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  He shifted again and felt Blair's head sag further against his arm before jerking slightly in prelude to waking up.

  Jim monitored his heart rate and waited while Blair fought his way back to wakefulness. "Hey, Chief," he greeted, after a few moments, "How're you feeling?"

  As he watched, bleary eyes darted around their surroundings without focusing and the look on the pale and drawn face told Jim without words, that for the first few seconds of waking the younger man was trying to piece together where he was and what had happened.

  Jim's concern grew as the seconds passed and Blair didn't answer him. He was still uncomfortable with the indications he'd picked up from his partner since the crash. Although he suspected his friend had suffered at least a slight concussion from the crash itself, with the rafters that had fallen on them during the night he felt certain a concussion was definite. He'd had trouble waking Blair during the night and even now, he was responding slowly.

  Finally, awareness replaced the look of lost confusion and Jim breathed a little easier.

  * * * *

  Blair had heard Jim's question but he'd been totally confused about...everything... for a few moments. His brain was refusing to function and for the space of a heartbeat he thought he must have really been drunk the previous night. His head ached, his body hurt and he had no memory of where he was or what had happened. He'd just decided that coffee would be a really good idea when everything fell back into place. The plane crash, Whittaker, the storm, the roof caving in...

  *Jim!*

  His eyes grew wide as he remembered Jim had been hurt during the storm. He blinked to clear his vision before looking up into the face of his friend.

  "I'm fine," he said a little too quickly, "How about you? How's the leg?"

  Blair looked down at the bandaged leg, holding his breath as he felt Jim's eyes on him.

  It was long seconds before the older man replied. "It's better, I think. Doesn't hurt as much this morning."

  Blair pushed himself to his knees and bent over Jim's outstretched leg. He could still feel the sentinel's eyes following him as he began inspecting the injury.

  It always made him nervous when someone was watching him but when Jim watched...

  Blair knew his partner could hear his heart racing. Jim had probably heard it as soon as he'd awakened to that brief period of disorientation. It had been a disturbing feeling until memory had returned. Then he had realized the dizziness he felt and the fuzziness around the edges of his vision were probably signs of a concussion. It wasn't the first time he'd experienced the unpleasant feeling. But this time Jim was hurt and he didn't need to be worrying about Blair. Besides, the anthropologist told himself, this would pass after a time. It had before. He was good at verbal slight-of-hand, he'd just divert Jim's attention.

  He continued his examination, nodding approval and keeping up a running dialog, "Good. That's good," he said with satisfaction as he saw the bandaging hadn't been a bad job considering he'd done it in the dark. "It's not bleeding," he replaced the strip of shirt he'd used and sat back, "Think you'll be able to walk on it?"

  Jim hadn't missed the diversion from his own condition Blair had used. He narrowed his eyes slightly, feeling a hint of anger and frustration toward his partner. Blair would downplay his injuries if he thought he was endangering them further. Jim knew from experience he'd done it in the past. He couldn't help but remember their trek through the woods to rescue Simon during the Quinn ordeal. When he and Blair had jumped from the cliff, Sandburg had cracked his head on a rock then had continued with a head injury, never uttering a complaint until he couldn't go any further. Jim still felt his insides chill every time he recalled the incident

  Finally, he sighed in frustration. He needed cooperation from his partner, not obstacles to overcome. They were going to have enough of a problem if Whittaker caught up with them.

  "Sandburg. Look at me." It was an order not a request but he didn't have time for Blair's rebelliousness now.

  "What."

  Jim held his temper in check at the curt response. "What aren't you telling me?"

  He caught a side view as Blair frowned, but didn't look up. "Nothing, man."

  "Sandburg."

  With a flurry of motion, Blair pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly but trying to cover it by pulling the tarp they had used as a cover off the floor to began folding it. "Come on, Jim. Let's worry about getting out of here before Whittaker shows up. I don't know about you but I, for one, 'do not' want to wait here on him and his buddies." He finished with the nylon cover and shoved it back into Jim's pack, being careful to keep his eyes from meeting those of his partner.

  Jim rubbed a grimy hand across his face in exasperation. It would be useless to argue with the stubborn man when he was in this mood. It had never worked before and it wouldn't work now. If Blair felt pushed, he would only withdraw further. Jim would let him put the conversation off for awhile but he intended to keep a close eye on him.

  He grasped Blair's offered hand for assistance and carefully pushed himself up onto his good leg, not at all sure this was going to work. He adjusted his weight as his partner pulled his arm across his shoulders and used his legs to push them both to a standing position. Jim felt a tremor run through Blair's body at the exertion. He shook his head silently in wonder. His partner was stubborn to the end.

  One step was all he managed. With the first hint of weight on the injured limb agony shot through his entire body and he collapsed back to the floor, taking Blair with him.

  Both men lay still for long minutes, Jim hissing as he tried to bring the pain back under control and Blair looking more dazed with each passing minute.

  "You okay, Chief?" Jim was finally able to ask between clinched teeth.

  "I..ah...Yeah...Yeah, I'm okay," he paused then began pushing himself to a sitting position, "How about you?" he moved to Jim's side and began examining the wound again, "Did you.....Oh...Man..." Blair turned away, spotting and reaching for the rest of the shirt he had used for bandaging Jim's leg the previous evening.

  "What?" Jim's voice was filled with pain as he tried to sit up.

  Blair pushed him back, "Stay still. You've reopened the wound. It's bleeding again."

  Jim eased himself back, leaning on his elbows as he fought to regain control of the pain. He was amazed at how fast the exercise worked this time and wondered briefly if it had anything to do with Sandburg hovering over him. He watched the play of emotions cross the face of his partner. "How bad?"

  "Not to bad actually. I think I've got it stopped again but...."

  "But what?"

  Blair shot him a look of slight irritation. "I can't tell if it's broken or not." He sat back on his heels and looked at Jim. "How's the pain? Got it under control?"

  Jim nodded. "Yeah. I have now." He noticed a strange look cross his partner's face. "Why. What are you thinking?"

  "If you've got the pain under control, why don't you use your touch to see if it's broken. Just to make sure I don't need to splint it a little tighter or brace it better."

  Jim looked doubtful, "I don't know, Chief. I've never tried that on myself."

  Blair shrugged his shoulders, "Come on. You use your touch on me all the time. Remember when I thought I'd broken my arm last winter? One touch and you knew it wasn't." He nodded, indicating Jim's leg. "Go ahead. Try it."

  Jim looked thoughtful for a moment then shrugged. "Why not."

  Blair watched with anxious eyes as the sentinel explored the area around the gash in his leg. Finally he sat back and nodded satisfaction. "It's not broken but it feels...funny...like something is loose inside. A ligament or maybe a tendon."

  A disgusted look appeared on the younger man's face. "Yuck."

  Jim's smile at his partner's response. "Yeah, yuck," he said then frowned. This was not good. If he couldn't walk, their chances of survival were reduced even further. He contemplated their options as Blair sat back and heaved a sigh. Jim recalled the second helicopt
er the day of the crash. Had that been Simon he had seen? If so, then the captain wouldn't be far behind Whittaker. But, how far? And would he be close enough to aid them? What if it hadn't been Simon?

  Jim rubbed at a growing headache he felt building behind his eyes. There were too many variables. They knew Whittaker was closing in. His and Blair's plan before had been to keep ahead of the thieves and reach help. Jim silently cursed this turn of events and watched Blair in concern. A familiar tingle had started at the back of his neck, the instinctive need to protect his partner was gathering strength.

  * * * *

  Blair continued to stare at Jim's leg without seeing it. His entire field of vision was alternately blurring and clearing, making his stomach roll. He felt his heart beat increase and prayed that Jim would think it was due to the stress of their situation.

  There were times when there were disadvantages to living with the sentinel. Jim's natural protectiveness towards him sometimes took precedence over everything else. Despite that fact Blair couldn't deny it felt good. It was a comforting feeling to know that someone cared about him that much. He knew Naomi loved him and he loved her, but there was a closeness that he and Jim shared that he'd never achieved with his mother. He had decided it probably had something to do with their sentinel connection.

  But now, Jim was hurt and it was the sentinel who needed protecting. Regardless of his own injuries, Blair had to make certain Jim's focus remained on their survival. What ever was wrong with Blair would have to wait until later to be dealt with.

  "Okay," he said finally, "walking's out. Now what?"

  Blair didn't realize he'd spoken aloud.

  Jim watched his friend for a moment. He knew Blair was covering. If nothing else, he'd have known it by the way he refused to meet his eyes. "We need a plan," Jim said finally and watched as the younger man's movements indicated he was already trying to formulate a plan for them.

  "Can you hear them yet?"

  Jim paused and concentrated his hearing. He filtered out the more pleasant sounds of the mountain morning, searching for signs of their pursuers.

  After a short time he shook his head. "No. They were probably held up by the same storm."

  "Good. That'll give us a little more time. Now..." Blair turned way and let his eyes wander over the entire area. His vision was thankfully clearing at the moment but the dizziness wasn't abating. He blinked and forced himself to his feet as his mind continued to race for solutions.

  After a moment he spotted a bundle among the fallen timbers just to their left. It took a few

  minutes but he was finally able to untangle a coiled length of rope and held it up proudly for Jim to see.

  "What are you planning?" the cop asked suspiciously.

  "I found some rope," he stated needlessly, grinning in triumph.

  Jim watched him carefully, "Yeah. It's rope. That still doesn't tell me what you're planning to do with it."

  Blair turned and pulled at two long pieces of two-by-fours as he began. "The Native American Indians usually had two camps, one for summer and a different one for winter. When it was time to move from one to the other they would use a travois," he explained as he continued wrestling with the boards. "Do you know, they could pack everything they owned, including their tepees in less than an hour and be on their way?" Blair's speech was delivered with rapid intensity, punctuated with grunts as he loosened the boards. "After they'd gone, you'd never know they'd been there. It was really amazing. They usually used horses to pull these things but sometimes the women....."

  Jim put a hand on the grad student's arm to halt his culture lecture. "Sandburg. What do you think you're doing?" His voice was filled with dawning suspicion.

  The younger man looked at the rope in his hand in confusion. He'd thought it was obvious. "I'm going to make a travois and pull you. It should be easy, now that we've reached the road."

  Jim looked at him incredulously. He had suspected what Blair was planning but actually hearing the words...he couldn't believe it. What was the kid thinking? Jim outweighed his partner by at least fifty pounds and the logging road Blair was talking about that they had reached was little more than a washed-out, rutted pathway through the woods. And to top off everything else, Jim had no doubt Blair was suffering from a concussion. He was in no shape to pull anyone, anywhere.

  "You can't pull me off this mountain."

  To his surprise, Blair grinned cheekily at him. "Maybe not, but you gotta give me credit for trying," he said, beginning to fashion a harness for himself.

  Jim's face turned into a stern mask, "Sandburg," he said forcibly, "I'm not joking here."

  Blair looked up at him, his eyes beginning to grow dark with determination. He knew Jim was serious, but he also knew he had to convince his partner of this necessity. There wasn't any other choice. He had to convince Jim not to fight him on this. "Look, Jim. I know this sounds crazy, man, but if you've got a better idea, I'm ready to listen."

  He saw a hint of a smile cross Jim's face. The man thought he was giving in. "Good. You've got to leave me and go for..."

  Sandburg's temper flared. "I said better, Jim. That doesn't sound better to me."

  "Dammit, Blair."

  "Don't 'Dammit, Blair' me," he shouted, rising to stand over Jim to emphasize his point. It wasn't often he was able to tower over the bigger man and he meant to take advantage of the opportunity. Fear for his partner, misery at his own injury and a desperate need to help, all combined in a heated flash of anger. Blair was determined to hold his ground. "I'm not leaving you," he stated forcibly, then took a deep breath to control the unaccustomed anger he felt.

  "Blair. Listen..." Jim was trying equally hard to control his own anger.

  "No. You listen." The anthropologist paused to calm himself before he continued in a steadier voice. "You want me to leave you and go for help."

  "Yes. I do." Jim answered quickly.

  Blair stopped all motion and stared intently at his partner. "If it was me? Would you go? Would you even consider going?" He waited only brief seconds before continuing. "Jim, man, I'm not stupid. I know it's not going to be easy but I also know that if they find you, and they surely will if I leave you here alone, they'll kill you. It's that simple. They've already found our trail so they know there are two of us. You said yourself they've already killed for these diamonds. One or two more bodies isn't going to make a difference to them," he paused for breath. The look on Jim's face told him the cop was still not convinced. "You tell me what choice we have? Do we stay here with your lone gun against at least three killers with God knows how much armament? I don't think so, Jim." Blair paused again briefly for breath, "Now. I may *not* be able to pull you off this mountain, but I *am* going to build this travois and I *am* going to try. You can either continue to fight me or you can speed things up and help me, but either way, I am...going...to...do...it."

  Jim stared into the angry blue eyes of his partner for a moment in shock. He and Blair had argued off and on from their first meeting. He knew the kid was prone to taking chances on Jim's behalf, but he couldn't remember hearing this much determination in the young man's voice, not even during their rescue of Simon and Darryl Banks in Peru last year. Jim recalled that Blair had used the same tone of voice when he had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was jumping out of the plane with him. He knew Blair was one of the most stubborn individuals he'd ever met but until this moment he hadn't realized the depth of his friend's commitment to his role as Jim's partner or his devotion to him.

  He shook his head. There were times when Blair could surprise him to no end. Sandburg had a will made of iron when he needed it and seeing the determination on the incredibly young looking face, he realized it was no wonder people continually misjudged his partner.

  Blair watched as Jim worked through the conflicting emotions. Despite his determination to stand firm, he felt a stab of guilt when a look of profound sadness crossed the sentinel's face. He knew it was hard for the cop not to be in c
ontrol of a situation but he also knew Jim was no fool. They both knew Jim's lone gun was not going to be enough to stop the killers on their trail.

  However, a little extra insurance never hurt and Blair wasn't above using a small amount of emotional blackmail if it meant saving his partner's life.

  "Come on, Jim," he coaxed, "You've been my blessed protector for a while now. It's my turn to be yours."

  Jim couldn't help but smile at that thought as he felt an immeasurable amount of pride in his young partner. He settled back against the wall and nodded as Blair began pulling together the items he'd need for the travois.

  * * * *

  Blair paused and rubbed once again at his eyes. The fuzziness he'd done his best to keep from Jim earlier was becoming more and more pronounced as he worked. After he'd begun putting the travois together, Jim had asked for help in moving to the outside of the tumbled down building with the excuse that he'd be able to lend a hand if Blair needed it.

  Blair had complied, although the strain of supporting the larger man had cost him. As he had turned back to his work he had barely managed to keep from stumbling when a wave of dizziness overcame him. He'd been thankful that his heart had already been beating fast when it occurred. Jim would never have considered letting him go ahead with the scheme if he knew how truly weak Blair was feeling.

  In fact, Blair was beginning to doubt his ability to pull off the stunt himself. The only thing that kept him going was knowing the alternative. If they didn't do something, they might as well plants themselves on the nearest log and wait for Whittaker to show up.

  He had kept up his running lecture on the Native Americans in part to keep his mind occupied, but also he hoped to be able to distract Jim from focusing on his head injury. There simply was no choice in the matter. They had to keep going.