll have to take a walk and look for other accommodations. Question is, which way? Forward or back?"
Blair looked back the way they had come and then shifted his gaze to study the road that stretched toward the reservation.
"I haven't been out here in years," he admitted. "But there was an old guy that lived next to the highway, about an hour's drive this side of the reservation. Kept some gas on hand just for those people who thought that they could ignore reality and make the trip on less than a full tank."
"Used to charge an arm and a leg just to get a few gallons off of him," Blair added, a wry smile crossing his face as he remembered running out of gas himself and what it had taken to get the old man to sell him some. He glanced at Jim who was listening intently to his ramblings and quickly got to the point.
"He might not be there -- he was ancient even then -- but it's the only shelter I remember, unless you saw something while I was sleeping. Something closer?"
Jim's expression hardened as he concentrated on remembering what he'd seen while driving, then he shook his head negatively.
"Guess it's forward then," Blair muttered, struggling to his feet.
He winced and uttered a muffled curse as he put weight on his left leg. He quickly glanced over to his partner who had also risen. Seeing Jim sway dizzily on his feet, Blair reached out, catching the Sentinel's arm. The strange look on his friend's face made him swallow the wisecrack he'd been about to make.
"Hey, it's okay," Blair whispered, tightening his grip. "We can do this. We've done it before, remember? And this time it'll be even easier. We're going to be walking a straight line down the road. No desks and chairs to navigate around."
Blair watched closely, but the look on his partner's face didn't change. He's not worried about being blind, he's worried about being out of control. And being in control was everything to a man like Jim Ellison.
"I know this is hard for you, man. Trust me. I won't let you down. Just put your hand on my shoulder. I'll lead and you follow. This'll work. After all, I'm your Guide, remember?"
For a moment, Blair was sure that Jim hadn't heard him, or else that he didn't trust him enough to let him help. But then the Sentinel's face lost its odd expression, filling instead with a slight smile as he nodded.
"Okay," Blair breathed in relief, reaching out to guide the older man's hand to his shoulder. "You ready?" Jim's grip tightened in answer and Blair eyed the long stretch of road ahead of them grimly.
"At least we're traveling light."
It was awkward at first. With Jim positioned almost directly behind him, Blair found himself constantly trying to adjust his shorter stride to the Sentinel's
longer one. After a few minutes, he felt the pressure on his shoulder shift as the older man moved alongside. Blair still had to push his own pace to match his partner's, but Jim was moving easier, with more confidence.
Blair knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the pace for long. He could feel the throbbing in his leg as the bleeding started again. That sensation was almost as bad as the stab of pain that accompanied each step. No, he wasn't going to last long at this rate, but he wasn't about to ask the detective to slow down. Jim would want to know why, and Blair was determined to delay telling him about the gunshot wound for as long as possible. If Jim knew, then he'd want to hold up, take it easy; he'd ignore his own injury to make things easier for his partner.
And they couldn't risk that. Neither of them could. Blair's past experiences had given him a healthy respect for, and fear of, the dangers of the desert. Lack of water wasn't their only problem -- heat or sunstroke could be just as deadly. If they were going to have any chance of surviving, they had to keep moving while they still had the energy to do so.
Taking a deep breath, Blair pushed away his concerns and concentrated on matching his partner's rhythm. They fell into sync within moments. After a while, Blair felt a curious, disjointed sensation sweeping over him as his body shifted into an automatic response to keep his feet moving forward. The feeling worried him, and he cast a quick look at Jim, watching the older man intently for any sign of a zone-out. From the tense expression on the Sentinel's face, Blair guessed that even though his sight was off-line, his other senses were probably working overtime.
Blair started talking, hoping to give Jim something to focus on. He kept his voice pitched in what he jokingly thought of as his 'Guide Mode' -- although the ringing in his ears distorted every sound and left him wondering whether he was actually saying the words his mind was forming. It was eerie not being able to hear his own voice. He could feel the vibration in his skull, the movement of his jaw, but that was all. Still, he kept talking.