23

Simon walked quietly into Blair's hospital room. From the chair beside the bed, Jim gave a small, tired nod in greeting.

"How's he doing?" the captain asked.

"I'm not sure." Jim stole a long glance at his partner. He felt nearly as helpless as he had in the water. "They keep saying they won't know much until he wakes up."

Simon shook his head. "Sometimes I think doctors are about as useful as weathermen."

Jim couldn't bring himself to acknowledge Simon's attempt at light-hearted humor. "So what's the word on Brooks?" he asked, his eyes still drifting to Sandburg.

"Marconin admitted you were right. Brooks was on the receiving end of an internal power struggle. Someone else in his organization wanted to get all the credit for taking back that emerald. Brooks would have rather seen it lost in the ocean than give it over to whoever his rival was."

"That would explain his torching the boat. What about the choppers?"

"Disappeared. Both of them. Right along with most of Marconin's case."

"They don't believe Brooks' chopper went down?"

"Do you?"

Jim met his captain's gaze. "In my experience, sir, men like Brooks never die when you expect them to. He's still alive out there, and he'll be back selling his soul to the highest bidder before. . ." He turned back to Sandburg.

"Before what?"

"Before Sandburg here gets back to his classes."

"Late. . .?" The voice coming from the bed was a barely discernable whisper. "My class. . .?"

Jim rose from his seat and leaned closer to his partner. He touched Sandburg's arm lightly with his own bandaged hand. "Hey, Chief. Is that you in there?"

"Am I late?" Sandburg blinked his eyes open and asked again.

Simon laughed softly. "Sandburg, I'd say for once you were right on time."

* * *

Blair sat on the couch with his laptop and a stack of papers. He was never going to catch up with his classes. Frustrated, he sighed and leaned back against the cushions.

"You ready to accept some help with that stuff, Chief?" Jim called out from the kitchen.

Blair couldn't help but smile. "Man, there is nothing I'd like better. But. . ." He sat forward and turned on the television. "I just need to take a break. There's not much you could really do for me, unless that emerald really did give you some new psychic powers and you could mentally transmit back to me whatever information you read."

"Yeah. Didn't I tell you about that?"

Startled, Blair turned around to face his partner. Jim just replied by humming a bad interpretation of UFO sound effects from some 1950's movie.

"Funny," Blair said sarcastically, settling into the cushions again. "Very funny." He turned up the volume to hear a news report from Scotland.

". . . The upcoming trial of two Libyans who are suspected of bombing Pan Am Flight 103 in December 1988. The explosion killed all 259 of the flight's crew and passengers, as well as 11 people on the ground in the town of Lockerbie, Scotland. The flight was en route from London to New Yorkii."

"Jim?" he called without turning around. But Jim was busy and apparently not paying attention.

". . . Professor John Grant of the Lockerbie Trial Briefing Unit says it will be the international trial of the decade."

"Jim?" he called again, then realized Jim was already beside him.

"What's up, Chief?"

". . . Involves allegations of the largest mass murder in Scottish legal history."

"What if Marconin was right about that terrorist?"

"How do you mean?"

". . . For years Libya refused to surrender the men, only doing so this year after several years of international sanctions. . ."

Blair's eyes were locked on the TV, though his thoughts drifted much farther afield. "What if we all just got in the way? I mean, if it wasn't for Jake and his whole mess, maybe the feds would have caught the guy."

"What are you trying to say, Sandburg? You're not feeling guilty, are you?"

"Well, yeah." He looked at Jim. "If you didn't have to rescue Jake and me, Brooks might not have gotten away, and-"

"Listen here, Chief. Brooks might still have gotten away. You didn't cause any of it. You and Jake both just got sucked into the whole thing. You had as much choice as a-"

Blair saw Jim tuning his senses into something near the ceiling, and followed his partner's gaze to a small web in the corner.

"As a fly in a spider's web." Patting Blair's shoulder, Jim got up and started back toward the kitchen. "And by the way, as soon as you get caught up on your school work, I think it's high time you started catching up on some chores around here."

". . . In other news, President Clinton announced today that. . ."

Still looking at the web, Blair realized Jim had gone back to cooking. "Hey, what about the web?"

"What about it?"

"Doesn't it bother you to leave it there?"

Jim shrugged. "Should it?"

Stunned, Blair couldn't believe his ears. He got up to get a broom, intending to take care of the web himself. But the broom took on new meaning as he passed Jim in the kitchen. "All right," he said accusingly, pointing the broom at his roommate as though it were a weapon, "who are you, and what have you done with my partner?"

Jim's eyes went wide as he repeated his UFO sounds.

Blair shook his head. "No man, that's not how you do it. It's like this. . ." Suddenly, the threats of the real world faded into the background, as black and white robots with laser guns took precedence in a particular loft in the heart of the city of Cascade.

* * *

end

i Author's Note: I have to thank Martin Prechtel, whose book, Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, helped me to find a connection with Blair Sandburg, a character I am certain would be fascinated by Prechtel's writings. Likewise, I have to thank the world of Sentinel fic for inspiring me to begin the research which resulted in my discovery of Mr. Prechtel, whose words have also given me a glimpse into my own heart and my own connection to the world around me. This story marks my first full dive into the world of Sentinel fic. For anyone who is interested in learning more about the Mayan culture, and for anyone who is interested in the teachings of a living shaman, I highly recommend that you place Martin Prechtel's books on your reading list.

ii References:

"Saving the Indigenous Soul: An Interview with Martin Prechtel," by Derrick Jensen. ().

Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, Memories from the Living Heart of a Mayan Village, by Martin Prechtel, 1998 (Jeremy P. Tarcher-Putnam).

"Lockerbie Trial Briefing Unit Discusses Trial of Libyan Suspects," by Rick Marshall, Washington File Staff Writer. USIS Washington File. November 5, 1999. (.)