Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.
Thanks to all my fab betas: Morr, Jenn, Hawthorn and Trish, and thanks to Teresa for her great ideas.
No episode spoilage. None, nada, zip. All right, I lied. Talks about Brackett, and other stuff. Not episode based, though. Well, maybe it is. I'll have to see how it turns out. Damn, okay, there's stuff about Sentinel Too, Parts 1&2. A lot of stuff. Sort of ignores everything that happened after that in season 4.
NOTES/WARNINGS: Mystical guide/sentinel stuff. If you hate that kind of thing, run away. There are also threats of non-consensual sex but nothing happens.

A Gathering of Sentinels

It happened so quickly, Blair didn't even have time to be afraid until he found himself in a dark limousine sitting across from two men. One was a huge honking guy pointing a gun at his head. The second man was in an expensive suit smiling at him in a way that made Blair's skin crawl.

"Mr. Sandburg, I presume?"

Blair ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Shouldn't you have made sure of that before you had your gorilla grab me?" He sincerely hoped that being a wise ass wouldn't get him killed. "What, ah, what's this all about anyway?"

"I need an expert on Sentinels and I think you're the man for the job."

Blair felt his heart skip a beat and then it started to jackhammer. He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about." From the look on the man's face, Blair guessed he didn't sound very convincing. He tried again. "Come on, man, let me go. You've got the wrong guy."

The man picked up a thick file next to him and handed it to Blair. "I disagree."

Blair didn't really want to open the file because if he did, and it was filled with the stuff he was afraid it was filled with, it would mean that he was in some serious shit.

"Open it." It wasn't a request.

Blair ran another hand through his hair and then, eyes squinting and body leaning away from the file as if it might contain something explosive, he opened it up. A picture on the top of the papers inside alone told him that, indeed, he was in big trouble.

Brackett. Lee Brackett. The former CIA agent who had blackmailed Jim into helping him steal an Air Force reconnaissance plane. Unsuccessfully, but it had come pretty damn close. He tapped the page, hoping the man couldn't see how much he was shaking. "Am I supposed to know this guy?" Blair dissembled.

"Mr. Sandburg. Let's stop the game playing. I know who you are. I have all the information Brackett had and more. My team has been debriefing him for a year and I know everything Ellison did for him, and how it was you who enabled him to do it. Brackett had the right idea. You hold the power as the Guide. Ellison would be nothing without you."

Blair began to sift through the papers and his heart sank. There was no point in trying to plead ignorance. His paper from college was in here, Jim's medical records, both from the Army and from Cascade General, all of Brackett's surveillance notes regarding him and Jim, including transcriptions from a couple conversations where Blair was talking Jim through the use of his senses. "Fuck."

Blair let the file fall in his lap and his head dropped against the head rest. In a second, his naivete was swept away. How presumptuous he'd been, thinking they were keeping this a secret. Especially after Brackett. Fingers of fear crept down his spine. "Where's Jim?" Blair couldn't stand the thought that they'd gotten him, too. That he was going to be put in a lab somewhere and dissected.

The man waved a dismissive hand in the air. "I don't need him. I only need you, Mr. Sandburg."

Blair scrunched his face up. "I don't get it. Why me? What good am I by myself?"

The man tsked at him. "You underestimate yourself, young man. Too long resting in Ellison's shadow, I don't doubt. Too long being dismissed by him and his ilk. Their loss that they couldn't appreciate what they had."

Blair didn't want to feel complimented but he had to admit he did. Sort of. In a creepy kind of way. In a snarky vindicated kind of way that made him feel like he was betraying Jim. But the guy had a point. Blair often felt like he did a lot of work and got little or no recognition for it.

He ran two hands through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to find a calm center somewhere in the midst of his chaotic thoughts. A part of him insisted on defending Jim; he couldn't help being the way he was. Blair hoped that was the case, anyway. A vision of Jim kissing Alex on the beach shot through his mind and he winced. No matter how much meditation he did, Blair couldn't seem to exorcise that moment.

Picking through the morass of emotions tearing through him, Blair settled on confused. "I still don't get it. Why me? What do you want with me? I can't be much of a Guide without a Sentinel." He frowned at Muscle-man. "And what's with him? Excuse me if I don't have happy fuzzy feelings about this when he's pointing a gun at me."

The man smiled that creepy smile again and Blair wished he could move farther away. "I have Sentinels."

Blair's jaw dropped. "What?"

"I have Sentinels. Sentinels, my dear boy, are a dime a dozen, if you have the money and the manpower to look for them."

Blair couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought of the years he'd been looking, the time and money and favors it had taken to search before he'd found Jim. "I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. Sentinels who don't have Guides don't do well. They tend to become recluses, hiding themselves away. Or they go insane, lost in their minds, quivering in the corner of a dayroom in some mental institution." A look of disdain crossed the man's face. "Some of them turn to crime, but they don't last long, and they usually end up dead." There was a significant pause. "Or worse."

Blair looked sharply at the man, wondering what else he knew. Who else he knew.

The man continued. "You might have talked a pretty young nurse into faxing you medical records from Cascade General, but it was merely coincidence that Jim Ellison ended up there. One chance in a million."

Blair felt like he was in the Outer Limits. This guy knew everything about him, stuff he couldn't possibly know. He focused back in on the important thing. "You have Sentinels?" The thought of any Sentinel in the hands of this guy was unsettling. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Mr. Smith. That's all you need to know." He took a quick look out the window. "We'll be taking a short plane ride."

Blair put up his hands in an effort to stop everything. "Whoa. This is crazy. What do you want with me?"

"Oh, I would think that would be clear by now. As I said, Sentinels are a fairly common breed. It's Guides that are in short supply. And Guides like you are even rarer."

Blair loathed that small part of him that preened at the man's words. He blew out a breath of frustration. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Language, language, Mr. Sandburg. Cursing is a sign of an uneducated mind, which you certainly do not have."

"Stop. Just stop. I don't understand." Blair needed a chance to regroup. Things were moving too fast.

"You'll soon see for yourself and everything will be made clear. At least your part in it."

The limousine pulled into a small, private airfield and after a few seconds, the door was opened and the driver, holding another gun, waited patiently for Blair and the two men to exit the vehicle.

Blair had a crazy thought that maybe he should make a run for it, but he quickly discarded the idea. Muscle-man was taking his job seriously. Besides, Blair was reasonably certain Mr. Smith, or whatever the hell his name was, wanted him alive, so whatever this was, as bad as it might be, it wouldn't end up with him dead. At least Blair hoped that was the case.

He saw a small airplane sitting on the tarmac, and wondered how Jim would find him. Wondered if Jim had even noticed he was missing. They hadn't exactly been getting along like a house on fire since the whole Alex thing. They weren't talking much, let alone spending their free time together.

Jim would no doubt assume Blair was shacking up with someone, shake his head in disgust at his table-leg-humping roommate, and dismiss him from his mind.

Blair bit back a merciless laugh. There'd been no table-leg-humping going on for a long time. Blair had been too busy thinking about humping his Sentinel. Or he had been until Alex. That whole thing had completely short-circuited him. Even though he was the one who'd come up with all the Sentinel excuses for Jim, even though he was the one who'd helped Jim work his way through whatever insanity had possessed him, it had still felt like the keenest of betrayals.

It wasn't just because she had killed him, although that was a biggie. The part that hurt the most was something Blair didn't have the right to feel. Jealousy--a vicious green-eyed monster that nibbled at his self-esteem every night. He was jealous, and heartsick, that Jim had chosen someone like Alex, over him. That despite whatever rationalizations Blair could come up with, Jim always chose someone like Alex over him. Blair knew it wasn't rational, but try as he might, he couldn't stop feeling that way.

Muscle-man prodded Blair back to the present moment and he stumbled out of the limousine, squinting as the sunlight hit his face. It figured that he'd get kidnapped on one of the few beautiful sunny days in Cascade.

A beefy hand wrapping around his bicep dissuaded Blair from any further ideas of trying to escape. He had to take an occasional running step to keep up with his kidnappers, and with the way his mind was spinning it was all he could do to stay upright.

He did take a moment to see if there was anyone he could signal for help but the small airport seemed deserted. Before he knew it he was being herded onto a small plane and strapped in, Muscle-man directly across from him, gun unwavering.

"Where are we going?"

"That's not important."

"I won't help you."

"You will."

The implacable calm of the man was grating. "I won't. Whatever you're doing, it's wrong or you wouldn't be kidnapping me. You'd have just come and asked for my help."

"What I'm doing doesn't matter. All that matters is what you do."

Blair gritted his teeth for a few seconds, wanting to throttle the guy. "I won't, and if you knew me at all, you'd know that."

Mr. Smith smiled again. "I do know you, and that's why I know you'll help."

Blair fisted his hands in his hair, tempted to yank it out in frustration. "What do you mean?"

"I know you'll help because you're a compassionate man, Mr. Sandburg. And these Sentinels need your help. You won't be able to refuse them. No more than you can refuse Jim Ellison, despite how he treats you."

Blair could feel the allure of the dark side beckoning to him, wanting to feed on the words being spoken to him, but he refused to give in to it. Jim didn't deserve it. And even if he did, that was between the two of them to work out, not something to be discussed with someone like this creep. "Leave Jim out of this."

"As you wish." The man opened a magazine, dismissing Blair out of hand.

Blair wasn't sure which bugged him more--when the man was speaking, or when the man ignored him. Leaning back in his seat, he stared out the window and watched as Cascade grew smaller and smaller as the plane flew ever higher.

Yeah, he'd felt some compassion for her as she slowly went insane, maybe because he saw himself in her. Saw what his life could have been like if he hadn't found Blair, or if Blair hadn't found him.

Jim grimaced as his sense memory recalled the taste of Alex. The thought of touching her, kissing her, made him sick to his stomach. No matter what excuses Blair had come up with for him, Jim couldn't forgive himself, nor could he find a way to wipe away the memory of the look on Blair's face when he'd found them on the beach.

Jim knew he'd done some shitty things in his life, and there was no doubt that when it came to beautiful women he tended to think with his dick first. But what he'd done with Alex was beyond anything he'd thought himself capable of. She'd killed Blair. And then he'd kissed her, would have screwed her if Blair hadn't come along. It made Jim feel nauseous that something so fucked up inside him could take control like that.

Jim scrubbed his face with his hand trying to eradicate the memory and then took off after the cat, anticipating that it would be gone, vanished in a puff of smoke. A fucking useless lot, in his humble opinion, Jim thought. Spirit animals showed up just to confuse the hell out of you and then left you to figure it out on your own.

The only time his panther had really made a difference was when he'd gone after Blair's wolf and helped bring him back from the dead. That thought brought Jim's mind straight back to Alex.

He ran around the corner and stopped in surprise when he saw the cat just sitting there. Well, not exactly sitting there. It was spitting and snarling, and its front claws were extended and scratching through the air.

A multitude of thoughts went through Jim's brain. The first was the fact that it looked like Alex's leopard. The second was that it didn't look good. It was mangy; the hair on its torso existing only in clumps, the skin in between was flaky and red with a rash. Its pupils were a dull white as if in the last stages of glaucoma. Even its snarl sounded pitiful.

For an alarming moment, as a paw almost reached him, claws extended, Jim wondered if it might be real; maybe it had escaped from some traveling zoo, or from some owner who had been mistreating it.

A kid on a skateboard went whizzing by him and rode right through the leopard. Right through. Not real then. His next thought was that he hated this mystical shit. Hated it.

He gave a quick glance around to see if his panther was around. Jim rolled his eyes at its absence. Of course not. Why should it be around when he might actually need the damn thing? Jim pulled his phone out and flipped it open, but before he dialed it, he flipped it shut.

The leopard snarled at him again.

Jim snarled right back. "Shut up." He wasn't in the mood for ghost animals, he wasn't in the mood for dealing with this shit without Blair, and he for sure wasn't in the mood to deal with Alex or, more truthfully, how he was when he was with Alex. What he was in the mood for was to turn back the hands of time to when he and Blair got along. Before Alex had come and fucked everything up.

He needed to call Blair and tell him about the leopard. Jim knew logically that everything had gone wrong with Alex because he and Blair hadn't talked. But even as he flipped the phone open again he felt his usual resistance. Despite everything Blair had done for him it still went against the grain to ask for help. To open up, especially about this sort of stuff. Because talking about it made it more real and Jim didn't want it to be more real. He wanted it to be less real. Not real at all.

He looked around again, making sure nothing bad was happening. After all, the first time he'd seen Alex's spirit animal, a robbery was going down. Focusing his senses, Jim scoped out the area. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he looked down and realized the cat was gone.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Jim sagged momentarily against the brick wall of the building. Before he could talk himself out of it he pushed the speed dial for Blair's cell phone. It rang seven times before finally rolling over into voice mail. "Sandburg, call me," Jim snapped curtly into the phone, before flipping the phone shut.

Jim considered where Blair might be. His Guide was finally back to a full schedule; he hadn't been in the best of shape when they'd arrived back from Mexico, and it had taken him a few weeks to get back to fighting strength. Sort of fighting strength.

He wasn't fighting with Jim anymore. Everything that had happened with Alex took all the punch out of Blair. He tiptoed around as if he was waiting for Jim to throw him out of the loft again; it was making Jim crazy.

Jim didn't know how to deal with this kind of Sandburg. He was used to an in-your-face sort of Sandburg. A Sandburg who took none of his shit and gave it back two-fold. A Sandburg who always bounced back.

He wasn't bouncing much these days. Something crucial had happened in Mexico, before Mexico, and it had broken something that wasn't mending. Jim wished that Blair would shove him around, demand an apology, force him to talk about what happened, extract apologies of sufficient sincerity to begin the process of making things like they were before.

But Blair hadn't said a word. And so Jim hadn't either. They'd gone to get Blair's stuff, reinstated him into his small room, and carried on.

Jim hated it.

He glanced at his watch, figured that Blair would be on his way to the station right now. Deciding he'd go meet him there, Jim loped to his truck, started it up, and headed downtown.

When he felt nothing, Jim frowned and punched the elevator button again, impatiently. As the doors opened he took one more cautious and scowling look for the fox, but it was nowhere in sight. Grumbling, he got on the elevator and punched the seven for Major Crimes.

It wasn't until he got to his desk and saw a huge boa constrictor wrapped around the legs of his desk that Jim began to think that something was seriously wrong. He flipped his phone open and dialed Blair. When he got the recording again he snapped it shut. "Damn it."

Jim looked down at the snake which was giving him a baleful eye. He recognized the species from Peru. It was a Peruvian red-tailed boa, more commonly referred to as a mantona. "Fuck."

Simon was suddenly standing next to him and Jim startled; he hadn't even heard him approach. "Something wrong, Ellison?"

Jim's eyes darted around to make sure no one was paying the two of them any undue attention. After ascertaining that they weren't, he pointed to the floor. "Do you see that?"

"See what?" Simon already sounded weary of whatever game he thought Jim was playing.

Jim let out a sigh. "The snake?"

Simon took an apprehensive step backwards. "There's a snake in here?" He cautiously looked under Jim's desk.

That alone told Jim that Simon didn't see it. The damn thing had to be ten feet long and there was no missing it. "Fuck," he said again, heartfelt, as he frowned at the snake.

Jim felt Simon's gaze on him and could only imagine the frown forming on his boss's face. Jim kept watching the snake, wishing it to perdition. Simon grabbed the sleeve of Jim's jacket and tugged on it. "My office. Now."

Jim let out another sigh, glowering one last time at the snake. It hissed at him in return, and continued to hiss, its tongue flickering out, as Jim followed Simon into his office. Jim moved to the outside window, and Simon took his usual place behind his desk, sitting in his chair.

"Tell me this, Jim. Do I even want to know why you're seeing snakes?"

Jim shook his head. "Have you heard from Sandburg?"

Simon frowned. "Don't change the subject."

"I think this might be the subject. He should be here by now."

"So the kid's late. What's the big deal?"

Jim peered out the window, hoping he would see Blair's Volvo chugging up the street. He was starting to get a really bad feeling about the fact that Blair wasn't here. Even though the two of them weren't talking much, Blair was still showing up when he said he would, and if he couldn't, he called. Short phone calls, to the point, but still, he called.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Jim turned to Simon, leaning against the window. "Do you know the name of the place where they have Alex?"

"Why?" Simon asked, with a look of 'I need a vacation, badly, starting right now' all over his face.

Jim let out a sigh. "Because I think that, uh, that she might be around again. And she might not be alone. There might be another Sentinel involved as well. Maybe more than one."

Simon picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers, glaring at Jim while the phone rang. "You think she's back? Just exactly when were you planning on letting me know this?" he scolded angrily. When someone answered the phone, he started hollering, demanding they track down the number for Alex Barnes' hospital, find out if she was there, and to call him back with the information yesterday.

Slamming down the phone, he said, "And what do you mean, other Sentinels? Please tell me we're not about to go through whatever the hell that was down in Mexico, because my nerves can't take it." He stood up, shoving his chair back with a loud scrape, the chair barely managing to stay upright. "Where's Sandburg? Talk to me, Ellison."

Jim scowled. "I'm, um, I'm seeing--" God, he hated this. He needed Blair to be here so Jim could explain it to his Guide, and his Guide could explain it to Simon. Somehow Blair always made the Sentinel stuff sound less crazy.

"What are you seeing? I can already tell I'm not gonna like this and where the hell is Sandburg?"

Under less tense circumstances, Jim might have smiled. Even Simon knew the Sentinel stuff went down easier when Blair was around. Although part of Simon's asking about Sandburg were probably the captain's own memories of Blair lying dead on the grass and his desire not to see it again. Jim couldn't agree more.

He blurted it out. "I'm seeing spirit animals. I saw a leopard right before Alex showed up last time and I saw it again on the way to work. There was a fox downstairs and there's a huge boa constrictor using the floor space under my desk." Jim deflated, his confession sucking all the air out of him, and he sank down into a chair.

Simon stared at him, his eyes incredulous, and then he moved to the window in his office door to look at Jim's desk. He spun around, a scowl on his face. "Are you on drugs?"

Jim let his head fall back. "I wish I was."

Simon pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. "There's a boa constrictor out there under your desk?"

Jim didn't want to look but he forced himself to his feet and joined his captain at the office window. There it was, undulating around the desk legs, as if there was no beginning or end to him, an uroboros in the flesh. Or snake skin, spirit snake skin. Whatever. Jim wanted to shoot it. He hated this shit. "Yup, it's there."

"What does it want?"

Jim felt consumed with weariness. "I don't know. All I do know is that the last time this shit started to happen, Blair ended up dead." And that was NOT happening this time.

There was a knock on the door and when Simon opened it, Rhonda handed him a piece of paper. Simon read it and handed it to Jim. "She's still there. Still comatose."

Jim closed his eyes, relieved.

"So where is Sandburg?"

Simon's annoyed question interrupted his short-lived sense of relief. "He should be here," Jim said, pointing at the floor of the office, making it clear that Blair should be standing right in front of him.

"Did you try him at home?"

Jim pulled out his phone and called the loft. When he got the answering machine, he hung up. He tried Blair's cell phone, and then his office at work. No answer anywhere. "Shit. I have to go find him," Jim said in his tone of voice that meant don't-try-to-stop-me.

"I'll go with you." Simon grabbed his suit jacket and shrugged into it.

"You don't have to, Captain. I'll be fine. I just need to find him." Jim was surprised to find that he meant it. He was fine. He was freaked about what all the spirit animals meant, and he was scared that Blair might be in danger, but Jim didn't feel the soul-snatching weirdness that had affected him when Alex had been around the last time.

Simon let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah, that's what you said to me on the way to Mexico. I'll believe it when I see it."

Jim glared at Simon but his boss just glared right back. Giving in, Jim opened the office door and stalked out. He didn't even give the boa constrictor a look as he walked by it. And when he got on the elevator, he did his very best to ignore the tiger that was growling from the corner.

Simon must have seen something on his face because he asked nervously, "Something in here with us now?" He gave the small space a careful going over.

Jim just shook his head and refused to make eye contact with the damn thing. It was pretty easy to ignore when it was just growling and letting out occasional chuffs of annoyance. But when it let loose with a loud roar, Jim winced and put his hands over his ears.

Simon let out a long beleaguered sigh. "I don't want to know, do I?"

Jim shook his head again. "No."

"I didn't think so."

Not another word was said as the elevator made its descent to the ground floor. When Jim tripped over the fox again in the lobby he shot Simon a look. "Don't ask."

"Don't worry, I won't." Simon gritted his teeth around his cigar so hard Jim was afraid he was going to bite it in two.

As they arrived at Jim's truck, Jim stopped and then looked at Simon. "Let's take your car."

Simon gave Jim's truck a narrow-eyed look. "Why?"

Jim stood at attention, his gaze focused over Simon's shoulder, his back ramrod straight. "There's a golden eagle sitting on my truck."

Simon pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses. "I knew I should have stayed in bed today." Then he swung around. "Fine, let's take my car."

Jim looked daggers at the eagle and then followed Simon to his sedan. Relieved that no animals seemed to be either on, under, or in the vehicle, Jim slid into the passenger seat. "I think we should go to Rainier first."

Simon nodded, and started the car.

He couldn't believe that Mr. Smith, or whatever the hell his name was, could possibly have Sentinels. Like, if you had enough money, you could order them through some exclusive catalog.

Blair had been so excited to meet Alex when he'd first realized she was another Sentinel. Jim was his Sentinel; he always would be. But having the opportunity to study another Sentinel would have given more credibility to his work, would have allowed Blair to test all his hypotheses out on a second subject.

Second subject. Meaning Jim was his first subject. His primary subject, he'd called him on his research tapes. Not a friend, let alone a best friend. Blair tightened his lips and swallowed against the sting of tears. He'd gotten it so wrong. Jim had been right about that part. Keeping Jim in the dark about Alex hadn't been the act of a friend. Hadn't been the act of someone that Jim could trust.

Blair let out a sigh, wishing his memories of the past few weeks would leave him the hell alone. If he wasn't pushing down his anger at Jim's actions regarding Alex, or how it felt to be shoved into that damn fountain until he was forced to breathe in the cold dirty water, then he was berating himself for putting the whole disaster in motion by keeping information from Jim and treating him as if his primary role in Blair's life was as a research subject.

Blair knew, rationally, that coming clean to Jim might not have changed anything. Jim still would have been attracted to her, and maybe Blair would have still ended up dead. But at least he wouldn't have to feel so damn guilty about his part in the whole mess.

The limousine pulled into a driveway. Blair saw a sign flash by, something-something sanitarium. He swallowed against the rise of acid in his throat, wondering if this was where Alex was being kept.

If that was the case, Blair almost hoped Jim didn't come looking for him. The last thing he could stand to watch again was Jim holding Alex's hand, brushing the hair off her face, even if she was in a coma. His hands fisted at the thought, at the vision of Jim being kind to her in a way he was so rarely kind to Blair.

At the same time Blair was almost undone with a yearning for Jim to hold him, comfort him. He ached with it. Because he needed to hear the words he said, "He'll find me, you know."

"Jim Ellison?" Mr. Smith's voice sounded more amused than concerned.

Blair nodded firmly, wanting the man to be worried, wanting him to be afraid of Jim.

"I doubt that."

"He's good at what he does. Once he realizes I'm gone, he'll figure out something happened to me."

"That may be true, but he won't find you here."

The man's arrogance was annoying. "Have you forgotten that he's a Sentinel? No matter how clever you've been, you'll have left some clues behind that he'll find." Blair couldn't help the pride in his voice. Jim was truly awesome.

The limousine pulled into an underground garage. Mr. Smith smiled smugly at Blair. "Even if he should find you, Mr. Sandburg, are you sure you want him coming here?"

Blair's brows furrowed at that. "What do you mean?"

"Think about it. All these Sentinels. Even if he does come, don't you think he'll be too busy trying to copulate with them to bother about you?"

There was something off about the man's voice, almost as if he were trying to convince Blair to believe what he was saying versus a true conviction. But it was enough to start an unsettling parade of images through his mind.

Blair's fingertips were digging into his palms and he was rigid with anger. If he'd been alone with the man he might have tried to throttle him; only the presence of Muscle-man held him back. "How do you know what happened?" His most painful secrets were being held out to the light of day and he hated the man for it.

"As that file clearly showed, Mr. Sandburg, I've been having you watched."

"Did you know Alex Barnes? Did you know what she was like? Did you?" Blair could hear the accusations in the questions, knew Mr. Smith would hear them, too.

"I knew she had a propensity toward violence, yes. However, she was safely locked away."

Blair's heart was hammering in his chest. "But you were wrong, weren't you? She got out. Did you know she got out?"

"I was informed of it immediately, of course."

Another flash of rage swept through Blair. "So you knew what she was capable of? You let her kill me and mess with Jim's head that way? What kind of monster are you?"

For the first time, Mr. Smith appeared almost uncomfortable. "Yes, well, that was a misunderstanding. I wasn't as clear with my orders as I should have been. My people had orders to watch you; I should have made it clearer to them that I needed you alive."

That didn't even come close to making Blair feel better, in fact it appalled him. "And Jim, what about Jim?"

Mr. Smith recovered his composure as he only shrugged, unconcerned. "Ellison wasn't important. Only you were."

"She had enough nerve gas to kill millions of people. You should have helped us stop her." Blair would never understand people like him. Like her. People who stood by and let others be hurt.

The infuriating smug smile was back. "Like your Mr. Ellison did? My men told me he let her go. He saved her life, more than once. And he deserted you in the middle of the night, in the middle of the jungle, to go rutting after her." His eyes lit up with an unholy amusement. "It might be quite interesting to see what Ellison does with several Sentinels."

Blair had never wanted to hit someone as badly as he did now. He hated this man. Hated him for his callous disregard of the safety of the world, and hated him even more for his ability to twist a knife into every wounded place in Blair's heart.

The limousine stopped, and Muscle-man escorted Blair out of the vehicle and into a door marked Private Entrance. Mr. Smith led the way down several hallways until they came to another door marked Monitoring Suite. He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Blair was shoved into the room and Mr. Smith made a gesture inviting him to sit near a bank of monitors. "Mr. Sandburg, here are your new subjects. I think you'll see that they are in need of your assistance."

His eyes moved from one monitor to the next, five in total. Each screen showed a small room, maybe ten feet by ten feet. They were sparsely decorated, holding only a bed and two chairs. There was a door in each room that Blair guessed led to a bathroom. There had been windows, high up on the wall like transom windows, but they'd been covered over. Four of the rooms had occupants.

Slowly, as if drawn by some invisible thread, Blair found himself sitting in front of the monitors, his heart going out to each of the four. With the exception of one, none of them looked well. "What's wrong with them?"

"Their senses are driving them insane. They need a Guide."

His gaze was caught by the girl in room four. She couldn't be more than ten or eleven. He tapped the screen. "Why is she here? Where are her parents?"

"They're dead."

Blair shot him a venomous look. "Because of you?"

Mr. Smith shook his head. "No. They conveniently died on their own right after I discovered her."

Blair came off the chair and lunged for the man. He was stopped when Muscle-man simply moved in his path. Blair bounced off him and went flying to the floor. He staggered to his feet. "She should be in a loving home, not being treated like some lab rat."

"Unlike the way you treated your subject, Mr. Sandburg? I've seen your notes."

"That was different and you know it." Blair ignored the small voice inside of him that wondered just how different it had been. "He was in his own home, in the job of his choice, surrounded by friends. It was his decision; I couldn't make him do anything he didn't want to do."

Mr. Smith let out a mirthless laugh. "Again, you underestimate yourself. I do believe he would do anything you asked. Such is the nature of Sentinels and Guides."

Blair moved back to the monitors and watched the little girl. She was sitting on her bed, her legs pressed up tight to her body, thin arms wrapped around her knees, her dark tresses matted. She was singing softly and rocking herself back and forth.

"You have no right to do this." Blair's voice was shaking he was so livid.

"Life is often unfair, as you well know. There will be rewards for them if they learn to do as I ask."

"I won't help you."

"You will. The longer they stay here, the worse they get. They need you."

"They don't need me. They need to be put back where you found them. You say it was a coincidence that Jim and I met, but maybe it's more than that. Maybe it's fate or destiny. Maybe if you'd left them where they were they might have met someone to be their Guide." He looked at the Sentinels again and then up at Mr. Smith. "You have to let them go."

"That wouldn't suit me or my plans for them."

Blair was disgusted at the cavalier attitude Mr. Smith had, as if these Sentinels had no rights, no value outside of their worth to him. He tapped the screen for room 5. "Where's this one?" It looked at if someone had been in the room recently; the bed was still rumpled. Blair looked a little closer. Dark spots of red dotted the linens, back wall and floor. They looked suspiciously like blood.

"That's a good question." Mr. Smith picked up the phone. "Where's Subject Five?" There was a pause. "When did it happen?" His eyes grew dark with annoyance. "She was a valuable specimen; I'm not pleased." Another pause.

If Mr. Smith was talking about anything other than the health and well-being of a Sentinel, Blair might have felt a perverse enjoyment that someone had pissed the guy off.

"I know I left orders--" Mr. Smith glanced at Blair and cut himself off. "We'll talk about this later." He hung up the phone and turned to Blair. "Apparently, she's dead. She was put down while I was collecting you."

Blair shot him an appalled look. "Put down?" His voice cracked he was so upset. "We're talking about human beings here, not dogs. Why? Why would you do that?"

"She became unmanageable. It will happen to the rest of them if you don't help."

In pained disbelief, Blair's eyes ran over the monitors for rooms one to three. They were all young. Not as young as the girl in room four, but he'd bet that none of them were over the age of 21. It was possible the Hispanic man was a little older, but not by much.

He was in room two and looked serene in comparison to the occupants of the other rooms. The stocky Hispanic was sitting on the floor by his bed; his legs crossed Indian-style, his hands resting on his knees. Blair guessed the man was meditating. He just had that look about him.

The young black woman in room one looked the most alert even if it was anger spurring her on. She was walking around the room, running her hand along the walls. Blair suspected she was looking for weaknesses, for a way to escape. Twice she slammed her open palm against the walls in sheer frustration.

Room three was torn apart; the chairs were in pieces, the mattress ripped in places, the stuffing torn out. There was blood running down the young man's face, arms, and legs from cuts he must have gotten when he'd attacked his room so violently. He was screaming at the video camera. Blair couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was clear from the expression on his face that it was vituperative in nature. Every now and then spittle would fly from his lips.

Room four held the little girl, and the fifth room was empty.

Blair couldn't imagine what the imprisonment was like for them if all their senses were truly enhanced. No privacy, no rational stimulation, no one to help them deal with runaway senses, being treated like animals. He closed his eyes as his own situation became clearer. Mr. Smith was right. He would help these people. He had to. Anger racing through him again, he glared at Mr. Smith. "What do you plan to do with them?"

"That doesn't concern you at present. All I need you to do for now is assist them in gaining some control."

Blair knew that he might be making them stronger only for them to be used against their will, but he couldn't leave them like this. "I want to see the little girl first. And I'll need a first aid kit for the one who's bleeding."

Mr. Smith's smile curdled Blair's stomach; the man had won this round and Blair hated that he'd been so easy to manipulate. When Mr. Smith gestured at the door, Blair rose reluctantly and followed him out.

He'd searched the area carefully, looking for anything that might indicate who had taken his Guide and why, but other than a tire tread and a partial footprint, there was nothing. Neither the footprint nor the tire tread were anything out of the ordinary. Tires just like it were on thousands of cars, and the footprint revealed nothing more than the past presence of a man wearing a size twelve shoe.

There had been nothing at home to indicate foul play, no messages on the answering machine requesting Blair's presence somewhere; there was no blood at the scene, not even signs of a struggle. No one on campus had seen anything suspicious. But as Blair parked in a distant lot to keep his parking fees down, there wasn't much foot traffic in the area other than people going to and from their cars.

No one had tried to contact Jim demanding ransom or some service in exchange for the return of his Guide. It was making Jim crazy. There was nothing for him to do but wait.

Someone had just snatched Blair up and spirited him away.

Now back at the station, he slammed himself down in his desk chair and glared at the phone as if its very silence was taunting his ineptitude. He found himself straining to hear his Guide's heartbeat, his laughter, his enthusiastic voice waxing poetic about something Jim couldn't be bothered with. Right now, Jim would have sold his soul to listen to anything Blair had to say.

The little girl kept rocking, ignoring Blair.

He moved to the bed, sitting as far away from her as he could, but situating himself so she couldn't help but see him. "I see you have hair just like me. Kind of hard to take care of, isn't it?"

She glanced at him quickly, her eyes darting to his hair as if to check the veracity of his words.

He spoke again. "Did your mom used to comb it for you? My mom used to do that for me."

She shook her head. "My sister did."

"Your sister? Wow. I never had a sister. Is it nice having a sister?"

She nodded, her brown eyes huge on her small face. "Do you know where she is, Mister? The other man won't tell me."

Blair worked hard to keep his anger from showing on his face. "No, I don't. I'm sorry." He gestured at her hair. "Want me to try and comb out your hair? I have a lot of practice at it."

She shook her head, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "My head hurts."

Blair gave her a thorough look and realized that there were rashes on her skin, and she was holding her body rigidly. "Does everything hurt?"

She nodded, miserable.

"Is my voice too loud?"

Another nod.

Blair softened his voice. "I think I can help you a little. Will you let me try?"

One more nod as another tear tracked down her cheek.

Blair wanted to give her a hug so badly it was making him crazy, but he knew it would only hurt her now. "Okay, I need you to picture a straight line. On one end I want you to imagine that you can't hear anything. No noise, no voices, nothing. Then, on the other end, I want you to imagine things being as loud as they can. So noisy you want to cover your ears and scream really loud to try and fight back. You got that?"

She nodded.

"Now, I want you to figure out where you are on that line. I'm thinking you're probably pretty near the really loud side, right?"

When she nodded, he continued. "Okay. Now, nice and slow, I want you to imagine yourself just sliding down that line towards the quiet part. Not all the way, just maybe half way. Keep sliding until my voice doesn't hurt you any more. Can you do that?"

Her eyes stayed on his as she furrowed her brow and concentrated. Suddenly her eyes opened wide.

Blair smiled. "I'm guessing that helped?"

She nodded in relief. "Yeah, it's better. Thanks, Mister."

"You can call me Blair. What's your name?"

"Amelia."

"Well, Amelia, I'm very glad to meet you. Ready for me to help you more?"

At her nod, Blair walked her through a similar exercise for the rest of her senses. He watched happily as she slowly relaxed. She let out a long sigh and gave Blair a tremulous grin. "My sister used to help me before. She'd hug me and I'd feel better."

"Would you mind if I gave you a hug?"

She shook her head shyly.

Blair held out his arms and she came to him readily, snuggling onto his lap. He held her tightly, running a hand comfortingly up and down her back. "Think you can sleep now?"

She nodded against his chest, and then let out a big yawn.

"I might not be here when you wake up, but I'll come visit you again."

"Promise?"

"I promise." Blair hoped it was true, that Mr. Smith would allow him to visit as often as he wished it. "And just remember those lines in your head if you start to hurt again, okay?"

Another sleepy nod, and then her eyes drifted shut and she sagged against him.

He held her for another minute and then gently laid her on the bed, pulling the covers over her. "Sweet dreams, Amelia." Blair watched for a few minutes, fighting a sting of tears. It wasn't fair that she was here, that she'd been taken away from her family, from her sister, who was most probably her Guide, and locked away here by a man who had every intention of stealing away any bright future she might have had.

Blair vowed to fight as hard as he could to free her. To free them all. Thinking of the rest of them made him remember the man who had been bleeding. He needed to see him next. Blair knocked softly on the door to be let out.

Jim shook his head.

"You can't do anything here. If someone calls I can have it routed to your cell phone. If Sandburg gets free, he'll call your cell phone. If we do figure out where he is, you need to have eaten and slept or you'll be no good to him. Go home."

Jim didn't want to leave. He didn't want to go home to an empty apartment.

"That wasn't a request. It was an order. Go home and I don't want to see you here any earlier than eight a.m. Is that clear?" Simon growled.

Jim nodded wearily and stood, collecting his jacket. Without another word, he headed for the door.

Blair passed multiple patient rooms on the way to his next destination but all the rooms were empty, their doors standing open. Mr. Smith, or whatever his real name was, must have bought the sanitarium and then transferred everyone, except for the Sentinels, out to other centers.

As they approached the last room in the wing, Blair began to hear the cussing. This kid was beyond pissed-off. By the sound of him, Blair wasn't even sure he was completely sane anymore.

He waited as Muscle-man unlocked the door and opened it. Instead of leaving him inside alone, this time his guard preceded him into the room and stood threateningly against the door as he shut and locked it.

The young man sneered at the guard but left him alone otherwise. Blair wondered if the Sentinel had tried to attack Muscle-man before and found it a useless endeavor. The guy was built like the rock of Gibraltar.

Blair wasn't so lucky. The next thing he knew, the kid launched himself in his direction, fingers spread, claw-like, ready to eviscerate him. Blair let out an involuntary cry and took a step backwards, only to find the guard stepping in front of him.

The kid hit him hard, bounced off and fell to the floor. He stood, shook it off, and picked up a piece of his broken chair, holding it front of him like a weapon.

Muscle-man moved so fast, Blair almost missed it. In seconds, the kid was disarmed, his hands were cuffed behind his back, and he was being forced to his knees.

Blair was both impressed and dismayed. The guard knew his stuff, but he was part of the reason this kid felt the need to fight in the first place.

He sank down to his knees, too, and tried to make eye contact. "Hey, my name is Blair. I'm here to help you."

The kid spit at him and even though Blair leaned back, the spit still hit his cheek.

Muscle-man kidney-punched the young man and he grunted.

Blair wiped off his spit and then glared at his guard. "Don't hit him again. None of this is his fault."

"Who the fuck are you? I don't need your fucking help. The only thing I need is to get the fuck out of here." He struggled against the cuffs, shifting his weight, as if he was thinking of trying to get to his feet.

Muscle-man pressed down on his shoulders, making sure he didn't go anywhere.

Blair tried again, staying farther back this time. "Listen. I know your senses are out of control--"

"You don't know fuck about me, asshole."

"Oookay." Blair sat back on his heels and considered the situation. He carefully assessed this second Sentinel and saw a young man with hazel eyes spitting with anger and confusion. His hair was dirty blond, greasy, with spots darkened by blood. He only wore a pair of jeans, and he was skinny, his rib cage pronounced, stomach concave.

There were tattoos down both arms, a mixture of violence and beauty, skull and crossbones caressed by roses, a dagger with drips of blood falling from the tip brushed up against what looked like the riotous explosion of colors in a sunset.

Underneath the blood and bruising, he was covered with a rash. His forehead was wrinkled in pain, his eyes squinted against the light. Blair could see that on a good day, the kid would be spectacularly handsome.

"Let's try this again. I know you're angry, but I had nothing to do with you being brought here. I'm here against my will as well. But I do understand what's happening to you, that your senses are out of control, that you hurt, that you're confused, and I think I can help, if you let me."

His eyes glittered at Blair in anger. "Fuck off."

Blair gestured at the kid's body. "You're hurt. I can clean those cuts, and help you control the pain. I can make that rash go away, too, help make the noises less loud, make the light less bright. I can make things easier for you."

"You gonna fuck me then?"

"What?" Blair stared at him in appalled astonishment.

"If you want to make things fucking easier for me, then how 'bout you get on your fucking hands and knees and let me fuck you. Let me have at your skinny white ass, and give you a good fuck."

Blair tried to keep it all in perspective, but he was afraid he was losing the battle. Pushing his anger aside, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Why? So you can yell it out while I fuck you?" He pretended to be in the throes of sexual ecstasy. "Oh, yeah, oh, John, fuck me, fuck me hard, fuck me through the floor." He grinned meanly at Blair, thrusting his crotch in Blair's direction, an obvious hard-on straining against the fabric.

"So, your name is John?"

"Fuck off."

Blair wanted to leave the room, badly. He wanted Jim to be on the other side of the door, kicking it in, then holding him, and telling him that it was all going to be all right. Or maybe he'd get a whiff of the pheromones John was putting out with that cock of his, and Jim would push Blair aside, and they'd go at it together, Blair a reluctant audience to Sentinel mating instincts.

A little sick to his stomach, feeling besieged by both his current situation and his imagination, Blair stood and moved closer to John. He had to remember that John was a prisoner here, that he was being driven insane by his senses. That he was not to blame for the things he was saying and doing.

Trusting that Muscle-man wouldn't let anything painful happen to him, Blair reached out and touched John's arm. He didn't know if it would help, but he did know that often his touch was all Jim needed to get back in control.

The kid twisted away, fell to his butt, and kicked out with his feet, connecting painfully with Blair's shin. As Blair stumbled, he saw the guard's fist smash into John's chin.

He hit the ground with a splat, the punch having knocked him unconscious. Blair tried not to feel it, but a part of him was glad.

Even the night Jim had kicked Blair out and emptied the place of all the furniture hadn't felt as empty as this. Of course, Jim had been a crazy person at the time and had wanted it empty, so that didn't really count.

The animals had disappeared. No fox, no tiger, and no snake hissing at him in displeasure, no golden eagle lording it over his truck. Jim wondered where they'd gone. Wondered why they'd been there, what the point of their appearance had been.

He sort of wished they'd show up again. At least it had been something. Maybe they'd been trying to tell him something important. A message about Blair. Maybe he should have paid attention to them, asked them why they were bothering him.

Jim had never liked the answers he'd gotten from his panther, but at least they were answers. Better than this gaping unknown that was filling his apartment.

Deciding he wasn't going to get any sleep, Jim arose, put on his robe, and headed downstairs. He was going to make some coffee, but when he opened the cabinet and saw all of Blair's tea, he chose to make a cup of tea instead, a way to feel Blair's presence.

Blowing on the tea to cool it down, Jim moved to the balcony, opening the doors and stepping through. He leaned against the railing, casting his eyes over the water, the lights from the surrounding buildings shimmering on the surface. "Blair, where are you?" he asked, expecting no answer.

Which was why he almost had a heart attack when a huge great-horned owl practically flew into his face, hooting loudly.

"Jesus," Jim yelled, dropping his mug, hearing it shatter into pieces. He put his hand over his chest, thinking it might help keep his heart from hammering its way out.

The owl alighted on the railing and stared at him with its great yellow unblinking eyes.

Jim stared back. "Are you real?" He wished there was someone around who could corroborate as to whether an owl was really sitting there.

The owl blinked and hooted, moving a little closer to Jim.

Feeling like a complete idiot, Jim asked, "Are you here to tell me something? Do you know where Blair is?" He sincerely hoped no one was watching him have either a conversation with himself or, even worse, with an owl.

When the owl only blinked, Jim tried again. "You, uh, you haven't seen a wolf around, have you?"

Nothing.

"Damn it." Jim gingerly walked around the broken pieces of mug and went inside to get a broom. When he got back the owl was gone but he heard it hoot and, after he looked over the railing, Jim saw it flying south. It seemed to turn its head to look at him for a second, and then it was gone.

Jim thought about it for a second and decided it was good enough for him. He ran up the stairs, got dressed, grabbed his keys, and headed for his truck.

He glanced up at Muscle-man, only to find him staring at him impassively, ready to take him to his next adventure. Blair could only hope it would go a little better than this encounter had. "Has he always been like that?"

The man just stared at him.

"Come on," Blair snapped. "I have to know what I'm up against. I need to know how much of that is him, and how much of it is due to his senses driving him crazy."

"The kid was always an asshole, but he's gotten worse over time," the man answered begrudgingly.

"How long has he been here?"

"Two months."

Blair's jaw dropped. "He's been in that little room for two months?" He was pretty sure he'd be insane after that long an imprisonment, too.

The guy shrugged.

"How about the rest of them? How long has the little girl been here?"

"Two weeks."

"And the young black woman?"

"A month."

Blair felt like he was pulling teeth. "The Hispanic guy?"

"Pretty close to a month."

"How about the one that died?"

"She was already in a coma when he brought her here."

Blair's hands fisted. "In a coma? Was it Alex Barnes? Is that who the fifth one was?"

"Blond chick? Big tits?"

Blair nodded with a grimace, troubled that anyone would end up with that as their epitaph, even someone like Alex. Alex--who had been put down, like some unwanted feral cat. The whole thing made him so unbearably sad. These were human beings with a phenomenal gift and look how they were ending up. Kept prisoner, dehumanized, unloved.

"Let's go see the next one." Maybe he couldn't help John, but he had already helped Amelia, and maybe he could help the last two as well.

The guard gestured Blair down the hall, and Blair obediently headed off. They took an elevator to the third floor, and again, he was taken to the farthest room. The guard opened the door, and let him go in alone.

The peacefulness in this room was such a contrast to the last room that reality seemed to shift and Blair felt as if he were dreaming. The young Hispanic man was still sitting on the floor, his legs crossed, hands resting gently on his knees. His eyes were closed, and Blair used the time to take a good look.

He was large. Not fat, but large. He looked strong, not the strong that came with working out in a gym and lifting weights, but the strong that came with using your body for a living. He wasn't particularly good-looking, his face a little droopy, nose too big, neck too short.

But then he opened his eyes and smiled at Blair and the light of his soul shone through, and Blair couldn't remember when he'd seen something so appealing. He didn't even know the guy, but he liked him already.

Still smiling, the man said, "I knew you were coming."

Blair couldn't help but smile back. "You did? How?"

He pointed to the corner of the room behind Blair. "He told me."

Blair turned to find his spirit wolf sitting there on its haunches, its tongue hanging out of its mouth, teeth showing in a wolfish grin. Blair approached it carefully. He'd never actually interacted with his wolf other than the day he'd died. And he wasn't sure he could call that an interaction; he'd actually been the wolf. "He talks to you?"

"He communicates. They all do."

Blair put a hand out, then pulled it back.

"You can touch him, he won't mind. He wants you to."

Not needing to be told twice, Blair put out a hand and ran his fingers through the soft fur. "You're beautiful."

There was a chuckle behind him. "He thanks you."

One hand still entangled in fur, Blair half-turned until he was facing the young man. "Why can you talk to him, and I can't?"

"You can, you just need to learn how."

"Wow." Blair fought the urge to bury his face in the wolf's thick scruff. Still confused, he asked, "Why is he here? With you?"

"I don't know. I had hoped he was here as a portend, but he and my spirit animal have not--." He shrugged. "Perhaps he thought I might be able to help you."

There was so much he wanted to ask, but remembering he hadn't introduced himself, Blair said, "I'm Blair, by the way."

The Sentinel put a hand on his chest. "Hector."

"Hector, it's very nice to meet you." Blair meant that as sincerely as anything he'd ever said.

"It is an honor."

"Where's your spirit animal?"

Hector shrugged. "Out hunting, I suspect." He grinned. "Or causing trouble."

Blair continued to touch the wolf, and between it and the instant camaraderie of this new Sentinel, Blair felt more at peace than he had in weeks. He sat down at the wolf's side, pleased beyond the telling of it when the wolf lay down as well, resting his head in Blair's lap.

Hector smiled. "He approves of you."

"I'm glad."

A few minutes of silence passed, as Blair continued to commune with his wolf, enjoying the quiet company of Hector. "Have you met John?"

Hector nodded. "I can feel his pain. He is in desperate need of a Guide."

"He wouldn't let me near him." That wasn't strictly true. He'd have been glad to have Blair near him--or more correctly, under him. Wishing he didn't need to see the troubled boy again, and feeling guilty that he felt that way, Blair let his head sink down until his forehead rested on the wolf's head.

For the first time, Hector lost the serene expression on his face. "Are you here for him? I had hoped you were here for me."

Blair raised his head, not understanding. "Uh, I think I'm here for all of you."

Hector shook his head, his look kind. "A Guide can only be with one Sentinel."

Blair thought about Alex, about how badly his good intentions to help her had turned out, and wondered if Hector was right. But then he thought about Amelia; he had made her feel better. "I don't understand. Why can't I work with all of you, if you need my help? I can show all of you exercises and meditations to help with your senses." He gestured at the man with an open palm. "Although, you seem to know more than me, so I'm guessing you don't need that from me."

Hector scooted across the floor until his knees were only a couple inches apart from Blair's. "You know you are a Guide?"

Blair nodded.

"Were you called to come here?"

"Here, like this building?"

Hector nodded.

Blair shook his head. "No. This guy grabbed me and brought me here."

"Ah, I see. I was mistaken. I had hoped once there were five of us, that the Guides would be called."

"Five of you? Five Sentinels?"

"Yes." Hector smiled again. "But perhaps you were called. After all, God works in mysterious ways. I would have you choose me."

Blair felt out of his depth, knew that things were happening here that were more important than the simple words being spoken. "I don't think I understand. What is this choosing?"

"The Guide chooses the Sentinel. The Sentinel can only hope that he is chosen to be a Guide's lifemate."

Blair's eyes opened wide. "Lifemate? Like in a marriage or something?"

"Only if that is what the Sentinel and the Guide wish."

"Maybe you could start at the beginning. I don't know much about being a Guide, I mean other than the practical parts, showing a Sentinel how to control his or her senses."

Hector smiled kindly. "Then you know what is important."

"How do you know so much about Sentinels and Guides?"

"In my village in Peru where I grew up, there have always been Sentinels. Many Sentinels, but few Guides. The elders decided that wherever the Guides were they must be too far away to hear the call."

It was weird for Blair to hear that somehow Guides were a rarer breed than Sentinels. Mr. Smith had said the same thing, but Blair wasn't ready to believe anything he said. Up until this very moment, it had never crossed Blair's mind that he was anything special at all--just someone lucky enough to get interested in Sentinels and actually find one. "How did you end up here?"

"My grandfather sent me here to find my Guide. He had a vision that I would find my Guide far from home."

"How did Mr. Smith find you?"

"My spirit animal brought me here."

"What?" Blair's jaw dropped. "Why would it do that?"

Hector shrugged. "I do not know, but she is wiser than I and I have learned not to argue." Smiling again, he added, "I now believe that it was for you to find me."

Blair didn't want to hurt Hector's feelings, but he needed to explain a few things. "I, uh, I already have a Sentinel. His name's Jim."

Hector shook his head. "You may know a Sentinel, but you are not his Guide. You have not bonded with him. You are not his lifemate."

"How do you know that?" Blair wasn't sure how he felt about that. A part of him was put out that anyone would think he and Jim weren't together as Sentinel and Guide, but another part of him, a sad and weary part, perceived the truth of Hector's words. How could they be bonded when oceans of unspoken words lay between them? He dropped his head, the unbearable sadness rising again inside of him.

A wet tongue rasping on his face from his jaw to his temple snapped him out of his mood, and Blair laughed as he pushed the wolf's head to the side. "Yuck." He wiped his face with the back of one hand and then wiped it on his jeans. "Tell me about this bonding. If it's not sexual, what is it?"

"Where I come from, a Guide chooses his or her Sentinel. There is a knowing, a rightness. The Sentinel may of course refuse, but I have never seen it happen. No Sentinel wants to live his or her life without a lifemate."

"Okay, so what happens if the Sentinel says yes?"

"They make a blood pact. It is a simple ritual, but it gets imbued with the power of the Guide and the Sentinel, and the two become one."

It sounded like a marriage. "And it's not sexual?" Blair couldn't seem to get past that. He couldn't see himself being Jim's lifemate, still living in the downstairs bedroom, while Jim lived with his wife upstairs.

"I know it is different here than in my village. At home, a Guide or a Sentinel can be married to other people, but their spouses understand that their first commitment is to their lifemate. They are supported by the other people in the village, so if the Guide and Sentinel must be away for a while, their families are watched over." A look of sadness crossed Hector's face. "Here, everyone is alone."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're here and not home safe in your village."

"There are times when I wish I was home again, but not if my path here has led to you."

Blair was surprised at the pull he felt. Even Jim, for all that he was a good friend, often made Blair feel as if he were little more than a bother. He certainly rarely sought him out specifically for his services as a Guide. Jim only yelled for help when it was a matter of life and death, or when Blair pushed and pushed until Jim gave up in sheer weariness.

Sighing, wishing he felt happier about it, he reiterated, "I'm with Jim."

Hector studied him carefully. "You have chosen him?"

Blair nodded.

"He has accepted?"

Blair hesitated. Had Jim accepted? He thought about lying in his hospital bed after drowning, his invitation to Jim to join him. And Jim's very clearly implied: thanks, but no thanks.

Hector's eyes opened wide, giving his face almost a comical look. "He refused you?"

Blair felt the need to defend his friend. "He didn't understand what I was asking. I didn't understand what I was asking. It's been hard for both of us, especially for him. Having these senses has been a struggle for him, in a lot of ways. And all the mystical stuff, it makes him uneasy." But Blair wondered. Their spirit animals had just merged and Jim had brought him back from the dead. If he refused an invitation then, when the evidence of their connection was unavoidable, how likely was it that Jim would ever choose Blair as his lifemate?

Biting back a sad laugh, Blair shook his head. He couldn't even imagine asking Jim again, let alone suggesting they partake of a blood ritual. Smiling sadly at Hector, he added, "And rituals aren't really his thing."

"Blair, I do not have the right to tell you what your path is, but I wonder what it is that keeps you by this man's side. Is it because he is a Sentinel and something within you recognizes your rightful place as a Guide? Because if that is so, I am also a Sentinel, and I would honor you as my Guide. And I would never refuse your offer if you chose me." This last line was accompanied with a look of scandalized disbelief that someone would have refused Blair.

It made Blair feel good to be wanted this way by Hector. Even as he found it hard to breathe, knowing that Jim didn't.

Hector continued. "If it is because you are attracted to him as a man, as a sexual partner, then I would still honor you as my Guide." He smiled and added, "I would be disappointed because you are a beautiful man, and it would be my pleasure to be loved by you, but I would respect who you chose as a spouse."

For the first time in his life, Blair was speechless.

Determined, nonetheless, he drove until he reached the highway entrance and chose south. Wishing he'd stopped for a cup of coffee, Jim settled into the drive, wishing, uncomfortably, for a sign.

When it appeared, Jim almost drove off the road. It wasn't every day a huge boa constrictor suddenly showed up in the passenger seat of his truck. Especially one that seemed to be frowning at him.

Jim snarled at it, "What the hell did I do to you?" He pulled off the side of the road, deciding that if he was going to talk to a snake he probably shouldn't be driving. "You're lucky I didn't get in an accident."

The snake went on frowning at him.

All of Jim's frustration came to a head. "You know what? Fuck you. That's all I have to say. If the only reason you showed up was to make me drive off the road and then give me attitude, go do it somewhere else." He shooed the snake. "Go on, get out of here."

In response, the snake pulled itself into a tight coil, making itself right at home.

Jim grabbed the steering wheel very tightly, grinding his teeth, ignoring his passenger. Then, when he couldn't stand it another minute, he looked over, only to find that it was gone. He looked out the window and saw it slithering through the grass, heading in the direction Jim had been driving. "Next time just leave a map, why don't you?" he yelled out the window. Sighing, and then shifting the truck into drive, he pulled back onto the highway.

A few minutes later, above and beyond all the reasons he already should be feeling nervous, Jim started to have a sense of dread. It was just how he'd felt when he'd climbed those stairs to Hargrove Hall, only to turn and see a body in the fountain, knowing it was Blair. Loss. Complete and utter loss. He had no idea where Blair was, but he had to get there, now.

"It used to be, in the olden days, that Sentinels and Guides called to each other."

Blair kept his eyes closed, smiling at Hector's voice. He was a natural storyteller. "Go on."

"But back then, things were quieter, and the call was able to travel many miles, over many lands. It might take years, but they would always find each other."

"Like Plato's split-aparts."

"Yes. Two halves of one soul."

Blair let out a contented hum. Once, he would have thought that was what he and Jim were, or could have been. A vision of Jim and Alex kissing came to mind, and he realized that he had no idea what he and Jim were now. "Sorry, I interrupted you."

Hector continued. "But over time, the land grew noisy. Too many people, too many villages, and the calls were left unanswered. Sentinels searched for their Guides, and Guides searched for their Sentinels but many went to their graves alone. The few who found each other are spoken of in song and fairy tales."

Blair smiled again. "I'd like to hear some of those one day."

"You need only ask."

"Go on with your story."

"One day, a wise shaman decided that this could not go on. He started gathering the Sentinels in hopes that if enough were together, the call to the Guides would be sufficiently loud to be heard over the din of every-day life. He discovered that if five Sentinels gathered, the Guides would follow. They would appear and they could choose their Sentinel and complete the bond."

"Why five?"

Hector cocked his head to the side. "Five senses. Five elements. It is a number of great power."

"There are only four of you now. One of the Sentinels died."

"I wondered if that was so. I saw its spirit animal and knew it was ill." He looked around the room. "I imagine that is where my spirit animal has gone, to find a fifth Sentinel, so the call can continue."

"They'll do that?"

"Yes. Spirit animals also crave their lifemates."

Blair looked down at his wolf and softly caressed his muzzle. "What is your spirit animal?"

"She is a mantona."

Blair shook his head, not understanding.

"A boa. A Peruvian red-tailed boa," Hector boasted proudly. "She is very big, and very beautiful."

Blair grinned at him. "I'd like to see her."

"You will." It sounded like a promise.

Blair felt a little overwhelmed by the wistfulness of that promise. "Hector, I don't--"

Hector put his hand on Blair's knee. "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. It is the Guide's choice. I am merely telling you that I am willing. More than willing."

Feeling awkward, Blair brought things back to their current situation. "I'm not sure how Mr. Smith thinks I'm going to help you. You seem to have all your senses under control."

"I have spent all of my childhood with other Sentinels who assisted me."

"So do you really even need a Guide?"

A look of yearning crossed Hector's face. "Yes. I will not be complete without one. I have seen Sentinels who were successful in finding their lifemate, and ones who were not, and I would not choose to live unbonded. Neither would any Sentinel, if he or she could make that choice for themselves. There is a serenity, a sense of home with a lifemate. I see it in their eyes."

Blair had a hard time equating what Hector was saying with how Jim often treated him. But maybe it was him and not Jim; Blair didn't think he'd ever brought a sense of home to Jim, so maybe he was the wrong Guide. Ignoring the pain that thought brought him, he said, "Maybe it's because of what those Sentinels were taught that they want it. Jim never really seemed to need me, except when his senses went nuts on him."

Hector leaned forward and ran the back of his index finger down Blair's cheek. "I think your Sentinel is a fool."

"Maybe it was me. I mean, I didn't really know what I was doing, I made him do all sorts of experiments." Blair forced the rest of the truth out. "And some of them were just for me to gather knowledge, not to necessarily help him. He hated it most of the time and I still did it." The painful memories brought a lump to Blair's throat. "He said he didn't trust me."

"I still think he is a fool." Hector's voice was both kind and condemning.

Blair didn't want to talk about it anymore. His emotions were still so labile when it came to Jim. Before the last few weeks, he'd thought of himself as a fairly flexible guy, able to roll with the punches. But lately, it seemed like every punch knocked him to the floor. "Hector, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"You said you could sense John. Can you tell that there are other Sentinels around?"

He nodded. "Yes."

Blair frowned. "And it doesn't make you all territorial, sort of threatened?"

Hector shook his head. "No."

"And when you're with them, or with a woman Sentinel, do you have this need to, I don't know, like, to sort of, need to mate? Anything like that?"

Hector's heavy brow furrowed. "No. Why do you ask?"

Blair closed his eyes to hide his unhappiness. All the excuses he'd made for Jim in Peru seemed to shrivel up and blow away. If it wasn't Sentinel instincts that made Jim act the way he had around Alex, what did that leave? Blair didn't want to believe that lust alone would have driven Jim to kiss the woman who'd killed him. A sense of piercing loneliness wailed through his soul.

Hector touched Blair's knee, again. "I have made you sad."

Blair shook his head, lips pressed tightly. Forcing the words past the lump in his throat, he said, "No, it's all right."

"It's not. Tell me what is disturbing you."

Blair glanced up at the Sentinel, saw the compassion in his eyes, his willingness to help however he could, and Blair found himself just opening his mouth, the words tumbling out. He talked about Alex, about Jim, about dying, about finding them on the beach, everything.

And while every word hurt as it left his lips, it also helped purge the pain. This was the first time he'd been able to talk about any of this, to anyone. Jim didn't want to talk about it, and there really hadn't been anyone else Blair could talk to who wasn't too invested in Jim to see their way clear just to listen and be what Blair needed. When he was done, tears were streaming down his face.

Hector leaned forward to gather him up and pull him into a hug.

The growl turned into a roar.

Jim had just about had it. He knew Blair was in trouble. He knew something was wrong. He knew he had to find Blair, but no one was helping in any way that was actually constructive. He was about ready to start shooting the stupid animals if they didn't tell him something useful.

He saw the tip of a tail out of the corner of his eye and, turning his head, Jim let out a curse. He pulled the truck to the side, turned it off, and jumped out. He knew they weren't flesh and blood but the sight of his black panther and that stupid snake grappling in the back of the truck was a little too much to take close up.

Jim wished he knew for sure what it meant. He could guess and he didn't like what he was coming up with--another Sentinel was after Blair. He yelled at them. "Instead of fighting with each other, why don't you show me the fucking way to go?" Only the realization that he'd be putting bullet holes in his truck stopped him from drawing his gun.

A car whizzed by, honking at him. Jim flipped it the finger and almost wished the car would stop so he could take his frustration out on whoever was inside. He supposed it was a good thing the car kept going. He needed to get on the road again, but wasn't sure he could drive with his panther snarling and spitting just a few feet away. Jim felt its unease deep in the marrow of his bones.

When his phone rang, it scared the shit out of him.

He wrestled the phone out of his pocket. "Ellison."

"Jim? It's Simon."

Jim couldn't hear with all the ruckus, so he moved to the front of the truck, and then sighed when he saw a fox sitting there, staring at him. "Shit."

Another car sped by.

"Where the hell are you? Is that traffic I hear?"

Jim didn't really want to tell Simon where he was. He couldn't believe he was there by the side of the road in the middle of fucking nowhere, wishing his stupid spirit animal would just eat the damn snake already.

"Jim?"

"I'm about five miles from the Oregon border," he finally said between gritted teeth.

"Do I want to know why?"

"No."

"Shit."

Jim couldn't agree more.

"Did you hear from Sandburg?" Simon's voice held all sorts of wistful hopefulness.

"No, not exactly."

"I really don't want to know, do I?"

"You really don't."

"Do you need some backup?"

Jim cast a disgusted look into the back of the truck. "Simon, I don't even know where I'm going." He hated this.

There was a long silence.

Jim completely understood.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"I have no idea."

There was another long silence.

"Where exactly are you?"

"I'm on Interstate 5, about five miles past Ridgefield." The fox was winding itself around Jim's legs now. He heard a roar from the back of the truck and turned just in time to see the snake slither over the side and vanish into the underbrush. Jim smiled at his panther; he was sure it was smiling back.

The fox started trotting up the road. A shriek caught Jim's attention and he looked up in time to see a golden eagle swooping past, heading south.

"Simon, I gotta go."

"Jim, call me when you get to wherever you're going."

"I'll try."

"Maybe I should come out and join you."

"I can't wait for you. I have to go." Not wanting to hang up on Simon quite so rudely, he climbed in the truck, tucking the phone under his ear as he started it up and shifted it into gear. It was not the smoothest of starts, the truck jerked and almost stalled, but then it caught and surged onto the road.

Jim lowered his head to look for the eagle and saw a spot way in the distance--due south. Beginning to think that maybe he wasn't completely crazy, that the spirit animals would actually take him to Blair, Jim blew out a long breath.

"You still there, Jim?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Call me. I mean it."

"I will." With that, Jim hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat.

Hector spoke first. "I am pleased that you have trusted me with this confidence. I wish I knew the words to say that would ease your pain."

Blair let out a sigh. "Me, too." He leaned back against the wall again. "So, you never heard of Sentinels acting like that?"

Hector shook his head. "No, I am sorry."

"Yeah, me, too," Blair repeated. He ran his hand down the wolf's body, feeling comforted by its faithful presence. "What is the ritual you were talking about?"

Hector's eyes shone. "Do you wish to perform it with me?"

Blair sat up straight, abashed at his thoughtlessness. "Damn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--." He shook his head. "Sometimes I talk without thinking." He put out his hand, relieved when Hector held it tightly. "I just have to talk to Jim first, you know? If he's not interested, if he says no again, then--" Blair couldn't even finish his sentence.

It wasn't that he wasn't drawn to Hector; he was. And with Hector, he could truly explore everything it meant to be a Sentinel and Guide. But, despite everything that had happened, even with the distance that had been steadily growing between him and Jim, Blair couldn't imagine choosing someone else. It just felt wrong. He hoped he wasn't being a complete fool.

Hector squeezed his hand. "You are a good man and Jim is lucky he has your loyalty." He let go and then, half teasingly, half seriously, he added, "But, if he refuses you, or treats you badly, I will have to teach him a lesson."

Blair let out a strangled laugh, and ran a hand through his hair. "I might like to see that."

The door opened behind him. "Time to see the next one," Muscle-man directed, in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

Blair gave his wolf one last pat, sorry to be leaving it.

"Take him with you. He is yours."

"He'll come with me?" Blair thought that sounded wonderful. He glanced at Muscle-man and saw his look of confusion, making Blair guess that he couldn't see the wolf.

"If you ask politely," Hector teased.

Blair shot him a smiling look over his glasses and stood, attempting to send a mental request to the wolf. The wolf stood, grinning at him.

Hector rose to his feet as well, and Blair stared up at him, not sure what to say. He felt as if he'd spent lifetimes in this room and that he was leaving a different person than he'd been when he'd arrived. "Hector, thank you."

Hector smiled broadly, responding by giving Blair a big hug. "Thank you. You have renewed my hope that there are Guides out there, that they are good people, in need of their Sentinels. I will be waiting." His eyes left little doubt that he'd be waiting for Blair.

With a brief nod, one hand on his wolf's head, Blair followed the guard out of the room.

"I think I know where you're going," Simon advised, his tone unhappy.

"I'm glad one of us does," Jim snapped back.

"I just made a phone call, and the sanitarium where they're keeping Alex Barnes is in Hillsboro, which is about thirty miles from you, in the direction you're going."

"Fuck." Not that it surprised Jim. Of course this had to be about Alex. Of course it had to get even more complicated. The only thing he was glad about was that he still felt mostly sane. At least he wasn't having any urges to go back and empty his loft, or to kick Blair out of his life. In fact, if anything, he felt the exact opposite. He needed to find Blair and hold him tight.

"I'm on my way, Jim."

"Simon, you don't have to do that."

"Sandburg's in trouble, right?"

"Yeah," Jim answered cautiously.

"Then, I'm on my way. If you start going all wacko again, he might need some help dealing with you, let alone getting out of whatever situation he's in."

Jim tried to rein in his temper. "I'm fine, sir," he forced out.

"Right, I've heard that one before."

There was a moment's pause, and Jim was pretty sure he wasn't going to like what followed. For a brief moment he thought about tossing the phone out the window.

"Listen, Jim. I know you care about the kid, but I also know that things haven't been great between the two of you lately. If Alex is conscious and this is all some sort of trap, she'll use anything she's got to get between you. And, unless I'm wrong, it didn't take much for her to get you to turn your back on Sandburg the last time."

As Jim drove over the border into Oregon, the phone went out the window.

The young black girl glared at him. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Uh, my name's Blair Sandburg, and I'm here to help you, if I can."

She sent him a scathing look, which made it all too clear what she thought of his help, and exactly what he could do with it.

He tried again. "No, really. I'm not with them; I'm a prisoner here, too. I just know something about what you're dealing with, and I really can help."

Blair guessed she was sixteen or seventeen. Despite the presence of Blair and Muscle-man, she continued to pace the small room, her nostrils flaring to account for the new odors now pressing on her. She was dressed in navy blue sweats, the sleeves shoved up above her elbows, displaying skin that had been scratched until it bled.

The girl's feet were bare; her hair cut down so only a very tight curl covered her scalp. She had large brown eyes, with lashes thick and long. Her lips were full and, when she snarled, Blair could see that her front teeth overlapped a little.

When she started scratching at her arms again, Blair moved a little closer. She glared at him, but then she suddenly lowered her eyes and took in the wolf. "Is he yours?"

Blair nodded, his hand resting on the wolf's head. "He is." He looked around the room. "Where's yours?" he asked cautiously.

Her eyes grew suspicious again. "Where's my what?"

Blair grimaced a little and shut up. Maybe she thought the wolf was real. Maybe she had no idea that she had a spirit animal. But, then, it was odd she could see his. Maybe it was because he was a Guide. It bothered Blair that he knew so little. "Do you, ah, do you know why you're here?"

"Maybe you should tell me why you think I'm here," she challenged right back, clearly not willing to give anything away.

Deciding to go for blunt, Blair answered her. "I think you're here because you did something that gave away the fact that you can see better, and hear better, and smell better than anyone else around you. Maybe you were good at sports, or got great grades--"

She snorted at that.

"--Or maybe you used your senses to do something illegal, I don't know, but something gave it away. And the man who runs this place wants people like you."

She cocked her head to the side, again, just like Jim did, and Blair knew she was listening to his heart, to his vitals, trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

"I'm telling the truth, and you know it. And I can help you."

"Like how," she bit out.

He gestured toward her arm. "I can help with your sense of touch, so everything doesn't bother you, for one."

She scratched at her arm and then stopped. Her gaze bounced back and forth between Muscle-man and Blair, her eyes hard and untrusting. "Yeah, and then what?"

"You mean what else can I do?"

"No, after you help me. Then what? What happens to me? What do I hafta do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I said. What do I hafta do? And what do I get out of it? If someone wants me for something, I wanna know what I'm gettin' out of it. Am I gonna get paid? 'Cuz I ain't doing nothin' for free." She scratched her arm again.

Blair blew out a breath and then bit his bottom lip, thinking that Mr. Smith might have hit the bonanza with this one. Someone young enough and angry enough to be an Alex in the making. Determined to keep it from happening, he said, "You were given these senses for a reason. To help protect those who can't protect themselves."

"Hey, white boy," she responded angrily, "ain't nobody in my life ever did me no favors, and I ain't gonna do none for them. You want somethin' from me, you pay for it."

Blair stole a moment to think of Jim, of his integrity and decency and wondered how he'd ended up that way between his senses, his family, his experiences in the Army, and his divorce. Then he gazed at the black girl. Is this what Sentinels in this country were turning into? Angry girls who expected to be taken for a ride, or young men without a shred of humanity left within them? Blair didn't believe it, couldn't believe it. "What's your name?"

"Latisha," she answered sullenly.

"Latisha, I'm Blair. It's nice to meet you."

She just stared at him. Blair heard a noise behind him and realized the guard had left and what he'd heard was the door being locked. Maybe Muscle-man decided that she wasn't going to hurt him, or maybe he just didn't give a shit because it was time for lunch.

Blair gestured at the chair. "You mind if I sit down?"

Latisha shrugged. "Whatever."

Blair sat. "Listen, can we start over? I just want to help. I don't want anything from you except for you to listen and try to do what I tell you." At her look, he hastily added, "Just stuff in your mind, nothing physical or anything. I just want to help you feel better right now, and then maybe, later, if you want to, I can teach you more about your senses."

"Like what kind of stuff in my mind?" she asked, her eyes flinty, hands on her hips.

The suspicion in her eyes made Blair feel sad. He suspected too many people had told her to do a great many things she hadn't wanted to do. This girl and John needed years of therapy, not a crash course in being a Sentinel, only to be used and then discarded when they no longer suited Mr. Smith's purposes.

"Where did he find you?"

"Who?"

"The guy who brought you here."

Her chin lifted aggressively. "Juvie. What's it to ya?"

Blair pursed his lips. "You mean a juvenile detention center?"

She just glared at him.

"What were you in for?"

"Nothin'."

"Right." He scraped his hair back with his thumb and ring finger. "What did they say you did?"

"They say I tried to rob some old lady."

"Hmm."

Her chin rose again. "But, I didn't do nothin'. And even if I did, she deserved it, anyways. Stupid bitch."

"Oh, boy," Blair muttered, under his breath.

He drove for a few more miles and then remembered that Blair's backpack was in the truck. He reached for it and then, one hand on the wheel, he worked his hand inside, looking for Sandburg's phone.

Successful, he pulled it out and checked the battery. He smiled grimly when he saw that it was charged. Amazing, he thought sarcastically to himself, something is going his way.

He started pressing buttons. Simon was probably right; it probably would be a good idea to have some backup. Just in case. The phone barely rang before his boss answered. "This better be you, Ellison."

"It is."

"What the fuck happened?"

"I lost the connection," Jim lied. "Listen, as long as I'm heading that way, why don't you give me the address of the damn place." It would be a relief not to have to depend on Ringling Brother's Barnum and Bailey Circus to help him find his way.

Just then, as he was about to pass an exit, Jim saw a tiger sauntering down the side of the road, heading west. "Fuck. Hold on, Simon." Jim dropped the phone and shifted, jerking the steering wheel hard to the right. For a heart stopping moment, Jim was afraid the truck was going to flip over, but in a few seconds the truck settled back down, all four wheels firmly on the ground.

Scrabbling for the phone again, Jim put it to his ear. "Sorry about that."

"What's going on?" Simon sounded like he really didn't want to ask.

Without thinking, Jim started to answer. "I saw a tiger--." He snapped his mouth shut. After a second, he said, "Never mind."

"You know, if I lived a normal life, which I did, by the way, before you started up with this Sentinel gig, I'd be calling the men in white coats to pick you up."

"At least I'm going to the right place for that, sir." They could put Jim in the room next to Alex, and they could drool together. The thought of being anywhere near Alex made Jim's stomach hurt. If that bitch so much as batted an eyelash at him, Jim was gonna just fucking shoot her, and then go kiss Blair, just to even things up.

That caused another sensation in his stomach, but this one didn't hurt. It sort of felt like he'd gone over a hill too fast. A sort of free-fall sensation. Suddenly his panther was back and purring. He butted his forehead against the side of Jim's face, which, given his size and weight, essentially shoved the other side of Jim's face against the window.

Jim shoved back. "Hey, I'm trying to drive here, okay?" Then he realized that he'd touched the damn thing. Only the fact that it was purring loud enough to shake the truck convinced Jim that it was probably safe to touch it again. Keeping one eye on the road, the phone tucked under an ear again, he reached out and touched its flank, amazed at how thick and soft its pelt was. He'd never touched it before purposefully, not that he'd necessarily wanted to. Somehow it always seemed safer to keep his distance.

"Who the fuck are you talking to, Jim?"

Jim decided to ignore the question. "What's the address?" Simon rattled it off and Jim had to focus to hear through the purring. Then, from one second to the next, the panther was up and spitting and snarling at something that had just jumped into the truck bed. Jim looked in the rear view mirror and saw that the tiger had decided to hitch a ride. "Oh, for Christ's--, Simon, I gotta go." Jim disconnected, tossed the phone under the dash and pulled over again.

Thankfully, his panther leaped out the window, and joined the tiger in the back. Watching them carefully, this time deciding to stay in the truck, Jim realized that they weren't really fighting. There were lots of teeth and claws on display, but they mostly just stalked around each other, roaring. Jim rolled his eyes. "It's a damn pissing contest," he muttered under his breath.

He pulled back on the road. At this rate, he'd never get there.

She'd been talking non-stop for fifteen minutes about how it wasn't her fault that the old lady had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and didn't she know that old people like that should just stay home anyway, because they're too damn slow and deaf and stupid. And it wasn't her fault that the lady couldn't keep her balance and had fallen down, and yelled out loud enough for everyone in the whole fucking town to hear her.

And it wasn't her fault that her purse had gone flying and the wallet had gone flying even farther, coincidentally, right into Latisha's pocket, and wasn't that a miracle. And it wasn't her fault that a cop car rolled around the corner, and it was only because she was black that the lady pointed to her, because she'd only been trying to help. And life just wasn't fucking fair.

Blair wholeheartedly agreed with her. Life, as a matter of fact, right now, pretty much sucked. During her recitation, she kept scratching and intermittently wincing, the way Jim did when his senses were bothering him. Blair was pretty sure he could help her, assuming she'd listen. But this is where his quandary came in. If he helped her, she'd fit right in with Mr. Smith's plans.

All Mr. Smith would have to do is offer her money, or power, and the opportunity to shaft all the people in the world who'd done her wrong, and she'd jump on his bandwagon so fast, his head would spin. And Blair would be loosing a new Alex on the world.

Suddenly the room was filled with flapping wings and shrieking. Blair ducked down, covering his head as he felt a talon come uncomfortably close. His wolf moved in front of him, snapping at the bird, which Blair now recognized as a golden eagle. "Whoa," he said. It wasn't every day you saw a golden eagle, let alone in a locked room where there hadn't been one a second before. "Is he yours?"

Then Blair realized that part of the shrieking was Latisha. "Get it away, get it away!" She was standing on the bed, flapping her arms around her body as fast as she could, ostensibly to protect herself, but she looked like she was going for liftoff.

Blair had to bite back an hysterical laugh. "Latisha. Stop. It won't hurt you. I think it's your spirit animal." When he saw his words were having no effect, he stood and held out his arm. "You, bird, come here."

He felt a moment of intense shaman-ness, as the eagle came to roost on his arm. Blair was very grateful that, for whatever reason, the eagle's claws weren't digging holes in his arm. He'd have to remind Jim that layers came in handy sometimes for other things than just staying warm. "Hey, you're a beauty." Before he reached out to touch, he checked in with his wolf. His spirit guide was once again sitting on the floor, tongue lolling out of his mouth, looking completely unconcerned.

Blair stroked the bird along its neck. It blinked solemnly at him. Blair glanced up at Latisha, who was still standing on the bed, pressed into the corner. "See, it won't hurt you."

"Get it out of here."

"It's yours. It's because you're a Sentinel." Blair stroked the bird again. "This is a magnificent animal." He glanced up at the young black teen. "This is what you have inside. All this beauty, and power, and magnificence. Don't waste it stealing wallets from old ladies, for God's sakes. Be something wonderful." He held up his arm, displaying the bird. "Be this."

Latisha stared at him as if he'd just sprouted a set of his own wings. But she also had a funny look on her face as she finally calmed down enough to look at the bird. "He's mine?" she asked, as if not daring to believe it.

"He sure is. Isn't he beautiful?" Blair took a closer look. "Although it might be a she, for all I know." He smiled at Latisha. "Come on, come touch her, him, whatever."

She carefully made her way to the edge of the mattress, then stepped to the ground. The eagle just watched her. "Here, sit down, and put your pillow in your lap," Blair coached.

She obeyed him, and Blair sat down next to her, encouraging the eagle to step off his arm, onto the pillow. The bird complied with minimal fuss, and stared up at Latisha. Latisha stared back.

Blair left them to it, slipping off the bed to pay attention to his own spirit animal. The wolf rolled over, baring its white belly, grinning up at Blair. Grinning back, Blair started giving his soft furry belly a rub.

Latisha interrupted his love-in with his spirit guide. "When I was a kid, I saw this show once, and it talked about how the eagles were goin' extinct. How come I have one?"

Blair looked up, surprised by the tone of her voice. All the anger and defensiveness was gone. And what was left was a young woman who had suddenly been given something that was beyond her understanding. By the shine in her eyes, Blair thought it might be a gift beyond price as well.

Thanking all the Powers That Be, that maybe her spirit animal could do what he could not, he said, "It's because you're special. Don't ever forget that. That bird knows it. You think it'd sit like that for anyone else?"

"It did for you." There wasn't any jealousy in her voice, just a continuing wonder.

"I know, but I'm sort of special, too. I'm a Guide, I'm sort of the other half of a Sentinel."

"You mean like the other half of me?" She couldn't take her eyes off the eagle, and had finally gotten bold enough to stroke its feathers with her fingertips.

"Uh, not exactly. I mean, there's someone else out there, another Guide that will belong to you. I'm just here to help. I already have a Sentinel, sort of." Blair felt a moment's despair and then, in a burst of defiance, decided that it was true. If Jim didn't want him, Hector sure as hell did.

Her eyes flicked up to stare at him. "You mean I get an eagle and someone like you, just 'cuz I can hear and see good?"

Blair nodded, hoping it was true. Assuming what Hector said was real, and assuming the other Sentinels' spirit guides were out hunting for a fifth Sentinel, and assuming that if the spirit guides were returning to their Sentinels it meant that a fifth one had been rounded up, then there was a remote chance that the Guides would be coming. "It might take a while to find him or her," Blair decided to qualify honestly, recognizing that was a lot of assuming.

"Why didn't no one ever tell me?" She touched the bird again. "Why didn't I ever see it before?"

"I don't know." Blair wished Hector were here, maybe he'd know.

There was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal Mr. Smith. "Mr. Sandburg, a moment of your time."

Blair reluctantly stood up, hating to break up this sudden rapport they'd developed. "I'll see you later, Latisha."

She nodded absently at him, most of her attention still on the bird in her lap.

Blair couldn't help grinning as he left the room.

Jim thought it was bizarre they were all sort of getting along, on top of the already complete weirdness about everything. His panther had hated Alex's leopard; there had been no simple posturing between the two of them. If they'd been real, they'd have torn each other apart. Another quick look made Jim think that the panther wasn't crazy about the boa constrictor. He kept snarling at it, and then licking its chops, as if hoping snake was on the menu for the evening.

And that was another weird thing. Where was Alex's leopard? And where was the eagle and that damn owl? Jim wished Blair were here right now. His Guide would probably sell his soul to be able to see all these spirit animals lounging around together.

Assuming he could see them. Jim wasn't sure Blair had ever seen his panther. Obviously, he'd seen it when they'd done that vision-merging thing, but Blair had never acted as if he'd noticed it when the black cat had been prowling around the loft. It sort of seemed like something Blair would have mentioned if he had.

For that matter, Jim also had no idea if Blair's wolf was ever hanging around. He found he didn't like that idea. Not the hanging around part, but him not being able to see it part. He wanted to be able to see Blair's wolf, and not just when he was shooting it, or trying to bring Blair back from the dead.

And suddenly, there it was. Blair's wolf. Right by a gravel drive, under a sign that said Hillsboro Hills Sanitarium. Jim hit the brake and pulled off to the side of the road. He wasn't quite ready to just drive in and announce his presence.

Jim watched as all the spirit animals jumped or slithered out of the truck. When his panther moved to the wolf and butted heads with it, Jim felt such a longing for Blair that it brought a lump to his throat. Only the belief that he was only minutes away from seeing his friend kept him from leaping out of the truck and running to find him.

Brow furrowed, Blair shook his head. "I don't understand."

"I brought you here to help them, not to push them into psychotic breakdowns."

Blair was still mystified. He looked down at his wolf only to find that it was gone. Looking down the hallway, he saw no sign of it. Shrugging, he looked up at Mr. Smith. "I still don't know what you're talking about."

"Each of the subjects is talking to thin air, patting something that isn't there. Even Subject Two--"

"He isn't Subject Two," Blair objected hotly. "His name is Hector."

Mr. Smith kept talking as if Blair hadn't spoken: "--is exhibiting the same symptoms."

"They're not psychotic, they're talking to their spirit animals."

"Spirit animals." Mr. Smith spat the words out as if a bug had accidentally flown into his mouth.

"Yeah, spirit animals." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She has a golden eagle, Hector has a snake. I don't know what Amelia or John have."

"So you're supporting them in this delusional behavior?" Mr. Smith looked less than enraptured by the thought.

"It's not delusional. They're real. Just because you can't see them, or believe in them, doesn't make any of this less real. Most people wouldn't believe in Sentinels, but you know they're real."

"What I know is that I need these Sentinels to be able to concentrate on what I tell them to do, not have conversations with imaginary friends."

"You just don't get it, do you? These are beings of power, and I don't just mean the spirit animals. Being a Sentinel isn't just about having a genetic advantage. It's so much bigger than that. It's about being a protector, about protecting the tribe."

"Please spare me your hyperbole, Mr. Sandburg."

"I am dead serious, here. You're messing around with primal powers, with mythic archetypes. These people have a purpose, a mission. You saw what happened to Alex."

"Yes, she overdosed on whatever toxic concoction she made in the jungle."

"No, she didn't. Jim drank it, too, and he went into the pools, just like she did. But she lost her way, because she stepped off the path. Her senses were eating her alive and I think it's because she misused them. The same thing could happen to all of these Sentinels."

"Alex was able to complete several errands for me before she became unstable. She served her purpose."

Blair glared at the man. "You can't treat them that way. They're people. They're--they're Sentinels. They can make the world a better place, man, and you're treating them like disposable diapers."

"You tell him, white boy," a supportive and angry voice shouted through the door they were arguing in front of.

Blair couldn't help but grin at the door, even though he knew Latisha couldn't see him, but then he turned back to Mr. Smith, deadly serious. "Why won't you see this? Using these Sentinels to do your dirty work is dangerous. I can't even imagine the bad karma you're accumulating."

"I believe I'll survive the experience," Mr. Smith answered scathingly. "Perhaps I'm not making my expectations clear enough. I brought you here for only one reason, and that was to help these Sentinels get better control over their senses. It was not to help them find their destiny, or to have them all start babbling at invisible spirit animals. I would suggest you rethink your strategy or our working relationship will be coming to a precipitous end."

Blair didn't think that meant he'd be handed a pink slip. Despite the risk, however, he shook his head. "I can't do that. If I help you, I'll destroy them."

"Perhaps you need a stronger inducement, then." Mr. Smith turned to Muscle-man. "Sam, after listening to the conversation between Mr. Sandburg and Subject Two, I don't believe he will be of use. Please dispose of him."

Blair's jaw dropped in horror. "What? You mean kill him? You can't do that."

"Actually, Mr. Sandburg, you will find that I can do anything I want." Mr. Smith nodded at Sam, and Sam turned and headed down the corridor.

Blair ran after him, grabbing his arm. "This is murder. You can't just go in there and kill an innocent man, a good man. Don't do this."

Sam shook him off and kept walking.

Blair tried again, this time leaping on the man's back. "I won't let you. He doesn't deserve this, none of them do." Even as Sam was dislodging him, Blair kept pleading, "I work with the police, I can get a deal for you. I can keep you out of jail, but not if you do this. Think about what you're doing." He hung on like an octopus.

Finally Sam threw him off hard enough that he slammed into a wall. Sam continued his walk down the hall. When Blair found his feet, he also found Mr. Smith holding a gun on him. "I think that's enough. Sam has a job to do, and I'd appreciate it if you'd allow him to do it."

Blair shook his head in disbelief. He'd met a few bad people in his tenure with Jim, but he had no frame of reference for a man like this. Life meant nothing to him. Nothing. And because of it, he was going to win another battle; Blair couldn't let Sam shoot Hector. "Tell him to stop. I'll do what you want." He could hear the defeat in his voice.

Mr. Smith called out, "Hold on, Sam," and then turned a mocking smile on Blair. "I'm glad you're reconsidering."

"You will end up paying for this, you know," Blair hissed out.

"I look forward to it."

Jim found himself disconcertingly aroused. Not because of the animals, but because they were a visual reminder of himself and Blair. And that led to thoughts of the two of them wrapped around each other. This wasn't the first time he'd had thoughts like this, but watching their spirit guides together made it seem, so, well, so possible.

His panther suddenly snarled, and Jim was forcibly reminded that he was here to rescue his Guide. He brought all his senses to bear on that and the sudden deluge was both intoxicating and worrisome. Intoxicating, because he'd been denied too long the sound, smell, and sight of his Guide. Worrisome, because his Guide's heart was tap dancing against his ribcage.

Having no idea if it would work or not, Jim whispered to his spirit animal, "Go to him. Protect him."

As if the giant beast had always been his to command, the panther extricated himself from his tumbling partner and slunk off into the underbrush toward the house. The wolf sat on its haunches, watching Jim with wise eyes, reminding Jim of Blair.

Blair screamed at him, "You told me you didn't have Jim. Where the fuck is he?" He started advancing on the man. "If you've done anything to him, I'll--"

"Take another step and I'll shoot you." One eye on Blair, Mr. Smith gestured for Sam. "There is a possibility Jim Ellison is on the property. Please find him and bring him to me. He might be the best inducement to ensure Mr. Sandburg's cooperation."

"No!" Blair yelled. "Leave him alone." He flung himself at the panther, pleading, "Tell him to leave. Tell him to go and never come back."

The panther pressed close, snarling up at Mr. Smith.

He listened carefully and could hear Sam's footsteps walking slowly around the perimeter of the building. Jim decided he'd take him out, then go inside and get Blair.

Feeling the strength of Jim's panther behind him, Blair looked up to find Mr. Smith frowning down on him. "Mr. Sandburg. I am beginning to think that you are not worth the trouble you are causing me." He lifted his gun, aiming it at Blair's chest. "I'm afraid our partnership is coming to a close."

Visions of Alex swam through Blair's mind, of her pointing her gun at him, dragging him outside, hitting him, drowning him, and Blair suddenly found it hard to breathe. He wasn't ready to die again, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Jim wouldn't be able to command his spirit animal to pull him back from death if either his head or chest was blown apart.

He needed to move. He needed to move now. But as he saw Mr. Smith's trigger finger tighten, Blair was paralyzed. The panther started to yowl and he moved in front of the Guide. While Blair was appreciative, he didn't think a spirit animal Mr. Smith couldn't even see was going to stop a bullet.

There was a pounding on the locked door behind them, and Latisha yelled, "Don't you hurt him, you asshole! Leave him the fuck alone."

Suddenly, in counterpart to the young Sentinel's warning, the eagle was there as well, shrieking and dive-bombing Mr. Smith, its talons scratching his face, his hand. Mr. Smith cried out, slashing his arms through the air, fighting against an invisible enemy.

Blair used the reprieve to snap himself out of his paralysis, processing this new information. Mr. Smith might not be able to see the spirit animals but he could certainly feel them, and while the man was so thoroughly distracted, Blair needed to disarm him. But, before he could move, Mr. Smith started shooting wildly at his invisible enemy.

Blair ducked as the bullets started flying. Two of them slammed into and through the door and Blair heard a sharp cry, followed by the sound of something falling to the floor.

Risking injury, Blair quickly moved to the door. "Latisha? Latisha, are you all right?" When there was no answer, Blair yelled at Mr. Smith, "I think you shot her! Give me the keys."

Mr. Smith was in no condition to listen. The eagle was still attacking, even more ferociously than before, the bullets unable to harm it. As Blair watched in stunned disbelief, a fox joined the fray, darting in and out, nipping the man's shins.

His partner, Marilyn, stared at him. "What are you doing?"

Jason shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just know we have to go this way."

"Go this way, where?" Marilyn's hand was grasping the dashboard as the ambulance started moving way faster than recommended in the training manual. "Jason, we're supposed to be going off shift, they're going to need the ambulance. You can't just take it for a joyride."

Jason let out a frustrated noise. "I know that. Don't you think I know that? But--" He stopped talking and lowered his head to look out the top of the front windshield. "See that owl up there?"

Marilyn looked, squinting her eyes, but shook her head. "No." Jason slammed his hand on the steering wheel, hard enough to make Marilyn wince. This was not the Jason she knew. She reached out and touched his arm. "Jason, talk to me." While she waited for him to speak, she looked at him.

Jason was a good-looking black man, as solid as they came. He was reliable, honest, loyal, a veritable Clark Kent of color. Marilyn considered him a good friend and felt lucky to be his ambulance partner. But about a week ago, he'd started acting strange. Going for long drives with no apparent purpose, looking at the sky all the time, startling easily, losing his place in conversations. When she realized he still hadn't talked, she tried again. "Jason."

He scratched his short hair for a minute and then sighed. "Marilyn, I don't know what to tell you. But, I need to do this, and I need you to trust me. Maybe I'm going mental, and if so, I'm sorry you have a front row seat, but I think something important's going on."

Marilyn thought about it for a second. "You mean like Close Encounters of a Third Kind important?"

Jason flashed her a delighted smile. "Yeah, like that."

She lived for those smiles--not that way--she wasn't attracted to him in that kind of way. She had a husband at home that she adored. But Jason was a serious man, and when she was able to coax a smile out of him it always felt like a victory of sorts.

She weighed the weirdness factor against her friendship, and the crazy thrill of hope that maybe she could actually see an X-files kind of adventure up close and personal, and she nodded emphatically. "Then, carry on, young Skywalker. Go find your destiny." She looked out the window again. "There's really an owl up there?"

"Yeah. It's been following me around, and I think it wants me to follow it now." The smile slipped away. "But I think something's gone wrong, and we're running out of time."

She punched his arm. "Then move this bucket of bolts. We're got an imperial starship to outrun."

He gave her an incredulous look. "Are you on something?"

Marilyn laughed merrily, knowing suddenly she was about to become part of something marvelous. "Maybe, I don't know. I'm just feeling the need to let my inner geek shine." She looked at him. "Do you mind?"

He actually laughed. "No, I don't mind. You're a good person, Marilyn. Thank you."

The look on his face told her that he hadn't expected to be believed. She pointed an imperious finger out the front window. "Let's move it."

Jason nodded firmly. "We're moving." He pressed the gas pedal harder, and the ambulance shot down the road.

He heard a step and stopped all his movement, waiting. Sam stepped to within three feet of him, and Jim was on him with his arm around his throat, grabbing for his gun.

Blair wasn't quite sure what to do. He still couldn't quite believe that these animals could make themselves physically real enough to kill if they chose to. He was pretty sure that the animals would respond to him, and if he ordered them to, would stop the attack. Maybe it was because he was the only Guide around while there was a mystical convergence of Sentinel presence and power.

But because he knew they would listen to him, it brought it home fiercely that he also held the responsibility for these Sentinels. He was their Guardian. If he let Mr. Smith continue what he was doing, these Sentinels, including Jim, would continue to be at risk, let alone countless other Sentinels the bastard might be able to round up.

Blair had meant what he said when he'd told Mr. Smith that he was dealing with primal power, with mythic archetypes, and that his disregard for that would get him in the end, but Blair hadn't exactly meant it. At least not quite so literally. Blair winced as the eagle tore a chunk of bloodied hair out of Mr. Smith's head. Or quite so graphically.

He wasn't sure he could just stand there and do nothing, no matter how much he hated the man. Blair felt the division run deep inside of him--the man, who couldn't countenance killing, no matter what the justification, and the Guide, who knew justice must be done, who would protect his Sentinel, all Sentinels, no matter the cost. He wondered how often Jim felt this way. Wondered what would happen when he chose one half, and denied the other.

And just that fast, the decision was made, and Blair was on his feet, moving toward Mr. Smith, heading for his weapon, planning to disarm him. No matter what, he couldn't stand here and let a man be torn to pieces in front of him.

The panther sprang just as Blair got close enough to grab the gun. The force of the large body landing on Mr. Smith forced a terrified grunt out of him and he began shooting again.

The first bullet flew close enough to Blair's head to take off a curl or two; the second one creased his arm. Blair saw his death arriving as the gun aimed at his chest, knowing he wouldn't be able to move away fast enough, when a blur of grey slammed into him, knocking him to the floor.

Sam went down like a felled tree. He wouldn't be getting up again.

Jim heard bullets start to fly again, and the sound of Blair's grunt of pain shot through him, the smell of his Guide's blood making his own blood run cold. He ran for the building, listening intently for Blair's heartbeat. It was difficult to hear over the blood-curdling cries that were filling the air. Only the fact that Jim could tell it wasn't Blair making those cries kept him sane.

He ran to the front door to find it locked. Yanking out his gun, Jim shot the lock and kicked the door open. He ran down hallways and up stairs, following the sound of Blair's heartbeat, eliminating all the other sounds.

When he arrived at his destination, he came to a complete stop, his eyes having trouble taking in a scene that belonged in Rudyard Kipling's Jungle Book.

Blair was on his stomach, his forehead furrowed in pain and frustration. He was attempting to get up, but the large gray wolf sitting on him was making it an impossible task. In addition to keeping Blair down, the wolf was intermittently growling menacingly at the other man in the tableau.

The man was on his knees and Jim gave the guy credit for staying even that vertical, because most people would already be out for the count or running for their lives. A golden eagle was clawing at his face, and Jim could see that one eye had already been damaged beyond repair. A fox was yipping, zipping in and then away, every time taking a trophy with him, a strip of clothing, a small hunk of flesh.

And--Jim winced--his panther was doing his best to get to the man's throat. It was why the man wasn't even bothering to defend against the other attacks. All his energy was being used to protect his vulnerable neck. Something about the odd way he was moving told Jim that he couldn't see what was attacking him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw a tiger rou