Simon scowled as Daryl reached over from the back seat and twisted the radio knob, changing from an easy listening station to hard rock. The father pushed the off button. "Don't you think you should ask Jim before you change the station, young man?"
"Sorry." Daryl humphed and sank back into the seat, staring sullenly out the window.
"No problem." Jim said, making no move to turn the radio back on.
Blair laughed, "C'mon you guys, let Daryl listen to some music. Don't be such old farts!"
"Oh, so now I'm an old fart, huh?" Simon looked at Blair, who was occupying the other half of the back seat. "I'll remember that the next time someone asks what I'm doing with an anthropologist in my department."
Blair grinned and turned to the back of Jim's truck, digging through the camping gear and producing his backpack. He unzipped it and pulled out a portable radio and some headphones. Daryl was still staring out the window, ignoring the adults. Blair tapped him on the arm and handed him the radio. Daryl grinned and put the headphones on, tuning in the station he had wanted to listen to. "Thanks, man!" He cranked the volume up until the tinny sounds of the music reverberated through the small space.
Wincing, Jim looked at Blair in the rearview mirror. "Yeah, Sandburg. Thanks."
Blair shrugged, reached over to the radio and turned the volume down to a barely perceptible level, making eye contact with Daryl and nodding toward the front seat. Daryl rolled his eyes knowingly, and left the volume where it was, bouncing to the beat of the music.
Simon watched the easy give and take between Sandburg and his son, and felt a twinge of jealousy. Blair had developed an instant rapport with Daryl, something that Simon seemed to have lost in the last couple of years. Blair turned his attention away from the boy, adjusted his glasses and returned to the thick book he'd been studying.
"What're you reading, Sandburg?"
" 'Ancient Chiefdoms of the Tombigbee.' "
Simon frowned in distaste. "You have to read that for a class or something?"
Blair smiled, took off his glasses, and leaned forward, ready to regale Simon with a fascinating fact. "No, man. There's some really interesting stuff in this book. Did you know..."
"No I don't know, and frankly I don't want to. That stuff puts me straight to sleep."
"You don't know what you're missing. You should open up your mind."
"The only things I want to open are a tackle box and a cold beer." Simon closed his eyes and smiled at the thought.
Blair shook his head and opened his mouth to say something just as Jim pulled onto an old gravel road. "Who's got the map?"
Blair dug under some papers. "Right here, Jim." He started to unfold it.
"Whoa, Chief. Why don't you just hand that over to Simon?"
"That's OK, I've got it." Blair continued unfolding the map.
"Sandburg, I don't want to have to pull over and take it from you." Jim glared at him in the mirror again.
"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" Blair huffed as he handed the partially unfolded paper to Simon. "One little mistake.."
Jim snorted, "Little? I'd love to see what your idea of a big one is." He turned to Simon. "40 miles in the wrong direction."
Simon let out a long, impressed whistle. "That some kind of record?" He turned in his seat, "Hey, Sandburg, you spent time in the jungle didn't you?"
"Yeah..." Blair answered cautiously, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"How'd you ever find your way back out again? I'm surprised you aren't still there, making like Tarzan and swinging with the apes." Simon chuckled, amused with himself.
"Ha ha, Simon. The jungle is completely different from..."
Jim cut in, "...the forest? Nice try, Pocahontas."
Blair grumbled and buried himself in his book again, as Daryl, who had heard the exchange through his headphones, gave him a sympathetic glance.
Simon looked at the map. "You're going to want to go left at the next fork in the road. Another couple of miles up and there's a good camping spot near the river. The fishing there is supposed to be great!"
Jim watched the narrow road as he spoke, "Where did you hear about this place again, Simon?"
"Friend of mine over in Records. He comes out here every year and swears he bags the biggest trout you've ever seen."
"Sounds good. Maybe we'll get lucky and have a nice, uneventful weekend this time."
"Knock on wood." Simon looked around the car, but couldn't find any.
After a few minutes of driving in silence, Jim pulled into a small clearing on a hill overlooking the river. "This looks like it."
Everyone piled out of the car, stretching and enjoying the view after the long drive. As they stood looking at the river, the clouds parted and the sun beamed down on the water, making it sparkle like diamonds.
"Awesome." Blair smiled and bounced on his toes.
Daryl stood beside him, trying to act disinterested. "Yeah, I guess it's pretty cool."
Simon inhaled deeply, pulling in the fresh mountain air and stretching his arms wide. "Ahh. This is a very good sign."
They all stood, enjoying the rare sunshine on their faces until the clouds moved in again. Simon turned to Blair and Daryl. "Jim and I will catch the dinner. Why don't you two set up camp?"
Blair opened his mouth and eyes wide, giving Simon the "Are you for real?" look.
Daryl frowned, "Nice, Dad."
"It only makes sense. Jim and I are the expert fishermen here. There will be plenty of time for you amateurs tomorrow."
Blair nudged Daryl in the arm, whispering conspiratorially. "Expert fishermen, huh?" More loudly, he said, "Care to bet on that, sir?"
"We're on vacation, remember? It's Simon."
"OK. Up for a little wager, Simon?"
Jim shook his head at Simon, who ignored him. Digging a cigar from his pocket, he gloated, "Sure, if you're that eager to lose your money."
Blair smiled, "No. Not money. That isn't any fun."
Simon pulled out a match, grateful for the chance to light up after a long, smokeless drive. "So what are you proposing, Sandburg?"
"It's Blair. We're on vacation, remember?"
Simon growled.
Blair leaned over and whispered with Daryl for a few seconds. Daryl laughed and nodded his head in agreement. "OK, here it is: If Daryl and I catch more fish than you two 'experts' this weekend, we get total control of the truck on the way home. I get to drive, Daryl gets to listen to the radio. Also, losers have to break camp and load up."
Jim shook his head, "Uh-uh. No way."
"No, listen Jim, this is good." Simon put his hand on Jim's back and turned him towards the river where they spoke quietly for a moment. Jim laughed once at something Simon said, and when the men turned back, both of them were grinning.
Jim looked at Blair. "If we win, you have to obey my orders without question for the next week, and you have to clean the loft from top to bottom, which includes removing any ceremonial items from the living room."
Simon looked at Daryl. "Same goes for you. Obey me for a week, and clean your room."
Blair looked a little peeved at being treated like a teenager and his voice was tinged with sarcasm as he addressed Jim. "Hmmm, that doesn't sound even, Dad." He huddled with Daryl again. "OK, but if we win I also get to use the truck for my date next weekend, and Daryl gets to have a party at his house."
Simon imagined his small bachelor's apartment filled with teenagers listening to loud rock music and shook his head, "Not a chance on the party, son. Two friends and they can spend the night. How's that?"
"OK, but we all have to make camp. Deal?" The young man walked over to his father and held out his hand.
"Deal." Simon saw the brief smile on his son's face and felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. Maybe he and his son would be able to talk this weekend and heal some wounds.
Blair interrupted. "One more thing. We all have to agree." He looked at Jim. "No cheating."
Daryl looked confused. "Cheating?"
Blair covered his meaning. "Yeah, no stealing from the opposite team's stash, and no buying fish from some guy upstream."
Jim raised his eyebrows at Blair. "I was a better fisherman than you when I was in diapers, Sandburg." He shook Blair's hand. "Deal."
"Interesting visual, Jim. Thanks." Blair turned to Daryl, stuck his thumb in his mouth and reeled in a fish on an imaginary pole. The teenager burst into peels of laughter.
Simon regarded his usually sullen son with amazement. "How does Sandburg do it?"
"He must be in touch with his inner child." Jim said, swatting Blair as he headed toward the truck.
Simon snorted. "Possessed by it is more like it."
It took less than an hour to set up all the tents and gather firewood. When they were done, the guys split up. Blair and Daryl headed a short distance upstream while Jim and Simon stayed near camp. The clouds had broken again, and the late afternoon sun brought welcome warmth to the fishermen.
Simon lit up another cigar while Jim stashed two beers between some rocks in the river to cool. "This isn't exactly what I'd envisioned for this weekend." He looked over at Blair and his son smiling and chatting while they readied their fishing rods.
Jim moved slightly upwind to avoid the smoke and followed his gaze. "I wouldn't worry about it too much, Simon."
"That should be Daryl and me, talking like that." Simon cast his line out over the water, reeling it in slowly. Daryl broke into a gale of spontaneous laughter and doubled over, slapping his knee. "I wish I knew what Sandburg was saying to him." He looked at Jim hopefully.
"Don't look at me. I'm playing fair." He swung his pole back and cast the line into the water. "Besides, I don't need to listen in to know what he's saying."
"Really? What?"
"Sandburg is currently regaling your son with a true custom of some obscure Indian tribe that is so revolting that it would earn any teenager's respect." As if to illustrate the point, Daryl opened his mouth and put his finger in, pretending to gag. "See what I mean?"
"Yeah." He sighed and chomped down on his cigar. "I just wish I didn't have to be the bad guy all the time."
"It's your job. No teenage boy thinks his dad is cool. If you turned into Blair this very minute, he would just be embarrassed"
Simon sighed, "I suppose if Daryl is going to pick an adult to emulate, he could do worse." The two men fished in silence for awhile, before he blurted out, "It's just that Blair is so... so..." He couldn't find the words.
Jim smiled and nodded his head in understanding. "Look at the bright side. Blair is an intelligent guy. He studies hard, he doesn't do drugs. Aside from his tendency to stretch the truth occasionally..."
"Stretch the truth? He puts it on the rack and tortures it."
Blair's little embellishment speech was going to stick in Simon's mind forever. Jim smiled and looked at his friend, "Admit it, you like him."
"Yeah, I do. The kid got on my nerves at first." He chuckled. "Still does, actually. I'm just not sure I want Daryl learning obfuscation techniques from an expert like Blair. Who knows what ideas he's planting in my son's head? Next thing you know, he'll be running off to Timbuktu to study the mating habits of the yellowbreasted pigeon toad or some such nonsense."
"It worries you that he might become a scientist?" Jim raised his eyebrows at Simon in disbelief.
Simon bowed his head, "Well... It's just that I'd always hoped he'd become a cop, like his old man. You know, follow in my footsteps."
"Maybe he will. Right now I think he needs a little room to figure it out for himself."
They were startled out of their quiet conversation by a shout from Daryl and looked up to see the teenager reeling in a fish.
"All right!"
Blair stood beside Daryl as he reeled his catch in. "Nice and easy now...don't let it get away." He grabbed a net as the fish appeared out of the water, flopping on the end of the line. Glancing over at his partner and Simon, he grinned widely and pointed at the fish. He was so busy gloating he didn't notice it breaking free from Daryl's grasp.
"Get it, Blair!" Daryl shouted. The anthropologist quickly held the net under the trout as the teenager lowered it in. It wasn't a huge fish, but it was the first. They managed to remove the hook from its mouth without impaling themselves and stored it in a basket.
Daryl stood up beaming as Blair put up his hand and they jumped in the air and high-fived.
"Woohoo!" Daryl yelled.
Simon's voice carried across the distance between them. "Keep it down, you two. You're going to scare all the fish away!"
Blair said in a low voice, "They're scared for sure, now.", eliciting a chuckle from the boy beside him.
"I'm planning on listening to heavy metal on the way home. How about you?" Daryl asked with a self-satisfied smile.
Blair laughed. "I'm thinking of taking the scenic route."
Daryl put his hand down and they did a silent low-five, this time whispering, "Woohoo."
"I'm glad you came, Blair." The teenager said matter-of-factly. "Hanging out with Dad and Jim all weekend was going to be a real bummer."
Blair shook his head. "Your dad isn't that bad. Neither is Jim."
"Yeah, Jim is nice and everything, but they're so uptight, man. They've got rules for everything."
"Oh, man, no kidding! Jim has color-coded refrigerator dishes, and I'm not sure, but I think he irons his socks." He turned serious for a moment. "You should cut them some slack. They're cops, they live for that kind of stuff. Sometimes that's a good thing. It can save their lives." He paused and thought about all of Jim's house rules. "Other times, it's just anal."
Daryl snorted. "Dad is so strict, though. He won't let me do anything."
"I never met my father, but it seems like you ended up with a pretty good one. He wouldn't have all these rules unless he loved you."
"Did you have a lot of rules when you were growing up?"
Blair shook his head and pursed his lips, "Uh, no. Hardly any, actually."
Daryl smiled, thinking he had ammunition to use the next time his dad set an early curfew. "Well, you turned out all right."
"I know some people who might disagree with you on that, including me sometimes. Anyway, my childhood was, well...strange. And my mom is one of a kind. Besides, you can't compare parents. Your dad is a good man, and you're very lucky to have someone who cares about you like that."
"I know." Daryl grumbled, "I just wish he'd lighten up."
"I'd put in a good word for you, but I think that would just get you in deeper."
"You don't think my dad likes you, do you?" Daryl looked at Blair inquisitively.
Blair chose his words carefully. "We don't always see eye to eye."
"I heard him talking to Jim about you one time." Daryl threw his line out over the water again.
"I don't wanna know." Blair shook his head. "It's none of my business."
Daryl ignored him. "He said you drove him nuts, but he liked you. He was just afraid you would end up getting killed and he'd be responsible for it."
"Really?" Blair's interest was sparked. "What did Jim say?"
"That you were really smart and knew what you were doing. And that he wouldn't let anything happen to you."
Blair smiled. "He's had a hard time keeping that promise."
Further conversation was interrupted by a tug on Blair's line. Grinning impishly, he reeled in the second catch of the day and held it up for his competitors to see, then turned to Daryl for another silent high-five.
"Smartass." Simon grumbled as he looked at his slack line.
"I tried to warn you."
"Yeah, well remind me to listen to you next time."
The sun emerged from behind the clouds again, low in the sky now. It would be time to call it quits, soon. Jim felt himself relaxing, opening his senses to the warmth and the crisp smell of pine-scented air. No criminals, no danger, no explosions. Blair had been right, he needed this. They all did. Casting and reeling in, listening to the pleasant gurgle of the stream and the comforting sounds of Daryl and his guide's hushed, amiable voices, he could see why some people abandoned their lives in the city to live in isolated places like this. He felt a stillness and calm fall over him like a blanket. It had been a long time since he felt this way.
Peace was interrupted by Simon's exclamation, "Damn, they did it again!" There was no anger in his voice, only bewilderment.
Jim smiled. That made three. He looked down at the empty basket beside him. Lord, he was going to have to let Blair drive the truck home at this rate.
"Mmmmm." Daryl mumbled through the last forkful of fish, smiling at his father. "Cool dudes four. Old farts zero."
Simon raised an eyebrow at his son in warning. "Watch it now."
Blair grinned, squatting next to the fire and stirring the embers. "I was thinking about taking a hike tomorrow morning. Anyone up for it?"
"Sounds good, Chief."
Simon looked at Daryl hopefully. "Hey son, maybe you can teach me some of your fishing tricks while they're gone?"
"Sure, Dad." His tone did not sound quite as sullen as usual, his mood buoyed up by his fishing success.
Jim poured coffee into an aluminum cup and inhaled deeply. Everything tasted and smelled better outdoors. Things had been pretty bad at work for the last several weeks. He and Blair had both taken a good deal of abuse from Cascade's criminal element. Blair had almost died of a drug overdose, Jim had been kidnapped by an old enemy... He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. Blair had jokingly declared this an "angst-free weekend" and Jim was determined that it would be. Gazing across the fire, he saw that the anthropologist was sitting cross legged and seemed to be gearing up for a story of some sort. Blair always began to regale him when there wasn't time for it, and Jim thought he had rarely heard one all the way through. But this gathering, four guys around a campfire, bellies full of fish, cried out for a story and Jim settled back to listen.
Blair was in his element. He noted with satisfaction that he had everyone's complete attention. The story he told was of his own invention. It contained a little bit of African folklore, some Indian myths and a dash of the truth for good measure. For Daryl's benefit, he even managed to squeeze something gruesome into it. This was one thing he knew with absolute certainty that he could do better than Simon or Jim and he was enjoying it immensely. Taking them through highs and lows, creating tension and drama, he had them in the palm of his hand.
Time ceased to have meaning for the four around the campfire. After Blair finished, Daryl took over, telling a story that seemed to have been around as long as Blair could remember; a horror story about a man with a hook for a hand. When Daryl finished with a punch line that was meant to scare everyone, Blair screamed in mock fright and flipped backwards over the log he had perched on and succeeded in reducing the boy to hysterical laughter again.
Later, when Simon became sleepy, he and Daryl retreated to their tent. Blair took a short walk down to the river, guided by a full moon, and was soon joined by Jim. They stood there for a while, enjoying the tranquility. It was a cool, clear night, and a thousand stars were brightly reflected in the gently gurgling water. The anthropologist gazed up at the sky, picking out constellations.
"This is great, man." Blair finally broke the quiet. "I wish..."
After a few moments, Jim asked, "What?"
"I was going to say, I wish things could always be like this, but it's not what I meant."
Jim didn't answer, and another easy silence fell over them.
"I just wish that we didn't have to develop your sentinel abilities to save people from other people. You know what I mean? I wish that all we had to worry about was using your gifts to protect people from natural disasters instead of man-made ones."
"You want world peace."
Blair smiled, "OK, so I sound like a Miss America contestant. In my head I understand that people are driven by complex motives. In my heart though, especially at times like this when everything is perfect, I don't understand why everyone isn't striving for this..." He gestured at the expanse of mountains and forest visible in the moonlight. "...instead of expending so much energy creating new ways to hurt one another. The world is an amazing place."
"Not everyone sees things the way you do, Chief. You see a rock and you want to turn it over to see what's underneath, someone else walks past it and doesn't even notice it, another walks by and wonders if he can make money from it, and the next guy sees it and wants to bash someone over the head with it."
"That's pretty cynical, Jim, even for you."
"That's life."
"What do you see when you look at the rock?"
"A rock."
"Are things really that simple for you?"
"Not as much as they used to be... Not as much as I want them to be."
Blair knew that he was one of the things complicating Jim's life, but he didn't dwell on it. Jim had just opened up a tiny bit of his soul to Blair and he wasn't going to spoil it by asking stupid questions. He stood with Jim in silence until the chill night air became uncomfortable and then retreated to the warmth of his sleeping bag.
The next morning Jim awoke to the melodic chirping of birds and opened his eyes to a perfectly blue sky. He felt more relaxed and cheerful than he had in months. To his surprise, Blair was already awake, whistling while he donned his hiking boots.
"The gods must be in a good mood this weekend." Blair smiled. "This is an awesome day for a hike."
Jim looked around and, not seeing Simon and Daryl anywhere, wondered if they were still sleeping in their tent. He and Blair had slept outside by the fire, preferring the fresh mountain air.
"They're already gone, man. You outslept everybody." The laughter in Blair's voice suggested that he would never live it down.
Jim ravenously ate the bacon and eggs that had been left warming on the fire for him, wondering why he hadn't noticed them cooking. Perhaps he had sensed his friends preparing breakfast subconsciously and had recognized that all was well. Or was it because he felt so safe and relaxed here? Had he tuned everything out as he slept? That would be a dangerous precedent, but Jim felt good, so he pushed the thought away for later consideration.
Jim dressed at a leisurely pace, not bothering to tuck in his shirt. It felt good not to have to bother with appearances. "Hot date?" Blair's comment as he started to shave had stopped him cold. He put his razor away unused.
Jim let Blair lead the way on the hike, aware that if he set the pace it might be too strenuous for the shorter man. He was surprised to find that Blair was an experienced hiker and that his energy more than made up for his smaller stature. Blair did, however, stop frequently to look at things that caught his eye. He made a show once of stopping along the trail to turn over a rock and look beneath it. Jim smiled. Blair reminded him of one of his childhood friends at times like this. A real wiseass. Always joking and telling stories. He'd had the same uncontainable energy. He'd spent a few unhappy days sitting in a chair in the corner for going along with one of his friend's wild schemes. He wondered what Sandburg had been like as a kid. Probably much the same as he was now. The vivid memories of his own youth brought with them the sudden urge to put Blair in a headlock and give him a noogie, but he managed to resist.
Eventually, they climbed to a rocky outcropping overlooking the river and stopped for lunch. Blair walked up to the edge and looked over. "Can you see Simon and Daryl down there, Jim?"
Jim stood next to him and finally spotted the two fishermen. He chuckled to himself. "Looks like Daryl's caught another one."
"Ha ha! Oh, this is too good, Jim. Simon is probably freaking right now."
"No, actually he looks like he's having a good time." Jim spun around and looked at his partner. "All right, Sandburg, which is it? Are you afraid of heights or not? The last time we were in a helicopter together I thought I was going to have to mop your lunch off the seats."
Blair shrugged. "That was completely different."
"How?"
"For one thing, we were really moving, man. That pilot was all over the place. We were dodging between ships and skyscrapers, for crying out loud."
"We weren't even close to the skyscrapers."
"Close enough. Whereas here," He stomped on the ground with his hiking boot. "I'm standing on a nice solid piece of rock that, barring an earthquake, isn't going anywhere."
"And what about that time you told Taggert you couldn't go up on the roof with him?"
"Are you kidding me? He was going up there to diffuse another bomb."
Jim shook his head, "You're something else, Sandburg."
Blair looked hurt. "Look, man, I know what's important. I'd never lie to my friends about the things that really matter."
"I know. It's figuring out what's important to you that's the hard part. Aside from the thesis."
"That really hurts, Jim. Is that all you think I'm here for?"
"No. But when you talk about fame and book deals it makes me wonder." Where had that come from? Jim suddenly wished he hadn't opened this can of worms.
"I was just kidding, man."
"Were you?"
"OK, not completely. Sometimes I feel like things aren't going in the direction I dreamed about when I first found you. I've worked really hard on this, but I doubt I'll ever be able to publish. At the least, I won't be able to include everything I've learned. Because of you."
"You don't think I'll let you use what you've learned about me?"
"No. I'm not sure *I* will let me use it. You're my friend now. I have to think about what all of this will do to you. Face it, Jim, if I publish my research, *all* of my research, people are gonna want to know who my subject was. It isn't going to take Sherlock Holmes to figure out it was you. We've been practically joined at the hip for the last year. I mean, what other reason would I have for hanging out with a cop for so long?"
"I dunno, Chief. You're pretty good at confusing things."
"Yeah, but that will only work for so long. Once someone figures it out, people will be swarming all over you. They'll be curious. They'll want to do tests. They'll want to interview you."
"Assuming anyone believes it."
"Yeah, well there's that too. I mean, my thesis could very well end up in a dusty corner of a library somewhere." He didn't sound as if he liked that idea. "Then again, if the right person gets a hold of it, someone who really understands the implications of your abilities, things could blow wide open. I know the kind of man you are, Jim. You don't want that kind of attention, and I know I won't be able to do that to you."
"I appreciate that, Chief, but let's not jump the gun. You're not even finished with your research yet. We'll find a way to work it out. No big deal." He tried to smile reassuringly at his guide, but he wasn't convinced himself.
Blair began pacing back and forth. "Yes, it is a big deal!"
"Hey, look, if your research doesn't work out you could always become a cop." Jim smiled, trying to lighten Blair's deteriorating mood. He knew as the words came out of his mouth that he was saying the wrong thing.
Blair's voice rose. "You know, sometimes I think you look at me as someone whose sole purpose in life is to tag along after you and help you when your senses go batty. I'm an anthropologist too, you know. This is my life's work, it's not something I can or want to abandon. What I do is every bit as important to me as being a detective is to you. You're always giving me a hard time about conducting my experiments, but I don't do them to drive you nuts, I do them to gather data. It's serious, legitimate work I'm doing."
"Got that off your chest?"
"Maybe."
"First of all, if it seems like I take your experiments lightly, it's because I'm the subject of them. It's not something I'm particularly comfortable with. But, if I didn't take you seriously, I wouldn't allow you to do them at all. I don't humor people."
"I know that."
"Second, it's true, I don't think of you as an anthropologist anymore. I think of you as my partner. If I had my way, you'd be backing me up full time."
Blair had been looking at the ground and scuffing the dirt with his boot during the conversation, but now he looked up. "Really? Thanks, man." He looked away again. "I don't think I could give up my fellowship, though."
"That's why I haven't asked. I didn't think I needed to spell all this out for you, Chief."
"You didn't, really. Most of the time I know it...sometimes I don't." Blair shook his head and laughed. "That made *absolutely* no sense at all."
"Strangely enough, it did." This conversation seemed to be taking a lot of right turns, but he guessed that Blair had finally reached the core of what was bothering him. His friend just needed some reassurance. In a way, he could understand Blair's insecurity perfectly. This last year hadn't exactly taken the direction he'd expected, either.
Blair sighed and looked up at Jim, coming full circle to what had started the conversation. "I don't lie to you, man. Sometimes I exaggerate about stuff, but I don't lie to you. I was scared in that helicopter, and I was nervous about going up on the roof with Joel, so I embellished. It's how I cope."
Blair rarely opened up like this, and Jim was going to take advantage of it. "Do you regret working with me? I put you in a lot of dangerous situations."
"If I regretted it, I'd be long gone, man. Honestly, I don't like being in the middle of gunfire, and if I'm never kidnapped or hit over the head again I'll die happy, but I realize there's inherent danger in working with you and I accept it."
Jim decided to test Blair's pledge of honesty. "So you've never thought of quitting?"
"Yeah. Lots of times. The closest I came was Lash. My bags were packed, man."
"What changed your mind?" Jim was sorry that he'd asked. Just as Blair was coming out of his funk, he'd reminded his friend of what was probably the most traumatic incident in his life. Well, maybe he needed to talk about that, too.
"You. You found me in time. I knew I was going to die, man. I mean, I really *knew* it. I was alone for a long time before he took me up to his...altar, lair, whatever the hell it was. All I could think of was that my mom would end up seeing the forensics pictures of my dead naked body and that you'd blame yourself for my murder." Blair cleared his throat. "I was also really pissed off. I didn't like being totally helpless like that. I was hoping that after I was dead you'd find the sonofabitch and put a bullet between his eyes for me." Blair seemed to be embarrassed by the vehemence of his last statement. He'd never spoken much about the incident before now, but maybe enough time had passed that he could. Jim knew that Lash had inflicted some deep psychological wounds on his friend. "But then, you were there, and I was, like, 'Wow, man, he saved my life.' For the first few days after that I was completely freaked and I just wanted to chuck the whole thing and go back to teaching where it was safe... Then I figured leaving would be, like, totally ungrateful."
"Ungrateful?"
"Yeah. I hadn't been with you that long and I didn't know you that well. But you had risked your life to save me anyway, and I thought leaving you when you still needed me would be like a slap in the face."
"And now?"
"Now I want to stay because you're my friend, and I know I can trust you to watch out for me. I mean, I realize that I could still get killed doing this. I'm always making dumb mistakes. But even if something did happen, you'd take care of it. You know what I mean?"
"What, avenge you?" Jim was smiling in spite of himself. Blair always started to babble like this when he wasn't sure how to say what he was feeling.
"Sure." Blair grinned up at him. "You would, wouldn't you?"
Jim rested his hand on Blair's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Sure, Chief. We OK now?"
"Yep." His friend visibly relaxed. "Much better. Good until the next rigged elevator at least." Blair giggled. "So much for an angst-free weekend."
"As long as we're venting, I've been meaning to talk to you about something..."
"Uh-oh...I hope there's no color-coding involved."
"No. It's about Peru."
Blair's eyes lit up. "You're going to tell me!" He was practically jumping out of his skin, now. "You know, I've had this feeling that this whole sentinel thing is more important than just a thesis or our friendship. There's more going on here than just genetically heightened senses."
"There is."
"So what happened?"
Jim stiffened and opened up his hearing.
"What?"
"Shhh...." He'd heard something that had set off warning bells. Now he'd lost it and needed to find it again. Glancing over the ridge, he saw that Simon and Daryl were still happily fishing below. He began methodically removing sounds from his consciousness until he picked it out. "Kids. Crying. I think they're lost."
"Where? How many?"
Jim turned slowly as he listened, trying to pinpoint a direction. "East. Two of them. One of them is very young."
"Let's go, man." Blair started down the path.
"Not so fast, Chief. Once we get down into the forest again it's going to be a lot harder for me to hear them. Up here it's pretty clear. I need to try to get a fix on them now, before we go."
Blair shrugged off his backpack and dug around until he came up with his phone.
"We're out in the middle of nowhere and you've got a cell phone in your backpack?" Jim couldn't believe he'd thought to bring it.
"Never leave home without it. At least, not since I met you." They were far out of range, but they were also high above the tree line, and by an amazing stroke of luck, Blair was able to get through. He quickly dialed information for the Park Ranger's number and asked if there were any missing kids reported. Two little girls had wandered away from their campsite just a few hours ago, was the reply. Blair told them that he'd caught sight of two kids to the east of his location with his binoculars and that they should concentrate their search there.
"What binoculars would those be?" Jim asked as soon as Blair hung up.
"The ones in your head, stupid."
"Ahh. I tried, but the forest cover is too thick. I think I've got a good idea where they are, though. They're moving, but once I'm in the general area, I should be able to find them easily."
"*I*?"
"I thought maybe you should head back down to camp and let Simon know what's going on. This could take a while."
Blair looked Jim directly in the eye. "No."
Jim couldn't think of a good argument against Blair going. This was not a dangerous situation, and he would probably need his guide's help to find the kids. "OK, lets get going then."
Jim took the lead, but didn't open up his senses. He knew where he was going, and trying to sense the kids now would just slow him down. Blair did a good job of keeping up with him, although as he'd suspected this morning, his pace was faster than the one Blair would have set. Jim tried to stop once, telling Blair that he needed to eat something, but his partner would have none of it. Blair was worried about the kids, and he considered his own exhaustion inconsequential. It took two hours before Jim finally stopped and began to focus.
"I can't believe you heard them from that far away."
"Voices carry. Besides, we've been doing quite a bit of vertical traveling, we really haven't covered that much distance."
"Still.." Blair pulled out his notebook and jotted something down. "Can you hear them?"
"Not with your gums flapping, Sandburg." Jim closed his eyes and listened for the voices he had imprinted in his mind earlier. One of the kids was named Claudia, he hadn't heard the name of the other. As with many places that people perceived to be peaceful and quiet, the forest was full of noises. The wind blew through the evergreens, insects buzzed, animals moved, birds called and branches creaked. Through it all, Jim picked out the voices of two small children. They were no longer crying, and the older child had taken it upon herself to reassure the younger one. The natural resilience of kids never ceased to amaze Jim. Even in the direst circumstances, many kids were still able to hold out hope. It occurred to him that the same could be said of Blair.
In the opposite direction he could hear the far away shouts of a search party. He and his guide would reach the kids first. "Not far now."
Blair breathed a sigh of relief. When they had traveled another quarter of a mile, Jim stopped again and abruptly changed direction, walking into a little clearing and almost stumbling over two little girls. The older was no more than eight, the younger about five or six. They looked startled and frightened by the sudden appearance of the two men.
Blair broke the silence. "Hi girls."
Jim instinctively stayed where he was, not wanting to scare them any more than they already were. No doubt they had received a lecture from their mother about talking to strangers. He suddenly wished he'd shaved this morning.
Blair squatted down next to them. "There are a lot of people out looking for you. Would you like us to help you get back to your mom and dad?" The youngest one smiled and nodded her head. They were both a little dirty and clutched each others hands tightly, but otherwise appeared to be fine. "My name is Blair and this is my friend, Jim. He's a policeman, and he's very good at helping lost kids."
Jim smiled encouragingly. "Hi girls."
The oldest finally spoke. "Really?", she asked Jim. "You're really a policeman?"
Jim pulled out his wallet, squatted down and held out his badge so that she could see it. "Yep, I really am."
Tears welled up in the girl's eyes. "We're lost."
Blair reached out and squeezed her arm gently. "Not anymore, kid. How ya doing? Are you hungry? 'Cause I have some awesome peanut butter and sprout sandwiches in my pack." The smallest scrunched up her nose. Blair grinned. "Just kidding. I like 'em, but my partner has a weak stomach." He dropped to the ground and sat Indian style as if it were just a casual picnic, digging through his backpack until he found a squeeze bottle of water and handed it to the oldest girl. "Here's some water, anyway. That shouldn't gross you out too much. So you haven't told us your names yet."
Jim was impressed with Blair's ability to put these frightened children at ease almost instantaneously and decided to let his partner take the lead in this part of the rescue, melting into the background and observing. This was how Blair spent much of his time with Jim, he realized. As the younger man spoke with the children, they relaxed enough to reveal their names. The oldest was Claudia, as Jim already knew, and the youngest was named Christina. Blair produced two apples from his pack. While the girls ate they told their story. Christina had seen a rabbit and chased it into the woods. Claudia had seen her and gone after her because she knew they weren't supposed to go off alone, but when Claudia finally caught up to her sister, they were completely lost. Judging by the time that Blair had told him the girls were missed, they'd been wandering in the woods for at least eight hours. It was lucky that the day was relatively warm and both kids had jackets on. After they had finished their apples, Blair declared that it was time to get moving, telling them that Jim was famous the world over for finding lost parents. Since they were exhausted, Jim and Blair gave them piggy back rides. Jim took a longer, less rough path. He didn't think they wanted to do much climbing with kids on their backs. It didn't take long to find the search party. They had followed Blair's directions and were already in the area. Jim shouted for them when they were within hearing distance and soon the girls were reunited with their frazzled looking father.
The man was guilt-ridden and relieved to find his children well and in reasonably good spirits. Blair fabricated a believable story about how he and Jim had found the kids, and they all trekked back to the camp where the search was being conducted. There they endured hugs from the girls' mother and repeated requests that they stay and have a cookout with the family. Jim wasn't overjoyed at the thought. At least three families were camping together, and he'd counted almost a dozen children, all screaming and laughing at the tops of their lungs. Jim's eardrums were buzzing painfully. The chaos explained how the little girls hadn't been missed right away. He made his excuses, and one of the park rangers gave Jim and Blair a lift back to their camp. Simon and Daryl came running up to them as they got out.
"Where have you guys been? We were ready to send out a search party."
Blair grinned. "We *were* the search party, man." Breathlessly he told them the story, inferring to Simon that Jim had used his abilities without saying anything that would make Daryl curious.
Simon laughed. "Leave it to you two to turn a simple camping trip into an episode of Rescue 911."
They thanked the ranger for the lift and walked slowly back to camp. Jim looked at Blair, who was smiling happily. "You got your wish, eh Chief?"
"What's that?"
"Using my sentinel stuff to help someone who wasn't connected with a crime."
"Yeah, that was great, man. Can you imagine what would have happened to those poor kids if you hadn't been around? It could have been days before anyone found them."
"You were pretty good with those little girls. Put them at ease right away. They probably would have run away from me."
Blair gave Jim a sidelong glance, beaming. "Probably. So, have you ever thought of a career as a forest ranger?"
"Yep."
"Seriously?"
"Uh-huh."
"So you gonna tell me about it?"
"Maybe later." Jim gestured ahead and put his hand on Blair's back, propelling him towards camp. Their companions stood next to the campfire. Daryl was holding up two large trout. Simon spread his hands out in an empty gesture.
"Ha! This is gonna be, like, a total close-out! Ohhh, you guys are never gonna live this down." Blair walked over to Daryl and high-fived him.
Daryl hadn't felt this happy in ages. He was one-upping his dad big time with all the fish he had caught, but his dad hadn't yelled at him for it once. Hanging out with Blair was cool, too. He kept going over all the gross stories he'd been told, trying to memorize them so that he could whip them out on his friends at school Monday. Then Blair and Jim had rescued some little girls in the woods. He was kinda disappointed about that. He wished he'd been there to help.
Dad was the most amazing thing. He'd hardly shouted all weekend. Well, maybe part of it was because Daryl hadn't been trying to make him mad. The urge to strike back at his father had faded over the weekend. How long had he been angry at Dad for divorcing Mom? He knew it wasn't his dad's fault, but it seemed like he couldn't help himself. After he'd said something mean to him or done something wrong, he always felt bad, but it seemed like he couldn't control it. Every time Dad tried to have a 'serious' talk with him, it just made him angry. But for some reason he didn't need to get mad this weekend, and Dad didn't either.
Dad and Jim were laughing about something when Daryl felt the urge to belch. Usually Dad wanted him to behave like a gentleman, but heck, they were in the woods. He couldn't get upset. Barely stifling his giggles, he commanded, "Quiet, everybody.", and then let loose.
Blair appraised his performance and declared it "Impressive."
"Your turn."
"OK." Blair took a long swallow of beer.
"Look at him." Simon shook his head. "The man has no honor. He's cheating in a belching contest."
Blair raised one eyebrow at Simon, then opened his mouth and burped out the word, "Sorry."
"OK, Dad, your turn."
"Amateurs, the both of you." Simon readjusted himself in his seat and then inhaled deeply, letting out a deep bellow of a belch.
Daryl wasn't sure if Jim would want to take part. He always seemed like he was above things like this, but he decided to ask anyway. "Jim?"
All eyes were on Jim now, waiting expectantly. The man was looking at all of them with a face made of stone. Blair and his dad must both be wondering as much as he was if Jim would actually do it. Finally, after a few quiet seconds, Jim sighed, rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, letting out the loudest, wettest sounding burp Daryl had ever heard in his life. He started laughing hysterically.
"Whoa!" Blair didn't seem to be expecting it either, because he spit out his beer and doubled over in laughter, cradling his stomach with both arms.
Daryl barely choked out. "Get any on you?" It sent his father over the edge, and he joined them in hiccups of laughter. Jim just sat there, looking just like he had a moment before, except now Daryl swore he could see the corners of his mouth turned up a , there was a definite twinkle in his eyes. When the giggling finally slowed down, Daryl's face ached. "Jim wins, man. That was *so* gross!"
Jim finally chuckled. "Thank you Daryl. It means a lot coming from a master like yourself."
Blair sighed happily, and used his shirt to wipe beer and tears from his face. "Ahhh. That reminds of a tribe in the Amazon...."
Daryl turned and smiled at his dad, then moved and sat next to him, using a log as a backrest. His dad stretched his arm out along the log, and rested a hand casually on his shoulder. Daryl didn't shove it away, but instead relaxed and settled back to listen to the story.
Blair awoke to another beautiful day and was slightly bummed by the fact that they would have to leave early in the afternoon to go back to Cascade. It had been a great weekend, and not just because of the weather. Jim had opened up to him a little, and they had aired out some things that had been bothering both of them. Well, maybe he had aired more than Jim, but it was a minor miracle that the sentinel had opened up at all. Blair felt as if he were on more solid ground with his partner. All he had to do now was find an appropriate time to bring up Peru again. It was driving him nuts, not knowing what had happened, but he was hesitant to come right out and ask. Sometimes direct questions caused Jim to clam up.
He watched Jim climb out of his sleeping bag and yawn, looking around in wonder. "I outslept all of you again?"
Simon poured him a cup of coffee and handed it to him. "Yeah, Daryl's already down by the water, trying to find a better fishing spot."
"He needs a better one?" Jim stretched, yawned again and took the coffee.
"In some ancient tribal cultures, if a Sentinel fell asleep at his post, he was brought before the Chief and the rest of the tribe and ceremonially decapitated." Blair had been hoping for an opportunity to use that little tidbit of information.
Simon chuckled. "I guess that job would fall to me." Blair picked up a long stick with three prongs on the end and hefted it in his hand. "What the hell is that, Sandburg?"
It was Jim's turn to laugh. "That would be his Cree Indian fishing spear, Simon."
Blair raised an eyebrow at Jim, remembering the last time they'd discussed this. "Yes, and the only laughing you'll hear will be from Daryl and I as we win this little fishing competition. I figured I'd try this out, seeing as we're up by six fish and you two haven't caught anything yet."
"The day is still young." Simon stood and gathered his fishing gear. "I saw a sweet little spot up river that looks perfect, Jim. We'll have them beat before they know what hit them."
Jim regarded the spear. "So, how do you plan on getting the fish to hold still long enough for you to impale them with this thing?"
"They don't have to hold still. It's all a matter of patience, speed and good hand-eye coordination."
"There are reasons man invented the fishing pole, Chief. Not wanting to use a spear is probably one of them."
Blair gave him a look of disgust. "You have absolutely no imagination, man." Jim just smiled at him, so Blair gathered his gear and headed for the river to find Daryl.
Blair closed his eyes, took a deep breath of sharp fresh air and then opened them again. He gazed calmly at the water, looking for any sign of movement and kept very still, barely breathing. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Daryl sitting on the bank of the river, watching him intently while tapping his foot in time with the music in his headphones. Blair had been holding the spear poised above the water for ten minutes now and his arm was getting tired, but he was determined to catch a fish and prove Jim wrong. He loved the guy, but sometimes he was infuriatingly closed to trying new things.
Movement caught his eye and his heart leapt. Steadying himself, he prepared to strike. He imagined what it would have been like, long ago, to be fishing like this in order to provide food for the tribe. Just man against nature and the primal urge for survival. The fish traveled toward him, unaware of his presence, absorbed in its own quest for food. Blair raised his spear a little higher, waiting for his prey to move closer, feeling the adrenaline rushing through him at the excitement of possible success. Now it was almost in front of him. His timing couldn't be off or he would miss completely. The trout cruised towards his legs, unknowing. Blair was barely aware of the war cry that issued from his throat as he plunged the spear downward, causing water to splash up and obscure his view. He had it! He could feel the fish struggle against the spear for a moment and then become still, unable to fight against the prongs that impaled it. For a moment, he thought about the brutality of what he had done, but then realized that it was over for the fish more quickly than a long, drawn out battle with a hook. Not only did it require more skill to use the spear, making the hunt more satisfying, but it was probably more humane as well.
Blair saw his triumphant grin reflected in Daryl's face as the young man rushed up to him. "Cool, man! You did it!"
"Hee hee, yeah. I can't believe it, man. Jim and Simon are gonna have a coronary when they see this." He flipped the spear over and eyed his trophy with satisfaction..
"Let me show 'em."
Blair handed the spear to Daryl. "Sure." He watched as the teenager took off at a run around the bend of the river where the older men were trying to catch at least one fish. Gazing at the mountains, he saw the beginnings of a storm system. He'd probably be driving home in the rain.
Now that the excitement had worn off, he could feel the pain in his muscles caused by staying in one position too long. Rolling his shoulders, he walked to the edge of the river, retrieved a beer and stretched out on the bank, absorbing the warmth of the sun that had blessed them most of the weekend. Taking a swig of beer, he leaned back on his elbows, tilted his face upwards, and emptied his mind of thought, mentally repeating a soothing mantra. Concentrating on the sounds and smells of nature and the gentle breeze that caressed his face, he achieved a state that was close to absolute peace. If he concentrated just so on the sounds made by the insects, he could pick out a constant rhythm. It was almost musical. Naomi had taught him how to do this when he was very young, and it was one of the things he'd be forever grateful to her for. It always put things in perspective for him. He made a mental note to call his mother when he got back and find out what she was up to and where she was headed next.
Splashing in the water announced Daryl's return. "So, did they catch anything yet?" Blair asked, without opening his eyes.
"No. Can you believe it? Ever since I was a little kid they always caught at least one fish on these trips. Usually a lot more."
"Must be karma."
Daryl gingerly removed the fish from the spear and dropped it in the basket. "They couldn't believe you did it! My dad looked like he was gonna have a seizure." Daryl chuckled to himself and then plopped down on the bank next to Blair. "Let me have a swig of that beer, Blair."
"Unh-uh. It's not worth my life man."
"C'mon, please. We're clear around the bend from them, they can't see us."
"Normally, I'd say no problem, but..."
"C'mon, I won't tell."
"Trust me Daryl, this kind of trouble, I don't need." Blair pictured Simon's reaction if he caught them, and shuddered, his state of peace momentarily disrupted.
"Awww, man."
"Why don't you ask him for a sip of his. Maybe he'll surprise you."
"That'll be the day."
"Yeah, you may be right. Ask him when you're 18." Blair sat up and saw Daryl twirling the spear absently in his hands, looking at the pronged end. "Why don't you give it a try?"
"Naw, I couldn't do it." Daryl's shoulders slumped.
"Sure you can. I did it, and as your dad and Jim are fond of pointing out, I'm hyperactive." Blair stood. "C'mon, I'll show you how."
Jim was still laughing inwardly. When Daryl had sprinted around the bend of the river, carrying Blair's spear with a fish on the end, Simon's cigar had fallen out of his mouth and into the water. The look on his face had been priceless. He still hadn't caught anything. First time in a long time since that had happened.
Jim had expected Simon to be upset at losing the bet, since he seemed to spend so much of his time in a state of coiled tension, like a twig bent just to the snapping point. He had been worried about him lately because he knew that if Simon didn't find a way to handle his stress it would begin to effect his health. The captain spent a great deal of his time juggling the needs of his officers, which he considered paramount, with the wants of the Cascade bureaucracy. His home life wasn't much better, dealing with a rebellious son and a demanding ex-wife. For some reason he seemed to vent his anger on Blair more often than on Jim, although he wasn't completely immune to his superior's tirades. Maybe it was because he couldn't intimidate Jim. Not only because of their friendship but also because Jim wouldn't tolerate that kind treatment for long. Blair seemed to take Simon's outbursts in stride, and rarely took them personally. He seemed to understand that Simon's wrath was not really directed at him, but was just his way of letting off steam. He didn't always like it, but he understood it. His partner had tried just last week to set Simon up on a date, reasoning to Jim that if the captain had a happier personal life, he'd probably be easier on those under his charge.
But this weekend Simon had barely raised his voice to Blair, even when the young man had taunted him with a basket full of fish. The captain had smiled often during the trip, and he and Daryl seemed to be getting along much better than they usually did.
At first, when Blair had suggested they all go together on the trip, Jim had thought it was a recipe for disaster. He had expected Daryl to refuse to participate in any activities and Simon to storm around snapping at everyone, but Blair had insisted that it would work out, and the more Jim reflected on the past couple of days, the more he saw that the reason was Blair. Jim hadn't recognized it as an effort on Sandburg's part, but now it seemed clear. Pairing off with Daryl early on had taken the pressure away from the teenager to spend "quality time" with his dad. Once he was at ease and enjoying himself, he was more receptive to the idea of spending the day teaching his father his "fishing tricks." Blair had to know that the only person who would be interested in a long hike was Jim. If Jim had tried to pull the weekend off without Blair, he knew it wouldn't have worked.
He smiled and shook his head. The more he got to know Blair, the more he felt as if he should be the one to feel honored that Blair would spend time with him. There were times when he saw flashes of brilliance in the younger man that almost frightened him. Jim had always been a good detective, but even Simon had remarked on the fact that he had brought more cases to a successful conclusion since Blair had arrived on the scene. He knew that not all of it could be attributed to Jim's newfound heightened senses. It was getting more and more difficult to imagine doing his job without the anthropologist at his side.
An hour had passed, and still no fish. Jim looked up as Blair and Daryl splashed through the water toward them. Daryl had speared a fish this time. A very small one, but his look of pride brought a smile to Simon's face. After excitedly describing his kill, he pulled his father down the river with him to show him how to do it, and Simon went gladly, smiling all the way. Blair stooped down and began absently picking through the tackle box. "You're something else, you know that, Chief?"
Blair looked up at him innocently. "What?"
"Simon and Daryl. They're speaking to each other."
"Yep." Blair concentrated a little too hard on a lure, and Jim could sense the smile trying to get out. He stood and looked at Jim, straight-faced. "You can go ahead and cheat now. I wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself too badly."
"Funny."
"Yep." Blair had to suck his cheeks in to keep from smiling. "I'm taking my date to Canada to see a movie next weekend. Hope you don't mind."
"Don't push it."
Blair lost the battle and exploded with laughter. "Man! I cannot believe you two haven't caught a thing all weekend. What's up with that? Your past lives catching up with you?"
"My theory is that you smell like fish food, Sandburg."
Blair looked startled by the insult and laughed again. "Want me to show you how to use that spear once Simon and Daryl are done?"
"Nope."
Blair picked up a lure and dangled it before Jim. "I can show you some of my fishing secrets."
"No thanks."
"You don't care if you win this, do you?"
"Not particularly."
"Cool." Silence enveloped them again, and they spent another hour fishing and drinking beer. Neither of them caught anything, but they were no longer trying. Jim hadn't really been interested in catching anything the entire weekend. He was enjoying himself too much.
After a while, Daryl and Simon returned. Simon had been unsuccessful with the spear and reluctantly admitted defeat.
"OK, Dad, next weekend Jake and Tim are coming over. Be prepared."
Simon groaned. "Not Jake! Isn't that the kid that always brings his boombox over?"
"Yeah. He's got, like, a gazillion CD's. His dad owns a music store."
"Great."
They returned to camp and fried the two small fish the younger men had caught. Daryl had proclaimed himself sick of trout and opened a package of hot-dogs to roast for lunch.
Blair wrinkled his nose. "Do you know what's in those things?"
"I don't care." Daryl said, "They're good."
"There are parts of a pig in them..."
"Sandburg." Jim interjected. "Give your health-food spiel a rest, will you? We're on vacation here."
"Fine, fine. You guys want to clog up your systems with that stuff, it's fine with me."
Simon stuffed a huge bite of hotdog in his mouth and then said in a muffled voice, "Thanks, I think I will."
Jim took a bite. "How can you even talk about hot-dogs? I'd be hard pressed to think of an animal you haven't eaten."
"I only eat the healthy parts, Jim."
"Right." Jim didn't sound convinced.
Blair ate the fish by himself while the other three made a show of eating their hot-dogs. The wind picked up and thunder rolled as they finished their meal. "You guys had better get started tearing those tents down. Looks like we're gonna have a humongous storm here in a minute."
Simon scowled at Blair, and he and Jim began grimly breaking camp as Daryl and Blair retreated to the safety of the truck.
"This is great,. Blair! They're going to get soaked to the bone." Daryl smiled smugly as he shut the car door against the rising wind.
"So are we."
"What do you mean? We won, man. We don't have to do anything."
"No, we don't *have* to, but we will. We'll just stay in here for a minute to make our point, then go out to help them."
"But why? We won?"
"Yes we did." Blair turned to face the teenager. "Look, it's like this. We can sit in here and gloat while they fold up the tents in a downpour and they can't say anything to us because we won, fair and square, right?"
"Exactly, man."
"But they'll get into the truck soaking wet and uncomfortable. The more uncomfortable they are, the more unhappy they'll get. The unhappier they are, the unhappier we'll be later on. Do you really want them to sit through a two hour drive in wet underwear?"
Daryl giggled. "I guess not."
"It hasn't started raining yet, and if we go out we'll probably be able to get things packed up before it starts. Even if it does start, we'll all be wet and everything will be cool. See where I'm coming from? We made our point, but we don't want to ruin their weekend."
"Yeah, I guess so."
"Besides, you were complaining about your dad never letting you do anything. Helping them when we don't have to is a sign of maturity. You'll get major brownie points for acting like an adult. But you shouldn't do it for that reason. You should do it because it's what real friends do for each other."
"You're right Blair. OK, let's do it." Daryl reached for the door handle.
"That's why we're also not gonna play the radio at, like, maximum volume all the way back and I'm not really going to take the scenic route."
"Aw, man, you're spoiling all the fun."
"I didn't say you couldn't crank it up for a tune or two. Just not all the way back."
"OK, OK. Man, you are starting to sound just like one of them."
"I know. Scary, isn't it?" Blair laughed as he got out of the truck and went to join his friends.
--The End--
Disclaimer: The guys aren't mine, I'm just taking them camping. They really belong to Pet Fly Studios and Paramount. This little vacation is neither intended nor likely to make me any money. I promise to send them back to Cascade when I?m finished.
Thanks to Tigg and Dae, my ever-faithful beta readers. :) Much of this story was inspired by comments on the ClubDoom and Sentries mailing lists and in the IRC #sentinel chat on the UPN server. Thanks everyone for the inspiration!