by K Ryn
Barely touching the younger man, the Sentinel's examination of his partner took only a few moments. He winced at the fevered heat radiating from the younger man's body, but smiled in grim relief when he found nothing broken. Jim hissed angrily as he checked the freely bleeding bullet wound. The physical contact began to draw Blair back to consciousness and the older man placed a hand on his shoulder to both reassure and restrain him.
The clatter of disturbed stones rolling down the hill announced Heller's arrival. The Sheriff moved to Jim's side and laid a first aid kit, blanket and two bottles of water on the ground before crossing over to check on his deputy. The Sentinel's focus remained on his Guide. He already knew that Holland was dead. The only heartbeat in the midst of this carnage had been Blair's.
With one hand keeping the pressure on the wound, Jim flipped open the first aid kit, quickly scanning its inventory. The supplies were less than he'd hoped for, but there were bandages, a small bottle of an antiseptic solution and an antibiotic salve. He could at least clean and dress the injury until they could get Blair to medical help. Jim pulled off his own belt and wrapped it around the existing bandage as a temporary tourniquet.
Heller was back at his side pressing the keys to the cuffs into Jim's hand before he moved away again to deal with Holland's corpse. The Sentinel nodded gratefully and unlocked the restraints around his partner's wrists, tossing them aside. As gently as he could, he rolled Blair to his back and eased his arms out from under his body, placing the folded blanket under the younger man's head as a pillow. There was a soft groan and the familiar blue eyes flickered open, staring upward in dazed confusion.
"Hey, partner. It's good to see you still in one piece." The Sentinel's smile was genuine, lighting his entire face.
Blair's eyes fluttered shut, the dark lashes trembling against sunburned skin for a moment before they raised again. The gaze that his Guide focused on the Sentinel was filled with peace, but edged with pain. Cracked lips moved finally, but no sound accompanied the effort.
"Hold on a second, Chief," Jim cautioned. Grabbing one of the smaller cloth bandages from the kit, he moistened it from one of the water bottles and held it to his Guide's lips. "Suck on this first and then we'll get you a real drink. You hearing me okay?"
Blair managed a nod. His eyes closed again when the cool, moist cloth was placed in his mouth. Jim kept a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder. After a few moments, he gently pulled the cloth away and dampened it again. Blair made no effort to move, seemingly content to let Jim take control.
"Let's try that drink now, Chief," Jim urged softly after a few more repetitions with the moistened bandage. He slid his hand under Blair's head to support it and raised the younger man slightly while bringing the bottle to the anthropologist's lips. "Small sips," the Sentinel cautioned. "Just take it slow."
Another brief, almost imperceptible nod acknowledged Jim's directions. Sensitized as he was to his Guide, the Sentinel felt the immediate relaxing of the younger man's body as the precious moisture eased his dry mouth and throat. He let Blair drink sparingly for a few moments, then pulled the bottle away and settled him back onto the make-shift pillow.
Blair's eyes opened again and fixed on his Sentinel's face.
"Jim..."
The word was a whisper, Sentinel-soft, but the recognition and emotions that it contained washed away the last vestiges of panic in Jim's heart.
"I know this will be a problem for you, Sandburg, but don't try to talk right now." His mock growl was answered with a slight grin from the younger man.
"How's he doing?"
Blair's gaze shifted to find the new voice. His eyes widened and he flinched toward Jim instinctively when he saw the man's uniform. The Sentinel's grip tightened on his shoulder, holding him in place.
"Easy, Chief," Jim said soothingly. "This is Sheriff Heller."
His Guide's anxious gaze sought his immediately, seeking confirmation that this was help, not more trouble.
"It's okay, Blair. The Sheriff's on our side. Deputy Holland is dead."
"And we found his son a few miles back," Heller said softly, meeting the uncertain stare that Blair turned toward him. "He's dead too."
Blair drew a shuddering breath.
"Bowden found us on the road and told us what happened. After you sent him off he circled back and overheard their plans. That's how we found you," Jim explained.
"They said... they had you..." Blair whispered. "How...?"
"I had some help," Jim answered cryptically. "I'll fill you in on all the details later, buddy. Right now we need to get you patched up and out of here."
"Okay..."
Jim glanced up and met Heller's gaze. "Any chance we can get a chopper out here? Or at least get some medical help to meet us half way?"
"Closest med-flight capabilities are based out of the airport you flew into. I've got Doc Myers coming in from Evansville. My dispatcher managed to track him down earlier, but he was out on rounds on the other side of the county. He should be in town by the time we get back."
Jim forced himself to stay calm, knowing that Blair would take his cue from his behavior. He patted his Guide's shoulder reassuringly and smiled down at him.
"Looks like you're stuck with my medic skills for now, Chief."
"Great... now I get... to be... a practice... dummy..."
"It'll be like old times, partner," Jim grinned, plucking the items he'd need out of the kit.
"Just remember... there's already... a hole... in my... anatomy, man... I don't need... any more..." The trust that glowed from the younger man's eyes belied the slightly caustic comments.
"Relax, Sandburg, and practice some of that meditation you're always pushing on me," Jim murmured, pulling Blair's Swiss army knife from his pocket. "I'm going to release the pressure on this," he explained quietly, barely touching the tourniquet. "It's going to hurt like hell for a few seconds. Just breathe through it."
The Sentinel waited until Blair's eyes were closed and he felt a little of the tension ease from his partner's body.
"How can I help?" Heller asked quietly.
"Hold his leg still. I want to clean the wound out first and then apply a new bandage," Jim answered.
Loosening the belt he slid it higher onto the thigh and quickly tightened it again. Blair winced at the pressure of the tourniquet, but he remained quiet. Monitoring his Guide's heartbeat and respiration automatically, Jim carefully removed the remains of his shirt and the old bandage.
The Sentinel bit back a snarl of anger when he cut the seam on Blair's jeans and peeled back the fabric. There were heavily purpled bruises around the site of the injury. His fingers traced the well defined marks and his jaw clenched. He knew what had caused them. Shaking off the rage that was building, he forced himself to concentrate on the wound itself.
"I'm going to flush this out, Blair," he explained softly, motioning for Heller to be ready. With a deft twist he opened the antiseptic solution and poured it over the bullet wound.
Blair's body arched and his head jerked backward. Heller tightened his hold and Jim flushed the injury again. A choked cry of agony forced itself through the younger man's clenched teeth and his whole body shuddered. There was an abrupt change to his breathing which the Sentinel caught immediately.
"Is he all right?" Heller asked anxiously.
"Just passed out," Jim mumbled tersely. "Let's get this done before he wakes back up."
Jim worked as quickly as he could, making certain that the wound was free from sand and dirt before applying the salve and the new bandage. There were some signs of infection already present, but until they could get Blair to a hospital, this was the best he could do.
As Jim finished, Heller disappeared over the hill to bring the car closer. Placing his hand on his Guide's forehead, the Sentinel monitored the younger man, breathing easier himself as Blair began to regain consciousness.
Pain and utter exhaustion clouded the normally bright eyes when they opened.
"It's all over, Blair. You did fine."
"I passed out..." came the whispered reply.
"Is that what happened? And here I thought you'd found a new relaxation technique," Jim teased.
"Sorry... to be... such... a... wimp, man..."
The Sentinel gently wiped the traces of tears from his Guide's face with another moistened cloth. "You'd better be careful what you say about my partner," Jim snarled softly. "I have it on good authority that his 'Blessed Protector' thinks differently."
"And... his... Sentinel...?"
"His Sentinel knows better. You don't want to mess with him. Believe me."
"I... retract... the statement..."
"Wise decision."
Jim shifted his hand to grip Blair's shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. The crunch of tires and the rev of an engine announced Heller's arrival before the cruiser came around the hill.
"Express ride to town's here, Chief."
The Sentinel slid an arm under Blair's shoulder and eased him into a sitting position. Blair grabbed at the older man and shook his head almost violently.
"No... I don't ... want to... go there..." he protested.
"Blair --"
"Jim... the reservation... please..."
The Sentinel looked up at Heller questioningly. "Do they have medical facilities?"
"Nate's... Grandfather..." Blair gasped, drawing the Sentinel's gaze back to his Guide. "He's the tribe's... medicine man..."
"Sandburg, I appreciate your aversion to Western medicine and anything that smacks of the manufactured pharmaceutical, but this isn't the time to try out some native cure," Jim objected.
"Please, Jim... he can help..."
"What about it?" Jim asked Heller.
"He's probably talking about Joseph," the Sheriff answered.
"The old man I met earlier?" The image of intense brown eyes flashed through the Sentinel's mind.
"Yes. He's one of the Tribal Elders, but he also doubles as their doctor..."
"But?" Jim pressed, noting the hesitation in the man's voice.
"Jim... I don't... want to... go back... to that town... too much... negative... energy there, man..."
The rough, pleading whisper tore at the Sentinel's heart. "Is Joseph capable of dealing with this injury or not, Sheriff?" Jim demanded impatiently.
"Yes, he can. And the reservation is closer. Let's get him into the car," Heller answered abruptly, all trace of uncertainly gone in the blink of an eye.
With the Sheriff's help they got Blair positioned sideways in the back seat. Jim slid in next to him, pulling his partner closer so he could support the younger man with his own body. Moments later they were on the move. Wrapping one long arm around Blair's slim shoulders, the Sentinel felt his Guide's weight settle against him trustingly.
"Thanks, man..."
"Don't think this means you're going to get around me every time, Sandburg," Jim muttered, hugging the younger man closer.
"Don't... worry... I know... who's in charge... of this... partnership..."
Yeah, I bet you do, Chief. I bet you do.
The Sentinel felt every bump and jolt of the 45 minute trip back to the main road. He knew his Guide felt them, too. When he sensed the contact of rubber against blacktop, he gave Blair a gentle squeeze. "Just a little while longer, Chief," he whispered across the top of the curly head that rested under his chin.
There was no response from the younger man. Blair's fever had spiked again and he'd lost consciousness several miles back. All Jim could do now was hold him and wait. But that didn't mean that he would wait patiently. Or silently. Keeping up a soft thread of reassuring words, the Sentinel closed his eyes and focused on the weakening life signs of his Guide, tightening his hold as if by touch alone he could will his own strength into the failing body.
Heller caught the faint one-sided conversation and glanced up into the rear-view mirror, studying his passengers. There was more than just comfort in the grip that Ellison maintained on the younger man. There was a fierce protectiveness. Dave recalled the comments their captain had made and shook his head. No one in their right mind would attempt coming between the detective and his partner. Curiously, Heller got the sense that the reverse would be true as well.
Flipping on the cruiser's lights, the Sheriff pushed the pedal to the floor. One hand gripping the wheel tightly to keep the racing car in control, Dave grabbed the handset for the radio and contacted his office. He still had search teams that had to be notified. Molly would coordinate the retrieval of Bob's body and that of his son's. He'd fill her in on the younger man's condition and have Doc Myers get in touch with the reservation. Time was of the essence now and they still had a long drive ahead of them. At least he could set things in motion before their arrival.
Jim was sweating in response to the heat pouring off his partner. Holding the younger man was like gripping a live coal. Blair was fading in and out, his body shaking with stress and exhaustion. And pain.
"How much farther?" Jim asked the Sheriff, catching the man's gaze in the mirror.
"About ten more minutes. We're already on Reservation property."
"Jim..." Blair's whisper pulled the Sentinel's attention back to the younger man immediately.
"What is it, Chief?"
"You have to... promise me..."
"Promise you what"
"To stay... safe..."
The odd tone of his Guide's voice made the Sentinel stiffen in fear. He forced a lightness that he didn't feel into his answer. "Hey, watching my back is your job, buddy."
Blair's hands came up, clutching Jim's arm with surprising strength. "Promise me... if something happens --"
"Blair, nothing's going to --"
"Promise..."
"All right. I'll make a deal with you. You promise me that you're going to keep fighting and I'll promise to stay safe."
"Jim --"
"Take it or leave it, Chief," Jim said firmly.
He waited for an answer, but there was nothing beyond the unhealthy rasp of his Guide's uneven breathing. Alarmed, the Sentinel shook the younger man sharply. "Blair? Damn it, Sandburg, answer me."
"Don't leave the road, Jim," came Blair's delirious whisper.
"Heller, we need to make time now!" Jim called out frantically.
The Sentinel felt the surge as the car accelerated. Pulling his Guide even closer, he whispered fiercely into the younger man's ear. "Answer or not, I'm holding you to our deal, Chief."
Focused on his Guide's every breath and heartbeat, the Sentinel never felt the car slide to a stop, didn't register on the urgent cries that filled the air around them. It was only a sudden awareness of hands trying to pull the younger man from his grasp that brought him back to reality.
He struggled against them, gripping Blair even tighter until a sun-browned hand clasped his arm. Looking up into vaguely familiar dark eyes that promised help and begged for trust, Jim abruptly released his hold. Other hands pulled his Guide from him, easing the younger man out of the car.
Jim fumbled with the door handle and climbed out shakily. A firm hand on his arm caught and held him. Angrily, he spun toward the obstacle that was keeping him from his Guide, and met Dave Heller's worried stare.
"Take it easy, Detective. You've had a busy day yourself," the Sheriff murmured.
Jim shirked out of the older man's grip and took a quick glance in the direction that the men had taken his partner. The nearest building was a modest, wood and stucco house that blended seamlessly into the natural surroundings. Bunches of drying herbs hung from the wooden rafters of the covered porch. It looked like what it was -- a home, not a medical facility.
"You said they could help him!" The Sentinel hissed, dismayed at the sight before him. Why had he agreed to this? Blair needed a hospital and doctors, not some mystical herbal cure.
"They can," Heller responded. The Sheriff's gaze shifted beyond Jim and he spoke rapidly in a language that the Sentinel didn't understand. Ellison turned
and found Joseph at his side.
"What did he say?" the Sentinel demanded.
"He apologizes for you," Joseph answered. "Come. We will see to your companion's needs, and then your own." With a nod to Heller, he added, "All will be well, Sheriff. Thank you for bringing him so quickly."
Dazed, Jim glanced at Heller who gave him a reassuring pat on the arm and a gentle shove. "Go on. Your partner needs you."
With his own head pounding and the exhaustion that he'd been holding back for so long finally claiming it's due, Jim stumbled toward the house. Joseph had already disappeared inside.
Stepping into the dwelling, he felt some of the fatigue drop away. The air was cool and rich with moisture that refreshed his parched skin. Warm smells of home, hearth and earth filled his nostrils. He breathed deeply, absorbing their healing properties. A soft sound made him aware of a young Native American man at his side. Roughly the same age as Blair, he had the same penetrating eyes as the elder Medicine Man.
"I'm Nate," the young man explained. "Grandfather is with Blair. I'll take you to him."
The Sentinel followed the younger man to the back of the house and stopped at the doorway to a large bedroom. Blair lay on the bed, his body draped in wet towels. To Jim's surprise, two IV bottles hung from a rack, feeding through long tubes already secured to his partner's arm. In contrast to the obviously 'Western' medicine, there was a strong odor of sage and other herbs permeating the room. The Sentinel fought to stifle a sneeze. Turning down his sense of smell he moved forward to stand at his partner's side.
"The fever is high, but the infection has not completely taken hold yet," Joseph said without glancing up. His hands were busy, moving rapidly to apply some kind of poultice to the wound.
Blair moaned and Jim reached out, placing his hand on the younger man's forehead and murmuring soft reassurances. After a moment, his Guide quieted. A touch on his arm guided Jim to a chair next to the bed and he sank into it gratefully. He encircled Blair's wrist with his own trembling fingers, listening intently to the throb of the anthropologist's heartbeat.