Judgements

by K Ryn

  Gasping in pain as his head was wrenched backward, Blair tried to pull away, but one glimpse of the intensity in the pale blue eyes made him stop struggling. As Jim's hand locked around his throat, he closed his eyes in submission. There was no way he was going to win a battle of strength with Jim Ellison. Even on a good day, the Sentinel could break him in two with his bare hands if he wanted. And this was far from a good day. If Jim, in his overloaded state, killed him, it would be his own fault. It was his mistakes that had gotten them into this mess. His mistakes and his failure as a Guide.

  Blair felt a physical wrenching, as if his very soul was being torn apart. He'd done this. He'd damaged the trust between them; the essence of the bond between Guide and Sentinel. He'd thought he was protecting Jim, but all he'd done was drive him to the point of another overload.

  Unaware of the thoughts going through his partner's head, Jim rejoiced at the pulse under his fingertips. Blair is alive. He's not dead, he told himself, forcing the earlier image from his mind. But his Guide was hurt. How badly? What else was wrong besides the gunshot wound? Was the hearing loss only from the concussive effect of the explosion, or was there more that Blair hadn't told him?

  Still gripping the silky, tangled hair with his left hand, Jim reached out with his right, running his fingers across Blair's face -- a face that was burned into his memory and as familiar to him as his own. With a feather-like touch he searched, his fingers pausing momentarily at a cut on his Guide's left cheek. Jaw clenching he moved on, feeling the warmth of a bruise forming on his friend's jaw. He felt Blair wince slightly as he touched the area below the younger man's left ear. Jim made his touch even lighter, gently tracing the path of dried blood that had trickled down onto the anthropologist's neck.

  The thought of more blood made Jim reach out to touch the pulsing artery at Blair's neck once again, reassured by the strong beat that throbbed there. He began to lose himself in that rhythmic pounding until a soft whisper reached him, shaking him out of another zone-out.

  "Jim... please... let me go..."

  Realizing that he was still holding the younger man pinned, Jim released him abruptly. Sinking back into a kneeling position, he struggled to concentrate, struggling to get his overloaded senses and emotions in check. Get a grip, Ellison. Blair needs you. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to remember his Guide's directions. Directions that had always saved him from this loss of control in the past -- Turn down the dials, Jim. One at a time...

  Blair's eyes flickered open when Jim released him. He sat dazed, barely able to look at the man in front of him, much less meet his eyes. He could see the knotted clenching of the Sentinel's jaw, and shivered at the anger he could sense there.

  You blew it big time, Sandburg, he told himself.

  "I'm sorry man," he whispered, closing his eyes against the tears of regret that burned there. "I didn't mean to let you down... I should have handled things better... should have let Ben's buddies beat the shit out of me at the park... maybe they wouldn't have come after us if I had... I should have told you... I never should have let them take the car..."

  Blair realized that he was babbling, but the words poured out and he was too exhausted to stop them.

  Focused on his own internal struggle, Jim didn't hear the words, he only heard the sound of his Guide's voice. A voice that was lending him the support he needed. Four of his senses were under control now. That left one to go. Keep talking Blair, a part of Jim's mind pleaded. Keep talking, I can still hear you. The Sentinel dialed down his hearing to a point where his partner's words were no longer recognizable, the sound of his voice more a vibration than anything else.

  Establishing even a partial sense of control freed Jim's mind to seek an answer to his loss of sight. Remake the connection. He'd done it before when he'd lost his vision. Could he do it again? That loss hadn't been the result of a head injury. It had happened when he'd gotten the Golden in his eyes. His resolve wavered in the face of doubt until he heard Blair's voice in his mind again, urging him to try it.

  Remake the connection. Jim concentrated every ounce of his energy on a vague memory of what he'd done once before. He opened his eyes and stared toward where he knew Blair was sitting, building a picture in his mind of his friend's face.

  For a moment his sight seemed to clear, but what he saw was no match to the mental image he'd created. In his mind, he'd seen Blair's face grinning back at him as if he'd just managed to talk Jim into something questionable -- his expressive eyes flashing mischievously. What he saw now was his Guide's exhausted, bruised face, the blue eyes closed tightly, a trace of moisture on his cheeks. Jim recoiled in shock and the flash of vision ended abruptly, leaving him in darkness once more. He became aware of Blair's voice again, and he instinctively turned up the 'volume', focusing on his partner's words.

  "... screwed up once more... Simon's right, man... you need a real partner... you need a real Guide... someone you can trust... I know you're angry... I know you're disappointed... I promise you... if we get out of this... I'll be gone..."

  Blair's words jolted Jim into the present, clearing away the daze that had been with him since he'd been attacked. He heard the anguish in his friend's voice, understood the mistaken guilt that his partner was trying to shoulder. He sensed the fear and doubts that threatened to overwhelm his Guide. He did the only thing he could do.

  Blair found himself suddenly enveloped in Jim's embrace. A surge of uncertainty flashed through him and he almost pulled away. Instead he leaned into Jim's hold, burying his face against the bigger man's chest, trying to absorb the strength and safety that was emanating from the Sentinel.

  Tears were running down his face, but he made no move to stop them. He felt Jim gently stroke his hair, comforting him as he hadn't been comforted since he'd been a child. He felt the vibration in Jim's chest as the older man spoke, and although he couldn't understand the words, he grew oddly peaceful.

  Jim held him until he felt the tension in Blair's muscles ease, the racing of his heart start to slow. Then he gently shifted the younger man back to rest against the boulder.

  Blair opened his eyes and saw Jim staring at him intently. He started to apologize once more, but before the words were even out of his mouth, the Sentinel reached forward and placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. He watched curiously as his partner smoothed the ground in front of him, scribbling out a message in the dirt.

  NOT ANGRY -- SCARED

  "Scared? Jim, I've never seen you scared of anything. You're a rock, man."

  Jim shook his head, smoothing the ground and writing once more.

  YOU SCARED ME

  "Me? How could I..."

  I NEED YOU

  Blair read the words and raised his eyes to his friend's face in amazement. He shook his head slowly.

  "Jim, you need someone you can count on..."

  Jim drew a line under the words for emphasis and then hurriedly wrote out two more.

  DON'T LEAVE

  Blair's breath caught in his throat . He felt the sting of tears in his eyes again. "Man, are you sure?" he managed to whisper. "This won't be my last screw-up, you know?"

  In answer, Jim smoothed the ground once more. Blair leaned forward, his heart racing as he read what Jim had written. Four words, each linked together with arced lines forming a circle. No beginning. No end. Continuity.

  SENTINEL -- GUIDE -- FRIENDSHIP -- TRUST

  Blair looked up into the face of his Sentinel, his friend, and reached out to him. His hand wrapped easily around his partner's wrist and he felt Jim's close around his own. Time seemed to stand still for both of them then, their unspoken words and emotions surging across the physical link, settling into a deeper connection of commitment.

  The throbbing of Blair's pulse under his fingertips brought Jim back to the present and with a smile he released his hold. "We'd better get a new bandage on that," he said, gesturing toward Blair's leg before pulling off his own overshirt and ripping bandages from it.

/>   Blair nodded and settled back into the rock, grimacing as he bent his knee and shifted his leg so that Jim could reach it more easily. He pulled out his pocket knife and started to saw through the blood soaked bandage, but Jim reached out and stopped him, taking the knife from his hands.

  "Rest," the Sentinel ordered, placing his hand on his Guide's shoulder and gently, but firmly, pressing him back.

  "Okay, I got it," Blair murmured, falling back into his pattern of light-hearted joking. "I just want you to know that there's a big element of trust going on here. I mean, I don't let just any blind guy take a knife to my leg, you know."

  He saw Jim's face crease in a quick grin, then he winced as the tightness of the bandage released. Black spots danced in his vision, and the buzzing in his ears turned to a roaring thunder. A firm hand on his shoulder grounded him again, and he sighed, leaning back into the rock. Jim quickly put pressure on the wound and applied the new bandage.

  He watched as Jim tied it off, then helped him straighten the leg once more. The detective scrubbed his hands in the coarse sandy dirt. Grabbing a large flat rock, he eased it under Blair's left ankle to elevate the injury.

  It took a moment for Blair to realize what his friend was doing. "Jim... can you see?"

  "I'm working on it." Jim made a small pinching motion with his fingers. He picked up the tattered remnants of the shirt he'd been wearing and helped Blair slide into it before settling himself to the ground and into the small patch of shade.

  "Flashes? Like before?" Blair asked hopefully, still anxious about his friend's impaired vision.

  "So, so," Jim answered, motioning with his hand.

  "Man, that's great!" Blair exclaimed, the relief evident in his voice.

  Jim wanted to reassure his friend that all was fine, but he realized that he had to be honest with his Guide, if he expected Blair to be honest with him.

  COMES AND GOES, he scratched out in the dirt.

  "So don't depend on it yet, right?" Blair nodded in understanding. "Okay. We'll wait it out. It'll get better."

  Blair saw Jim nod in tentative agreement. Feeling the sun on his face he glanced up, trying to assess the time of day. "It's late afternoon," he said thoughtfully, glancing over at the older man. "This is probably the best shelter we're going to find. Do you want to sit it out for a while and get moving again when it gets cooler? We'll probably feel some temperature change in a few hours. Sun should go down around eight."

  The Sentinel considered his Guide's words and then nodded. He reached down and tossed one of the Argula pods into Blair's hands, then touched his fingers to his eyelids making a motion as if drawing them closed.

  "Got it. Have a drink and take a nap." Blair nodded. Snapping open the pod he made a face at the sour taste. He saw Jim do the same, sucking on one of the pods for some time before putting it down and shifting to find a more comfortable position. "You know, this would be a lot easier if one of us knew more sign language," Blair murmured. He felt a nudge at his right boot and glanced up to see Jim glaring at him.

  "I know... I know... house rules apply even out here. No noise while the detective is sleeping." Blair closed his eyes, a smile flickering across his face as he drifted off.

  Jim lay still, monitoring his partner's heartbeat and breathing. When he was certain that Blair was completely asleep, he eased himself to his feet and moved to stand over the still form. He strained for a return of his vision and was rewarded with a brief flash of an image before blackness reformed in front of his open eyes. It was less than what he'd hoped for, but it was enough to reassure him that Blair was resting easily. Satisfied for the moment that his Guide was safe, he turned and faced out onto the barren landscape.

  Concentrating on opening his senses slowly, so that he wouldn't be overwhelmed, he counted to ten, allowing himself to absorb as much as he could in that time, then he dialed back his controls. He felt exhaustion creeping through his tired body and quietly lowered himself back into the position he'd occupied before. He reached out lightly with his senses, shifting his leg so that it rested gently alongside Blair's uninjured one. Satisfied that he would sense any change in his partner through even that light physical contact, the Sentinel settled back, his mind turning over the grim possibilities of getting the two of them out of this mess alive.

  There was nothing but darkness...

  And heat... burning with an intensity that threatened to consume him... evaporating each drop of moisture on his skin until it felt like it would simply flake off if he moved... choking his lungs each time he inhaled...

  And there was a constant, thundering throbbing that reverberated in his head ... a familiar rhythm... his Guide's heartbeat...

  Blair...

  The Sentinel's eyes flickered open and he winced at the assault of light.

  Light?

  Blinking cautiously, Jim slowly levered himself off the ground into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the rock. There was light, where earlier there had been nothing but darkness. Had that been real or was he confusing it with the black emptiness of his dream? Uncertain, he reached up and felt the cloth bandage encircling his head.

  No, it was definitely real... just moving from one nightmare to another, that's all.

  Concentrating on the connection he'd found earlier, he struggled to make the images in his vision clearer. There was a fuzziness at the edges, and a stomach rolling distortion that ebbed and flowed each time he blinked, but his sight was returning. Just not fast enough to suit him.

  "Patience, Jim..."

  With his Guide's voice ringing in his ears, he glanced at the younger man, startled to see that he was still asleep. He grinned suddenly, delighted that his vision had cleared enough to allow him to actually see his partner. The pleased expression slipped as he studied Blair, noting the bruises, the flush of his skin, the dried blood staining the bandage on his leg. As if aware of the scrutiny, Blair moaned, shifting slightly. His forehead creased in a frown and his breathing became more rapid.

  He's caught in a nightmare of his own, Jim realized abruptly. Two guesses as to what it's about.

  Easing forward, Jim extended his other senses. Blair's heartbeat and respiration were accelerating and he was spiking a temperature.

  That's probably where the heat in your own nightmare came from, Ellison. He's running a fever -- probably an infection from that damn bullet wound.

  "Chief, wake up... you're dreaming," Jim murmured softly. Grasping the younger man by the shoulders, he shook him gently.

  Dazed blue eyes met his questioningly. "Jim... what...?"

  "You left a request for a wake up call at the main desk, but they're a little busy right now, so I offered to handle it," Jim answered, forcing a smile.

  A puzzled expression filled Blair's face for a moment. Then the eyes widened.

  "Wake up call... you said 'wake up call'..."

  "You heard me?" Jim rocked back on his heels in surprise.

  Blair's frown was back for a second, and he shook his head in annoyance. "I'm just getting fragments. Say something else."

  "If you really did forget to empty the garbage before we left, you're going to be scrubbing the loft from top to bottom until the smell's gone, Sandburg," Jim growled in mock irritation.

  "I got enough of that to know that there's a threat in there somewhere... something about garbage and cleaning, right?" Blair asked anxiously.

  Jim's smile was genuine this time. It stretched from ear to ear and filled his eyes as he nodded.

  "God, that's a relief," Blair whispered, closing his eyes and leaning back against the boulder. "It is only temporary..."

  The Sentinel gripped his Guide's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He hadn't realized until that moment how frightening the possible permanent loss of his hearing had been to his friend. True to form, Blair had sublimated his own fears and focused on helping Jim through his.

  As if on cue, Blair's eyes flashed open and he fixed the Sentinel with a hard, searching stare of his o
wn. "How's your vision, man? Still improving?"

  "I can see light now, and some images. It's still pretty fuzzy, but it's better when I focus on something. I'm still working on holding the connection. It takes a lot of concentration."

  "Don't push it too hard, Jim," his Guide admonished. "What about everything else?"

  "Staying pretty much in balance," Jim assured him.

  "Good." Blair shifted to ease a cramp in his side and hissed at the stab of pain that the small movement had caused.

  "Let's take a look at that leg," Jim said quietly. He pulled Blair's knife out of his pocket and quickly slit through the wrappings, salvaging those strips that weren't tainted with blood.

  "I take it the desk was too busy to send up room service, huh?" Blair muttered through clenched teeth.

  "Not a four-star choice, I guess," Jim responded, keeping his tone light while he examined the wound. "We'll have to find the manager and register a complaint."

  "Too bad they didn't leave some extra towels," Blair said softly, starting to pull off the shirt that Jim had given him.

  "Keep that on, Chief," Jim ordered. "You're going to need it when the temperature starts to drop. Slipping out of his tank, he began to tear the undershirt into strips.

  "What about you?" Blair argued.

  "I can dial down my sensitivity to the cold. You can't. And it's distracting when your teeth chatter, Sandburg."

  Jim flashed a quick grin at his partner to take the sting out of the teasing jibe. Blair reciprocated with a grimace of annoyance, although his eyes glittered with a smile of their own.

  Rebandaging the injury took only a few more moments. Jim grabbed the remaining Argula pods and tossed two to Blair, who nodded in thanks. "We should harvest as many of these as we can find before we get moving," the anthropologist noted.