New
Arrivals
Author-Sorcha
Titles
Tug of War
by Sorcha
Warnings: May contain a spoiler or two for Remembrance.
As always, many thanks to Danae for being such a wonderful beta reader and helping me out title-wise (I think I'm title-y challenged <g>). Thanks to Eagle-Eye and Brenda for providing some much needed information. I'd also like to thank Brenda for her great patience during the many months since the auction took place. This story is dedicated to and written for Brenda. I hope you like it. =)
Please be gentle. This one didn't come easily for me.
Disclaimer: All the characters of The Sentinel belong to some other lucky people, not me. I made absolutely no money by writing this and there's no infringement intended.
Detective James Ellison and his partner were in the midst of enjoying a quiet evening at home, when the telephone rang, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere. With a small sigh, Jim dropped his newspaper and got up to answer the phone. "Hello?"
There was a small pause before the person on the other end of the line spoke. "Jimmy?"
"Dad?" Surprised, Jim turned to see Blair looking at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugged at the younger man and looked away as his father spoke again.
"How are you?"
"I -- I'm fine." Jim was still getting over the shock of hearing his dad's voice on the phone. "How about you?"
"Oh, I'm doing all right."
"Good. That's good."
There was a moment of awkward silence, which William Ellison finally broke. "The reason I'm calling... I've been thinking of selling the family cabin."
"The cabin," Jim echoed, not knowing what else to say.
"Yes. I know you're busy, but I was hoping you might have some time to head up there with me and help me clean the place out. You know, pack up anything that's been left there over the years, check the roof, things like that."
Jim could hear the caution in his dad's voice and knew that it wasn't easy for his father to ask this of him. Yet, his automatic reaction was to refuse. He had just opened his mouth to start talking his way out of the situation, when he felt Blair's presence at his side. Jim looked at his Guide, who spoke only with his eyes, his message clear and his influence effective. Jim found himself giving in. Closing his eyes briefly, he let out a sigh and spoke to his father again.
"Okay. I guess I have time this weekend. How about I pick you up at eight on Saturday morning?"
The older Ellison's relief was evident in his voice. "That would be great. Thanks, Jimmy. I really appreciate it."
"No problem," Jim said without enthusiasm, and the call came to an end. He hung up the phone and turned to his waiting friend.
"Well?" Blair prompted when Jim showed no signs of talking.
The detective walked past Sandburg and slumped onto the couch. "Well, I just agreed to go help my dad clear out the old family cabin this weekend."
"Hey, that's great, man!" Blair came over and sat on the arm of the couch.
"Great? It's not going to be great, Sandburg. It's going to be hell."
"Oh, come on, Jim. It won't be that bad. You and your dad have already come so far with your relationship. Why would you want to put an end to it all now?"
"I'm not putting an end to it. I just... Well, it won't be fun."
"You're right, it won't be fun if you spend the whole time being miserable," Blair agreed.
Jim rolled his eyes. "Sandburg, spare me the lecture, please."
"All right, all right." Blair raised his hands in submission.
Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "Family cabin, he called it." He made a small sound of disgust. "We rarely went up there. Stephen and I had to compete for the chance to go there with Dad the few times we did go. I don't ever remember going up there as a family." Jim shook his head and moved to get up, but was stopped by Blair's hand on his arm.
"Jim, I know you don't like the idea, but I really think it will be good for you guys. A couple days up there by yourselves to work some things out --"
"By ourselves?" Jim interrupted. "Uh-uh, Chief, you've got that part wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"You're coming too."
"I am?"
"Yep," Jim replied with certainty. He stood up and started to walk away, trying to give the conversation some finality.
Sandburg got up and followed his roommate into the kitchen. "Do you really think that's a good idea, Jim?" he asked, sounding unsure.
"Chief, if you don't go, I don't go. It's as simple as that," the detective stated as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He held out the pot in offering, and poured another cup when Blair nodded his head in answer.
Sandburg took a cautious first sip of his drink while watching Jim settle on the couch again. Seeing that his Sentinel had no intention of discussing the matter any further, Blair picked up his glasses and a book from the kitchen table and made himself comfortable in the arm chair. "Saturday morning, huh?"
"Yep," Jim replied, without looking up from the newspaper he had gone back to reading.
"I can do Saturday morning," Blair said to no one in particular as he slipped on his glasses and opened his book. He just hoped that he wouldn't have to spend the whole weekend playing referee.
At two minutes until eight on Saturday morning, Jim pulled his pick-up to a stop outside the Ellison house and climbed out of the vehicle. Zipping up his jacket against the rain that was beginning to fall, he leaned back through the door. "This should just take a minute."
Before Blair could say anything, the door was slammed shut and his partner was jogging up the path to the house. Sandburg couldn't help but have some misgivings about the trip that lay ahead. Already that morning Jim had been in a gruff mood, quiet and unwilling to participate in any sort of conversation. Blair knew that his friend's mood wouldn't be improving anytime soon, and so knew it would be probably be up to him to break any uncomfortable silences that occurred during the two hour car ride.
The two Ellisons emerged from the house, Jim carrying his father's suitcase, and came over to the truck. The detective went around to the bed of the pick-up to put the luggage under the tarp with the rest of the supplies while the older Ellison walked over to the passenger side.
Blair scooted over to the middle of the bench seat and turned as the door to his right opened. "Hi," he offered, as the older man began to climb into the cab of the truck. It was clear from the startled look on William Ellison's face that he hadn't been expecting anyone else to be in the truck. Great, Jim. You didn't even bother to tell him that I was coming along, Blair thought, although he wasn't really surprised by Jim's behaviour. Already having an awkward silence to break, the young man stuck out his hand. "Blair Sandburg."
The other man gave the hand a quick shake and climbed the rest of the way into the truck. "William Ellison. You're the one from..."
"From the park," Blair finished for him. "Yeah, that's me."
To both men's relief, Jim then opened the driver's side door and slipped behind the steering wheel. Without a word, he started up the engine and pulled the truck out into the street.
Sandburg's relief quickly died away as he realized that Jim wasn't going to say a word. Blair glanced over at Ellison Sr., who looked back at him. The anthropologist gave the man a quick smile then turned to look over at Jim. Seeing the detective's tightly clenched jaw, Blair let out a small sigh. He decided to do what he did best.
"Hey, heading up into the mountains like this reminds me of the time when I went on an expedition with the university and..."
Listening to his Guide ward off awkwardness with his ramblings, Jim felt the muscles in his jaw relax slightly. The kid sure knows how to talk, he thought affectionately. The Sentinel was comforted by the young man at his side, and he felt sure that Blair's presence was the only thing that would allow him to survive the weekend.
Nearly two hours later, Blair had only managed to get a total of five words out of both of the other men in the truck. The anthropologist was getting rather hoarse and was dying for a drink of water, but he didn't dare to stop talking for long. Oh, man, Jim. You are gonna get it for this, Blair thought as he rambled on. He sent a not-so-subtle glare in the direction of his partner, who was totally oblivious, his eyes fixed on the mountain road. Bringing me along so you don't have to worry about talking to your father... Leaving everything to me... You're not going to get away with it *that* easily, James Ellison. Blair wasn't really angry with his friend, but he didn't exactly appreciate the position he was in either. However, he continued on with his story. "And before they headed out on a hunt, they would perform this amazing ritual where --"
"Dad," Jim cut in, putting an abrupt end to Blair's narration. "You'll have to remind me which turn off it is."
"Sure. It's just up ahead."
Blair sat back gratefully, giving his vocal cords a much deserved rest. He noticed that neither father nor son said any more than what was absolutely necessary to get them onto the correct road and after making the turn off, the interior of the truck fell quiet again.
They bumped along a dirt road for a short while and then crossed over a small wooden bridge which spanned a creek about fifteen feet in width. The dirt road continued, winding its way up a hill and through the trees. Enjoying the scenery, Blair turned to his friend's father and asked, "So, do you come up here often?" Immediately, he realized what a stupid question that was. From the way Jim had talked before and from Blair's first impression of the man, William Ellison was not the type of person who would spend his weekends heading up into the mountains. In fact, Blair was surprised that the man even owned a cabin.
William shook his head in reply. "I haven't been up here in about fifteen years. Maybe more."
Jim surprised Blair then by entering into the conversation. "So, Dad, do you have any idea what kind of shape this place will be in? If it's been empty all this time..."
"Oh, no, it's been occupied."
Jim raised his eyebrows. "It has?"
"Yes, an old neighbour has been living there for a long time. I don't know if you remember him... Frank Mayfield?" He saw his son shake his head before he continued. "Well, it was your grandfather's cabin before he died and when I knew that I wouldn't be using it much anymore, I offered to let Frank rent it. I knew he'd been wanting to move somewhere remote and it turned out to be just what he was looking for. But he passed away just last month so now I'll be selling the place. Frank's son was up here last weekend, clearing out his father's things," William continued. "But there are a few things of ours that were never cleaned out before."
A small cabin came into view up ahead and Jim steered the truck off the road and came to a stop not far from the front porch. The detective took the keys from the ignition and put them in his pocket, then opened the door and climbed out of the truck without a word. The other two followed suit, Blair sliding along the seat to go out the same door that Jim had.
The Sentinel paused on the front porch, looking down at the boards and testing some of them with one foot, utilizing his heightened senses. His father passed by him, unlocking the front door and going inside. When Sandburg reached the porch, Jim stopped his inspection and led the way into the cabin.
William was standing in the middle of the small area which doubled as a kitchen and living room, looking around him. "This place sure brings back memories, doesn't it, Jimmy?"
"Does it?" Jim's voice was flat and he continued on through the living room without looking at his father.
Blair turned his eyes from Jim's retreating back to the older Ellison.
William glanced at him and Sandburg gave a small shrug, but when the older man turned away, Blair went after Jim. The room that Sandburg followed his friend into was a small bedroom with two single beds along opposite walls. There was a small closet and one window. Every surface was covered with a thick layer of dust.
As soon as Blair entered the room, his Sentinel sneezed loudly. The first sneeze was followed by another, and another.
"Chief..." Jim managed to get out before his nose interrupted. He didn't bother trying to talk anymore. Instead he rushed from the room, not stopping until he was outside in the fresh air.
Blair was right behind him and sat down beside Jim on the stair leading up to the porch. "Are you okay, Jim?" he asked of his friend, who was still wiggling his nose as if it tickled.
"Yeah, I'll be fine. It's just all that dust. I won't be able to stay in that room for one minute, let alone sleep in there. Mr. Mayfield must not have used that room much... there's a helluva lot of dust in there."
"Why don't I give it a good cleaning and airing?" Blair suggested. "It needs to be cleaned out anyway, doesn't it?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Meanwhile, I'm going to see what I can do with this porch. Some of the boards are rotting and need to be replaced."
Their first chores decided upon, the two men retrieved supplies from the truck and started to work. The rain had stopped for the moment so Jim was anxious to get the porch work done as quickly as possible in case the weather decided not to hold. Blair found a broom inside the cabin door and started to clean the small room after opening the one window as far as it would go.
It took two hours of scrubbing and sweeping before Sandburg thought that the room was clean enough to allow his Sentinel to sleep comfortably. Leaving the window open so the room could continue to air out, Blair propped the broom up against the wall and wandered out into the living area. Jim's dad was there, standing by a table in one corner of the room and holding a large object. Blair moved a few steps closer until he could see what the object was. "Oh, wow." Sandburg took a couple more steps which placed him beside the other man. "What is that? A deer skull?"
"Yes," William replied rather flatly. "Jimmy found it out in the woods when he was seven." He wasn't about to offer anymore information.
Sandburg noticed that William looked a bit distracted and guessed that the man was thinking about his son. He tried to offer some encouragement. "You know... Jim... he just needs some time."
There was a slight pause, then Mr. Ellison placed the skull back on the table and turned away. He headed back into his bedroom without a word to Blair.
Sandburg watched the man leave, wondering if he should have kept his mouth shut. Blair felt quite sure that William Ellison was not very impressed with him, but he didn't think that he had done anything to warrant such an attitude. He decided that the man was probably under a lot of stress this weekend, as was Jim, so Blair took one last look at the skull and went outside to find his friend.
"Hey, Jim," Sandburg greeted as he came out onto the porch.
"Hey, yourself, Chief." Jim was standing on the ground beside the porch, getting ready to saw a board that was lying near Blair's feet. "How about putting your foot on this thing and holding it steady for me?" The detective tapped the board and picked up his handsaw.
Blair complied and, as Jim started to saw, asked, "So how's it going?"
"Not bad," Jim answered while sawing. "A lot of the boards are rotten but I found some good wood in one of the back sheds and I've almost replaced all the bad parts."
"That's great, man."
"How'd the cleaning go?"
Blair moved his foot off the board as his partner put down the saw. While Jim put the board in place and reached for nails and his hammer, Sandburg replied, "Well, I *hope* it's clean enough. It's still airing out so, if we're lucky, you shouldn't be hit with another sneezing fit when you go back in there."
"I'm sure it's clean, Chief. Thanks." Jim pounded a nail with the hammer.
"No problem." Blair watched his friend drive in another nail. "Is there anything else I can do?"
"Well, Chief, I think we deserve some lunch. What do you think?" Jim looked up at his friend with a smile on his face.
"I'm with you, man," Blair agreed enthusiastically, patting his stomach.
The detective chuckled and hammered in the last nail. He put the tool down and stretched. "There are sandwiches in the cooler so we don't have to make anything."
"Great!" Sandburg bounded off the porch and over to the truck, returning almost immediately with the cooler.
Smiling, Ellison followed his friend inside and over to the kitchen table where the younger man instantly began emptying the cooler's contents. "Dad," Jim called. "There's lunch here, if you want some."
"Thanks, that sounds great." William appeared in the kitchen.
Blair handed out sandwiches and drinks and they all sat down to eat. During the meal, Sandburg once again provided tension-covering chatter. He covered a couple anthropological topics, but mostly he talked of nothing in particular. He knew that if he were to pause for too long, the tense atmosphere would become unbearable. So Blair talked and talked until the meal was over.
Having finished eating, Jim sat back and considered his young friend, noticing that he had been talking so much that he was only halfway through his lunch. The Sentinel also noticed that there was an almost frantic side to Sandburg's monologue. Jim shifted in his chair as he felt a disagreeable sensation in the pit of his stomach, which he knew was guilt. It wasn't fair of him to put Blair through this, to leave him the burden of warding off the discomfort that would surely come with a ceasing of the young man's chatter. The detective knew that he had let the same thing happen during the whole trip up to the cabin, while he had been feeling sorry for himself and wishing that he could have been anywhere else but in the truck heading up to his father's cabin. It's not like this weekend is a nice holiday for Sandburg either, he thought. Silently reprimanding himself, Jim made up his mind to try and be a bit more cheerful this weekend. At least when he was around Blair. As his Guide paused to take a breath, Jim tapped his arm lightly. "Chief."
Blair stopped the next stream of words that was about to pour from his mouth and looked at his friend. "Yeah, Jim?"
"Eat," the detective commanded his partner, grinning and pointing at the half eaten sandwich on Sandburg's plate.
Blair looked down at the food. "Oh. Right."
Jim picked up his dishes and took them over to the sink where his father was running water and getting out the dish soap. "Here, Dad, let me help you with that."
Blair watched the other two men from his place at the table. He was amazed at the way Jim made conversation with his dad. It was only for about five minutes, but those minutes passed easily and without strain as the son asked his father about Sally and some people that Jim hadn't seen since before he joined the army. Sandburg wondered why his friend wasn't able to talk to his father like that more often but then decided that, despite Jim's relaxed appearance, it was probably a struggle for the detective. Blair finished up the last of his lunch and stood up with his plate.
Turning from the sink, Jim took the dish from his partner. "I'll take care of that, Chief."
"Thanks, Jim."
It only took a minute for the last dish to be washed, rinsed, and dried. As William put the plates away in the cupboard, Jim dried his hands and turned to Blair. "Well, I'm going to go and finish up the porch before the rain starts again. How about giving me a hand, Chief?"
"Sure," Blair replied readily, and followed Jim outside.
Throughout the rest of the day, Blair made two more attempts to start a conversation with William, but was unsuccessful both times. After the last failed attempt, which took place late in the evening, Sandburg wandered outside to where Jim was standing, watching the rain which was now pouring down.
Ellison knew how his partner had been trying to talk to William, to get a response out of him. He also knew that none of Blair efforts had worked. The Sentinel was really feeling bad for his Guide so when the young man appeared beside him, Jim put his hands on Sandburg's shoulders and pulled him over so that he was standing with his back to Jim's chest. Then the detective folded his arms across the smaller man's chest and rested his chin on top of the curly head. "I'm sorry about all this, Chief."
"Don't be sorry, Jim. It's okay." Blair reached up and squeezed one of Ellison's hands.
Jim shook his head, but said nothing more. He just stood there quietly, holding his Guide, pulling him closer when the young man started to shiver from the damp night air. They stayed that way until the wind started blowing the rain under the roof's overhang, driving them inside.
After taking his shoes off and putting them by the door, Blair straightened. "I'm going to do some reading," he said, motioning with his head to the bedroom that he was sharing with the detective.
"All right, Chief. Will you be warm enough?" Jim had taken his own shoes off and now took a seat on the couch.
"Yeah, I'll be fine with my sleeping bag," Sandburg assured him and left the room.
Jim sat back, stretching his arms out along the back of the couch, and stared into the small fire which was burning steadily in the fireplace. His father was sitting in an armchair nearby, a box set before him on the coffee table, but Jim said nothing to him.
A few minutes of silence passed before William reached into the box and pulled out a small toy car, the red paint chipped and scratched. "This was yours, wasn't it?" the man asked, in an attempt to start a conversation with his son.
Jim leaned forward and took the small car in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, turning it over in his hand, memories surfacing. "No, this was Stephen's." He handed the toy back to his father and sat back. He turned his eyes back to the fire.
"How is Stevie? Have you seen him lately?" William asked as he put the car back into the box, not giving up on the conversation yet.
"No, I haven't seen him for several months," Jim replied, not in the mood to cooperate with his father's efforts. He stood up. "It's getting late."
William checked his watch and stood up as well. "I think I'll head for bed now. But..." He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. "Jimmy, I know this isn't easy, but I'm really trying here. I just wish you could learn to forgive me."
"Forgive you?!" Jim asked in disbelief, his relatively calm mood dissolving in a flash. "I don't know how you can think it would be so easy. There are a lot of things that I'm not sure I can ever get past."
"I *don't* think it would be easy. I'm just asking you to try, that's all."
"Try? If you want *me* to try, how about *you* start treating Blair better."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the fact that you've been pretty much completely ignoring him the entire day. You look down your nose at him and treat him like dirt. And if you want the truth, nothing pisses me off more."
William's voice began to rise now too. "I'm not sure how you expect me to behave toward him. You didn't even bother to tell me that you were bringing anyone along. You just showed up at my house with this... this near stranger."
Jim's eyes turned to ice in an instant. He stepped closer to his father and pointed his finger at the older man. The Sentinel's voice was dangerously low with his next words. "Blair is anything but a stranger to me. In fact, if anyone is a stranger here, it's you. And I hope you realize that you've picked a sure-fire way to make me turn and walk away from you forever." The detective turned and walked from the room, the action stressing his last words. He heard his father call his name, but he ignored him. Jim stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him. He found himself facing his Guide, wide eyes looking up at him, and the Sentinel knew that Blair had heard everything. Immediately, his anger disappeared into the background, his expression softening. "Oh, Chief..." He sunk down onto his bed, patting the space on the mattress beside him to indicate that he wanted his partner to sit down too.
Blair sat next to his friend and spoke up before Jim had a chance. "Jim, I never wanted to get in the way of you and your dad making things better between you."
Jim shook his head and said firmly, "No, Chief. You're not in the way. It's my dad and his prejudices and the past..." Ellison put his face in his hands and sighed. "Maybe it's not even worth the effort. There are just too many bad memories, too many bad feelings that are just as strong as ever."
"I just didn't want you to be cut off from your family forever, Jim. I'm sorry I pushed."
"No, Chief, don't be sorry for anything. You wanted me to try and work things out with my father because you have a good heart and that's just the kind of person you are. I can't bring myself to forgive him, but don't blame yourself for anything, all right?" When Blair didn't answer right away, Jim asked, "Promise me?"
Finally, Sandburg nodded. "I promise, Jim."
"Good." Jim put his arm around Blair, pulling him slightly closer. "Besides, as long as you're around, I'm not without family."
Blair smiled, touched by Jim's words and affection. "And I'll be around for a good long while."
Jim smiled too. "Then we have nothing to worry about, do we?"
"No," Blair agreed. "Nothing to worry about."
Jim gave Sandburg's shoulder a pat. "Why don't you try and get some sleep now, Chief. We've had a busy day."
"Okay." Blair moved over to his own bed. Seeing Jim stand up, he asked, "What about you?"
"I'm just going to bring in some more wood for the morning fire."
"Do you want some help?"
Ellison paused by the door. "No, that's all right. I'll just be a few minutes."
"Okay." Blair crawled into his sleeping bag on top of the bed. "Good night, Jim."
"Good night, Chief." Jim turned off the light and left the room. In the living area, he quickly put on his shoes, then slipped out the front door, pulling it shut behind him.
The night was dark and wet, the rain coming down in torrents. Ellison had decided to make the quick trip to the shed without his jacket, but he soon regretted his decision. In the few seconds that it took him to jog from the cabin door to the wood shed, Jim got completely soaked, his short-sleeved t-shirt clinging to him uncomfortably. The water was pounding down on his head and he gratefully stepped into the small confines of the wood shed.
He gathered up an armful of firewood, reaching back further on the pile to grab a final piece or two. Just as his hand closed around the last piece that he was going to take, Jim felt something scurry onto his outstretched arm. Startled, he gave his arm a vigorous shake. He managed to dislodge the creature, but not before he felt a tiny prick on his arm. "Damn," he said aloud, drawing his arm back. However, he had turned his sense of touch down before venturing out into the pouring rain so he felt no more pain beyond the initial prick. Anxious to get back to the cabin, Jim added the piece of wood to his pile and ducked out of the shed.
Back inside the cabin, Jim nudged the door closed with his foot and dumped the wood on the floor by the wall. Leaving his shoes by the door, he headed into the bathroom, already pulling off his wet shirt. He took off the rest of his rain-soaked clothes, leaving on only his boxers, and hung them up to dry. He brushed his teeth, then headed to the bedroom.
Jim went into the room quietly, noting before he even arrived at the door that Blair was already sleeping. The Sentinel eased the door shut and slipped into his sleeping bag. With the hypnotic sounds of the pouring rain and Blair's deep, even breathing and heartbeat, it wasn't long before Jim drifted off to sleep himself.
Blair rolled over on his bed, the warm blanket of sleep that had covered him peeling away. He could feel that something was wrong, that he had woken for a reason. Slowly, he forced his eyes open, only to find himself staring at the wall. With a small groan, Sandburg rolled over again and pushed himself up on one elbow. He immediately saw what it was that had roused him from sleep. His friend was up, pacing up and down the small isle between the two beds, his left hand holding his right arm. "Jim?" Blair asked, his voice still sounding groggy although his mind was fully alert now. "What's wrong?" There was no response, no ceasing of the pacing, so Blair tried again, sitting all the way up now. "Jim?"
This time the detective stopped and sat down on his bed, still holding his right arm. "It's my arm," he said quietly, in a voice that betrayed the pain he was feeling.
Blair picked up on his friend's tone of voice right away and didn't waste any time in moving over to sit beside him on the other bed. "What about your arm?" he encouraged gently.
Jaw tight and teeth clenched, Jim gave a small shake of his head before answering, as if it was hard to think through the pain. "Something bit me earlier when I was getting wood from the shed and now my arm hurts like hell."
Blair's eyes widened. "Jim, something bit you and you didn't bother to tell me?! Don't you realize that with your senses --" Sandburg cut himself off when he noticed the look on Jim's face, knowing that the last thing that Ellison needed at that moment was a lecture. The older man was wincing and almost seemed to be leaning away from Blair. Sandburg put a gentle hand on his partner's shoulder. "Jim?"
"I'm having trouble controlling my senses," Jim said quietly, his eyes closed. "Everything sounds so loud and my skin hurts. And the pain in my arm..."
Blair's heart ached to see his Sentinel in so much pain. He almost took his hand from Jim's shoulder, thinking that it must be hurting his friend, but then decided to leave it there. It was important to keep Jim anchored. "You can turn it all down. Just concentrate."
Ellison shook his head. "I can't."
"Yes, you can, Jim," Blair countered firmly. "Just do your breathing and concentrate. I know you can do it."
The Sentinel complied under his Guide's firm tone and they sat quietly for a few minutes while Jim focussed on turning down the dial. It took a bit longer than it had on other occasions, but he eventually opened his eyes, his jaw more loose and relaxed than it had been minutes before.
"Better?" Sandburg asked, his voice still gentle.
Jim nodded. "Yeah, but my arm still hurts."
"I'm gonna need to turn on the light, Jim." Blair started to get up.
The detective grabbed his partner's arm. "No light."
Sandburg sat down again. "Jim, I need to take a look at your arm and I can't see in the dark like you do." When the older man was silent, Blair continued. "You have control of the dial. You'll be fine. Okay?"
The was another slight pause, but then Jim spoke. "Okay."
Blair let out a sigh of relief. "Okay," he repeated. He stood up so he could reach the light switch on the wall by the door. "Ready?" When Jim nodded and closed his eyes, Blair turned it on. The room now flooded with light, Sandburg sat down again.
Jim slowly started to open his eyes, blinking several times. Soon, he was able to adjust his vision and he began to breath more easily.
"That's it," Blair encouraged. "See? You're doing just fine, buddy. In fact, you're doing great." He gently took Jim's right arm in one hand, placing the other hand over Jim's left one. "It's okay, man. Let me see." Jim let Blair lift his hand off the sore arm and the younger man inspected the source of his friend's pain. "Oh, man," he said after looking carefully at the arm for a moment. "Jim, this doesn't look too good."
For the first time, Jim took a good look at his injured arm. He saw the two red marks and the swelling and knew that Blair was right. It didn't look good.
"Please tell me that it doesn't look to you like what it looks like to me," Sandburg said in a worried voice.
"Looks like a spider bite to me." Jim managed to keep his voice flat, but his heart was beating faster.
Blair closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah, that's what it looks like to me too. Jim, this could be bad. We need to get you to a hospital."
"But with my senses going all crazy..."
"Jim, I can help you control your senses, but you need a doctor. Whatever type of spider it was that bit you, your body sure doesn't like what's happening and we can't know how bad it's going to get. We need to get you down the mountain as soon as possible." Blair moved across the room and pulled a pair of jeans out of his bag. As he pulled them on, he said, "I'll wake your dad and tell him what's happening. Then I should see if I can find the spider so we can take it to the hospital with us. It happened inside the shed, right?"
Jim nodded. "Yeah, it was near the back of the pile." He watched as his friend sat down on the opposite bed and pulled on a pair of socks. "Chief, you go ahead and have a look for the spider. I'll wake my dad."
"Are you sure, Jim? Maybe you should lie down or something."
"I'm okay. Just be careful, Chief. The last thing we need is for you to get bitten too."
"I'll be careful," Sandburg promised. He went out to the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards, looking for something he could use to trap the spider. As Jim passed by, on the way to his father's room, Blair stopped him. "Come here for a minute, Jim." He found a clean towel in a drawer and ran it under cold water for a moment. Then he squeezed out the excess water and folded it a couple times. He placed it on the wound and then put Jim's left hand on top of it. "Hold that there, okay?" Ellison obeyed and continued on to his dad's room, while Blair went back to rummaging. Finally, he found an empty jar with a lid that would serve the purpose. Not wanting to waste any more precious time, he grabbed his jacket and a flashlight and headed out to the woodshed.
As soon as he was out the door, Blair was chilled to the bone by the wet, penetrating cold of the night. The rain came down on him in a deluge but he was intent on his mission and didn't hesitate for a second. He hurried around to the side of the cabin where the woodshed was, just barely managing to stay on his feet when he slipped on the slick mud. Reaching the shed, Sandburg stepped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. The roar of the downpour immediately sounded more distant, no longer a barrage on his ears, but on the shed's roof instead.
Blair unscrewed the lid from the jar and held it in his left hand along with the flashlight, keeping the jar ready in his right hand. He flashed the beam of light around the tiny shed. He would have liked to use a stick to poke around with, to keep his hands safe, but settled for using the flashlight for that job. He stood up on tiptoe, trying to see as far back along the top of the wood pile as possible. Carefully, he started to shift the pieces of wood with the flashlight.
After several minutes with no luck, Sandburg was starting to believe that he was just wasting time. He was getting ready to give up when he flicked a piece of wood out of a dark corner and something scurried through the beam of light and back into the shadows. "Aha!" Blair exclaimed. He shone the light around, trying to find the object of his hunt. "Come out, come out, wherever you are." He held the open jar close to the flashlight's beam and when the critter appeared again, Blair swiped it up in one quick motion, slapping the lid on and twisting it down tightly.
He held up the jar and inspected his captive through the glass with the now dying beam of his flashlight. Sandburg didn't need the light to be any brighter to see the markings on the spider. A reddish hourglass shape decorated the black body, making Blair close his eyes briefly. It was a Black Widow.
The thought of Jim inside waiting for him, probably in even more pain than before, made Sandburg force himself back into action. Keeping a tight hold on the glass container, he braved the deluge once more to get back to the cabin.
Back inside, Blair placed the jar safely in the centre of the kitchen table. Not bothering to remove his shoes or dripping jacket before rushing toward the bedroom, Sandburg hoped that the Ellisons wouldn't mind the fact that he was tracking mud everywhere. In the other room, he found Jim sitting on the edge of his bed, head bowed and eyes closed. The Sentinel had managed to put on jeans, socks, and a t-shirt, but his sweater lay abandoned beside him on the bed. Blair picked up the piece of clothing and sat down where it had been. He put a hand on his friend's back. "Jim?"
Ellison opened his eyes and slowly turned his head to look at his Guide. "Did you find it?" he asked, referring to the spider.
"Yeah, I did," Blair replied. "It's a Black Widow."
Jim nodded, somehow not surprised. He tried to sit up straighter, wincing as he did so. "The pain is spreading. It goes all the way up my arm and into my back now. I turned the dial down again but..." He shook his head, saying without words that it was no use.
Blair gently rubbed Jim's back. "Okay, man. We're going to get you to a doctor."
"He knew all along, you know," Jim said.
"Who knew what?" Blair asked, confused.
"My Dad. He knew about my senses even when I was a little kid."
Sandburg was stunned but had to leave the subject for later. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay," he said, partly for Jim and partly for himself. He started sliding Jim's arms into the sleeves of the sweater. "Let's get this on you, okay? It's not exactly warm out there." The detective complied and Sandburg helped him to pull the sweater over his head.
Jim's father appeared in the doorway, fully dressed and ready to go.
"How are you doing, Jimmy?"
"I'm okay," the younger Ellison managed to reply as Blair helped him to stand up.
Feeling how Jim leaned on him slightly as they made their way out to the kitchen, Sandburg knew that the man was far from being okay. Once they reached the other room, he settled Jim into a chair and helped him into his shoes and jacket. You're gonna be okay though, Jim, Blair promised silently. You're going to be fine. However, he didn't feel as confident as his thoughts sounded and he desperately hoped that Jim wasn't paying attention to the slightly elevated rate of his heartbeat. With Jim's uninjured arm around Blair's supporting shoulders, the two men made their way to the truck with William close behind. The rain hadn't eased a bit and it ran in rivulets off Blair's curls and like tears down Jim's pain-creased face. Sandburg got Jim settled in the middle of the bench seat, then climbed behind the wheel and slammed the door shut against the storm. As soon as William had closed the other door behind him, Blair started up the engine and pulled the truck out into the muddy road.
They bumped along in the darkness, water beating against the windshield. Sandburg didn't dare go very fast, in fear of wandering off the road and ending up with an even bigger disaster on their hands. He glanced over at his friend, whose eyes were only half open. "You hanging in there, Jim?"
"Yeah, I'm doing okay. But, Chief, I think we should look into a safer holiday, you know? A week at a some four star hotel, or maybe a cruise."
Blair smiled at Jim's attempt to lighten the mood. "I don't know, man. With our luck the boat would probably sink. Or get captured by pirates."
"Our luck? I think it's *your* luck that gives us problems."
"Hey, you can't put it all off on me," Blair defended himself. "Most of it maybe, but not all of it." Jim chuckled, but the sound was weak and Sandburg became serious again, concentrating on the road ahead of them.
As they arrived at the place for the bridge should be, Blair stopped the truck. The sight before him filled him with despair. "Oh, no."
Jim opened his eyes fully to have a look at what his partner saw. "The bridge is washed out." He made the statement with a flat voice.
"What now?" William asked.
Blair was silent for a few seconds, then turned to Jim. "Do you have your cell phone?"
"Yeah, hold on." Ellison reached into his jacket pocket with his good arm and passed the phone to Blair.
Sandburg dialled Captain Banks' home phone number. As he waited through several rings, Blair imagined a grumpy Simon being awakened from sleep. This certainly wouldn't be scoring him any points with the captain.
Finally the phone was answered. "Hello?" The voice on the other end didn't sound too happy.
"Simon?" Blair had to yell because the reception was terrible, static cracking badly.
"Sandburg, is that you? What the hell is going on? I can hardly hear you." The captain's voice was barely distinguishable from the static.
"Simon, it's about Jim." More crackling made Blair pause before continuing. "Simon? He was bitten by a spider. We need to get him to a hospital but the bridge here is washed out. Simon?" Sandburg could no longer tell if Banks was even on the other end. "We're up at his dad's cabin," he yelled anyway, in case the other man could still hear him. "Simon?" The line went dead. "Damn." Blair threw the phone down on the seat.
"He couldn't hear you?" William asked.
"I don't know. The connection was so bad." Sandburg leaned forward and rested his head on the steering wheel. After a moment he sat back up and look over at his partner's father. "Is there any other way out of here?"
The man shook his head. "No." When Blair was silent, a defeated look on his face, he asked, "So what now?"
The young man sighed. "I guess we go back." He started the engine again, and looked over at Jim, who was slumped back into the seat. "Don't worry, Jim. Everything will turn out fine. I'll make sure of it."
"I know you will," the Sentinel said, his voice expressing his faith in his Guide.
Feeling somewhat doomed, yet determined to make his previous words into the truth, Blair turned the truck around and headed back up the road to the cabin.
Twenty minutes later they were safely back in the bedroom of the cottage. After quickly propping some pillows up against the headboard of the detective's bed, Blair gently eased Jim back to lean against them. The Sentinel's eyes flickered shut as Sandburg rested his hand on the older man's forehead, feeling the warmth of a fever. "You've got yourself a bit of a temperature, Jim. Let's see if we can do something about that." Blair gave Jim's left hand a gentle squeeze.
"I'll be right back." With a quick glance at William, Sandburg got up and left the room.
First, he headed into the bathroom to retrieve a clean washcloth, then he went back out to the kitchen. He found a plastic bowl to use as a basin and filled it with cool water. Then he filled the plastic cup with water with hopes of being able to get Jim to drink. After turning off the tap, Blair's eyes strayed to the window. If it weren't so dark out, he could go into the forest and looked for some plants or roots that he could use to treat some of his friend's symptoms. However, with the rainstorm still raging outside and the clouded night being as dark as it was, going out into the woods to search for anything would most likely be a waste of time. Blair pulled his eyes back from the window and gathered up his things. There was no time to stand around thinking. Jim needed him.
Back in the bedroom, William had taken over Blair's spot at Jim's side, and Sandburg was surprised to find that he felt a bit annoyed by this. Get a grip, he told himself as he leaned over to set the bowl and cup down on the floor. He is the man's father after all. He has every right to be there at his side. Straightening, Blair looked at his friend and stiffened. Something was wrong. "What happened?" He demanded of his friend's dad.
"Nothing happened," William answered, puzzled by the young man's sharp tone. "He's resting."
"No," Blair disagreed. "He's not resting. Something's wrong."
"What are you talking about?" William was beginning to sound annoyed.
Sandburg looked at Jim more closely. Had the Sentinel zoned? Blair was filled with an eerie feeling and he realized that it was that feeling that had alerted him to Jim's condition. The detective did look like he was sleeping, but Blair knew he wasn't. It was as if the Guide could sense that, although Jim's body was lying on the bed, the rest of him was no longer in the room. Along with the eeriness came an empty feeling, like he was being left behind, and that scared Blair more than anything. "Let me get close to him." When William didn't move to let Sandburg get near his son, the anthropologist pulled his eyes from Jim's face to look at the man who was in his way. "I need to get close to him," he tried again.
"Look, he's my son. I can take care of him." William felt sure now that it had been a mistake for his son to bring this kid along for the weekend. He didn't seem to be handling the stress of Jim's condition very well.
"I'm telling you, he's not sleeping." Blair's voice began to rise along with his fear level. The older Ellison still looked unconvinced so Blair tried a new angle. "Look, you know about Jim's gift, right?" Sandburg didn't need to wait for a reply, but in the brief moment before he continued, he read clearly on the man's face that he was surprised that Blair knew about it. "Well, things don't always run smoothly," Blair hurriedly explained, desperate to get through to William. "Sometimes he gets too focussed on one sense or they all go out of control. But the point is, sometimes he gets kinda... lost, and I'm the only one that knows how to bring him back. You've got to let me near him before he's too far gone and is lost forever."
Just as Blair started to think that he would have to physically get William out of the way, the older man finally seemed to realize how serious the situation was. Without another word, he stood up and stepped back from the bed, making way for Blair.
Sandburg was instantly at Jim side, one hand going to the side of the sick man's face and the other grasping his left hand. "Jim, can you hear me? Come on, man, it's time to come back. Just follow my voice. You know the drill."
There was no response. The Sentinel just continued to lie still with his eyes closed, disconnected from his surroundings. Disconnected from Blair.
Sandburg's anxiety level increased even further. Why wasn't Jim responding? "Jim, I know it's probably easier to be where you are right now, away from all the pain, but you need to come back. If you don't come back now, I might never be able to reach you again. Please, Jim, I need you here." He lifted his friend's hand up and held it to his neck, pressing the fingers to his carotid artery. If the Sentinel was unable to follow his Guide's voice, maybe he'd be able to ground himself with the feeling of Sandburg's pulse. Blair had to hope so. Please, Jim. As if in response to Blair's silent plea, the detective's eyes flickered and he came back to awareness with a small jerk and a shake of his head.
"Thank God," Blair whispered, letting out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding.
"Chief?" Ellison's voice was hoarse and tinged with confusion.
"You're okay, buddy," Sandburg assured him. "You really had me scared there for a while though. That was some zone."
"I don't think it was a zone," Jim said, trying to recall how he had felt only minutes before. "It was different... not like my other zone-outs."
"Different?" The Guide was all ears, intently focussed on his Sentinel.
"Yeah, different. It wasn't like I got too focussed on one sense. This time it was more as if all my senses were shutting off. Like I was retreating from them toward oblivion."
"That's understandable, Jim. What with all the pain you've been in and not being able to control your senses enough to keep the dial turned down, I can see why you would automatically start retreating. But I really need you to try and stay here with me, okay? You were pretty far gone that time."
"As long as you're here, I think I can manage to keep myself here."
"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. Not even for a minute." Blair mentally kicked himself.
Jim shook his head. "No, it's not your fault, Chief. You brought me back. I heard you talking to me and that stopped me from going further." Gently, he pressed his Guide's neck with the fingers of the hand that Blair was still holding there. "And then I felt your pulse and it led me back."
"Thank God for that," Sandburg said quietly. The thought if Jim retreating beyond reach, shutting himself off from the world for ever, scared Blair half to death. He reached down to get the cup of water from the floor. "Here," he said, taking Jim's hand from his neck and wrapping it around the cup. "Try and drink some. We don't want you to get dehydrated."
As the detective sipped at the water, William walked past the other two men and left the room, saying nothing. Jim and Blair had forgotten that the older man was in the room and were a bit startled by his action. Jim handed the half-emptied cup back to Blair. "What's up with him?"
"I might have offended him," Sandburg admitted, eyes down. "He wouldn't let me help you at first and I think I may have yelled at him."
"Don't worry about it, Chief." Jim gave his friend's knee a pat. "I'm sure you did what you had to do. He just doesn't understand."
"Yeah, well, I don't think it helped to raise his opinion of me any," Blair said, his eyes still downcast.
"Chief, listen to me." Ellison leaned forward, wincing as he did so. "He had no right to judge you like he did, but don't let it get to you. He doesn't know you and that's his loss."
Blair nodded, meeting his friend's eyes. As he did so, he noticed the lines of pain and fatigue that were creasing the older man's face. "Jim, you need to rest."
The Sentinel sank back into the pillows, exhausted. "Chief..." He trailed off, not comfortable with asking the question he needed answered. However, it wasn't necessary for him to finish his sentence.
"Don't worry, Jim. I'm not going anywhere.""
Ellison sighed, letting his eyes drift shut. Without looking, he found Blair's hand with his own and gave it a grateful squeeze.
Sandburg wrung out the washcloth and began sponging Jim's hot face. When the Sentinel had fallen asleep, Blair slid down to sit on the floor and rested his head on the mattress of Jim's bed. He was exhausted but he needed to stay awake so he could keep and eye on his friend. He wasn't going to chance a repeat of what had happened earlier.
Jim woke a few times during the following hours, sometimes able to fall back to sleep quickly, other times almost overwhelmed by pain. Blair never left the room, coaxing his friend to turn the dial down when the pain level rose too high and providing a steady stream of words so the Sentinel would have something positive to focus on.
At one time Ellison was sleeping somewhat peacefully so Blair moved over to sit more comfortably on the other bed. He leaned back against the wall, so tired that he couldn't sit up unsupported but knowing that if he were to lay down he would fall asleep without fail. He looked up, as surprised as he could be in his half-awake state, as William appeared in the doorway.
After a brief hesitation, the older man held out a steaming mug to the anthropologist. "I thought maybe you could use this."
Sandburg accepted the mug by reaching out and taking it, but he couldn't get his foggy brain to come up with anything to say. He looked down into the dark liquid and took a deep breath in through his nose. Ah, coffee. Just the aroma helped to spark his mind back into action again and he was finally able to make his tongue work. "Thank you. It's exactly what I've been needing."
William looked relieved, as if the coffee had not just been a drink, but something of a peace offering too. As Sandburg took grateful sips of the drink, Mr. Ellison spoke again. "I would offer to sit with him so you could get some rest but I know that would be useless."
Blair looked up, still not feeling good about how he had treated the man earlier, even if it had been out of necessity. "Look, about before, I didn't mean --"
"No, no," William cut him off. "It's okay. Really. I have to admit that it really got my hackles up at first, but I've had plenty of time to think it over and you were right to do what you did. It's just. . .well, he's my son. And I guess I wanted to believe that I could take care of him, that I would be enough. But I see now that it's not like that. He's grown up without me and that's nobody's fault but my own. He moved on and became his own man. He depends on himself and other people, not me. I can see that now and, even though it's hard, I think I can accept it. I know I've been a lousy father in the past but I'd like to think that it's not too late to make a change for the better, to prove to him that I've changed."
Blair just stared at him for moment, stunned partly by what his friend's father had just revealed, but mostly he was taken aback by the fact that William was speaking like this to *him*. A man that would barely acknowledge his presence hours before was now bearing his soul to him. Sandburg, still at a loss as to how he should respond the man before him, was about to start stuttering something when William broke the silence.
"How's he doing?"
Blair turned his eyes to his sleeping friend. "He's hanging in there. He's strong."
William nodded in agreement. "Yes. He always has been."
Jim stirred, the small movement capturing the attention of the other two men. The detective moved again, this time coming more fully awake, his eyes opening. "Blair?"
Sandburg set his mug down quickly and moved over to Jim's side. "Right here, buddy."
The Sentinel pushed himself up from the pillows a bit, looking as if he were listening to something. "Chief, listen."
"What is it, Jim?" Blair asked, not hearing anything.
Jim held up a hand to quiet his Guide. A few seconds later, the sound that the Sentinel had been listening to became audible to Blair and William. It was the sound of an approaching helicopter.
The detective's father went over to the bedroom's one window and pushed the curtain aside, revealing the pale light of a cloudy but rainless morning. "It's landing in the clearing out back," he informed the others.
Blair squeezed his friend's hand. "See, Jim. Everything is going to be all right. Simon must have heard me after all and had a rescue team sent out as soon as the weather cleared."
William went out to meet the rescuers, and when he had gone, Jim gripped Sandburg's hand. "Blair, you have to stay with me." His voice was desperate, almost panicky. "The chopper... it'll be too loud."
"Take it easy." Blair pushed him back into a reclining position. "I'll be with you the whole time. You'll be able to keep the dial down far enough."
Jim nodded and closed his eyes. However, they shot open again immediately as Captain Banks burst into the room.
"Jim! Are you all right?" He demanded of his best detective. Without waiting for a response, he turned to the younger man. "Sandburg, what's going on here?"
Blair opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted before he even started as two medics rushed in with a stretcher, followed by William. The small room was now crowded, full to its capacity. Sandburg stood up and tried again. "He was bitten by a Black Widow," he explained, working with one of the medics to help Ellison to his feet.
"How are you doing, Jim?" The captain asked, concerned about the difficulty with which Ellison was standing up.
"I'm okay," Jim managed to get out through clenched teeth before practically collapsing onto the stretcher.
Simon ignored the Sentinel's obviously untrue response, as did Blair, who offered a different reply. "He has a fever and he's in a lot of pain."
The medics had Jim describe the pain to them as they strapped him onto the stretcher. Meanwhile, Sandburg moved closer to the police captain and lowered his voice. "Simon, Jim's been having some trouble controlling his senses."
"How much trouble?" Banks asked, seeing the seriousness and worry in the young man's eyes.
"I almost lost him at one point." Blair swallowed, the unpleasant memory resurfacing. "He's worried about the noise of the chopper and so am I. He'll also need me with him at the hospital. Simon, I have stay with him."
Banks nodded, not doubting Sandburg's judgment on this. "There won't be enough room for everyone in the helicopter so you go ahead and I'll stay here with Mr. Ellison until the chopper comes back for us."
"Thanks, Simon," Blair said gratefully.
By now, the others were heading out of the cabin, so Banks and Sandburg followed suit, the anthropologist grabbing the jar containing the spider on his way out. Once outside, Blair jogged to catch up with the medics so he could walk alongside the stretcher. When everyone was inside the helicopter, the Guide took up a place as close to his Sentinel's side as possible.
Jim turned his head to look at his partner. "Chief, are you going to be okay?"
It took a moment for Sandburg to realize that Jim was referring to his fear of heights and dislike of helicopter rides. He marvelled over how, with all that he was going through himself, Jim was still concerned about Blair's well-being. The young man grinned at his friend. "I'll be fine, Jim. We'll both be fine."
Even though Blair knew that he would survive the ride back to the city, the familiar nervousness was beginning to rise within him. Jim must have known because he held out the hand of his uninjured arm and said, "Chief, hang on."
Sandburg gratefully took hold of the offered hand which then gave his own a firm squeeze. "Thanks, Jim."
"Hey," Ellison said, then waited for Blair to lean closer so he could hear him over the roar of the chopper which was starting up. "We'll help each other through."
"That's the way it works," Blair agreed with a smile that was then returned by his friend. Sandburg sat back, comforted by Jim's hand holding his, and knowing that he was comforting the Sentinel in the same way.
Jim opened his eyes and smiled as Sandburg entered the hospital room that the detective had been in for the past twenty-four hours. Blair was looking better, rested and refreshed, and Jim was glad that Simon had been able to convince the kid to spend the last night at home in his own bed. "Morning, Chief," he greeted his friend warmly.
"Morning, Jim. How are you feeling today?"
"Better than yesterday. Quite a bit better."
"That's great, man. Any problems during the night?" Blair asked, worried that he hadn't been there when his partner needed him.
"No, Chief, no problems. I slept almost straight through." Jim knew what Sandburg was thinking.
"Good." Blair was relieved.
"My dad was here just a while ago," Ellison said, watching as his friend pulled up a chair.
"Yeah? How'd it go?"
Jim shrugged. "It was okay. He didn't stay very long. But he did say that he was wrong about you." He saw Blair's eyes go down in discomfort, studying the blanket. The Sentinel reached out and tousled his Guide's hair. "And I told him he was damned right about that."
Blair met Jim's eyes and grinned. "Oh, hey." He remembered something that he wanted to tell Jim. "Good news. The bridge should be fixed in the next couple of days and Simon's offered to drive us back up next weekend so we can get your truck and everything else we left behind."
"That is good news," agreed Jim, who didn't like the idea of being without his truck for long. "But we never really finished what we went up there to do. I only got the porch fixed... I still need to check the roof and a few other things."
"Don't worry about that now, Jim. There'll be plenty of time for all that later. Right now you need to rest."
"Are you staying for while?" Jim asked, his casual tone camouflaging the hope in the question.
"You bet."
With a smile, Jim settled back into the bed as Blair inched his chair closer. Everything was as it should be, Sentinel and Guide were safe and together. All other worries and troubles could wait to be dealt with on some other day.
The End