~oOo~

The sentinel's path had taken him along the rugged and inhospitable terrain lining the river's edge, making him realise that the little piece of paradise where the cabin was situated was a misleading pretence to what the countryside really had to offer.

Having kept a steady pace all night, despite his injury, his progress had been good, and matched his original estimation. He was where he needed to be just past the break of dawn, and only minutes from the side of his boys. He'd picked up the sound of voices a little while back, but they'd been an undistinguished gabble of murmurs and jumbled syllables and he hadn't been able to gauge the meaning of the conversation – up until now. Wilder's psychotic rage spelled out the man's intention, and the meaning was crystal clear.

Emerging from the bend in the river, Jim's eyes now confirmed what his ears had already told him. Both the boys were in danger and he was about to make the most difficult choice he would ever have to make. Blair was in the middle of river at a depth that was well over his head but, for the moment, he appeared to be as safe as he could be, given the circumstances. The little wolf was perched atop a moss-covered rock and, with a strength that rivalled Hercules, had his son's t-shirt gripped within his teeth, demonstrating a determination that Jim prayed would hold out against the swirling current. Lucas, however, was in dire straits and the boy had only seconds left before water flooded his lungs and took his life. With no time left to think, Jim was about to rely on pure instinct as a soldier, a detective and a sentinel, but the decision was taken out of his hands. "Daddy!" Blair screamed, terrified at his own situation, but petrified at Lucas's. "Daddy, help him! Make the man stop!" he cried.

Wilder's head shot up at the sound of the outburst, his perverse pleasure at watching his nephew succumbed to his final control shattered, drawing him out of his reverie. Bearing down on him at great speed was the cop – the cop who was supposed to be dead. Immediately letting go of Lucas, Wilder sprang into an action of his own. Under the bag he'd carried down to the river was his rifle. It was loaded and primed and only needed a squeeze of the trigger to rid his life of a nuisance that had been plaguing him since this whole thing had begun. Unfortunately for Wilder, the cop had also reached the same conclusion.

~oOo~

He couldn't see it, but he could feel it, and also hear it. Incacha's presence was here, Lucas was certain of that. He barely had the consciousness of thought to lift his head from the water but, nevertheless, he had. Just as he'd also been held upright by a force that was not of his own volition and steadied while a hacking cough ran through his body.

Blair. It was no more than a whisper on the breeze, but for Lucas, its message could not have been clearer. His head shot up and he scanned the river. "Blair!" he shouted. The wolf pup was losing its grip and, instantly, Lucas was on the move.

~oOo~

The moment he was hoisted into the air, Blair knew what was going to happen. It would be just like Lucas's dream, a dream that had also become his own. He would struggle and thrash around, but eventually his head would go under the water and, just like the dream, Lucas wouldn't be able to save him.

The dream had been hopeless, but perhaps that could be changed. Blair hadn't counted on the presence of a little wolf pup, which had not left his side since the ordeal begun. As his legs and arms flailed and splashed in an effort to keep himself from going under, he barely felt the tug on his shirt, or his body being pulled in the opposite direction of the current. Rahma had snagged his t-shirt with his teeth and, inch by slow, arduous inch, the pup was moving backward on the rock, dragging Blair with him as he did so.

As soon as his body connected with the rock, Blair dug his fingernails into the hard surface, but was having a difficult time finding anything to hold. He could hear the pup's struggling pants in his ear and felt his hot breath as it steamed against his neck, but still he focussed his attention away from his own predicament and turned it toward shore. Distress and elation collided and Blair didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His daddy was here and he cried out in anguish. Lucas was drowning and his daddy was the only one who could save him.

The man's foot left Lucas's chest and Blair watched Incacha lift the teenager from the water. Then he heard his name. It was no more than a whisper carried on the breeze, but still, it was enough to send Lucas scrambling to his feet. Blair's hands had begun to shake with exhaustion and his fingernails, now torn and broken, were no match for the slippery surface of the rock. Neither were the pup's claws.

Unable to maintain his footing, the pads of Rahma's paws inched closer and closer to the edge of the rock as the frigid waters swirled around his human. Despite his best efforts, the pup could no longer hold on and tumbled into the water beside Blair. While swimming was a natural instinct, Rahma was struggling not only against the current, but the weight of the child he was trying to support.

The little wolf was losing the battle.

~oOo~

Lucas ran along the riverbank, keeping pace with Blair and the pup as they drifted downstream. He needed to get ahead of them both and, in his present condition, on foot was the best bet. While he was a strong swimmer, he didn't have a lot of faith in his ability to catch up to them in the water. His lungs were already burning and his fatigued muscles were just about reaching their limits. There wasn't a lot of time left, and he knew it. In one last, desperate burst of energy, he picked up speed, arriving at the bend in the river before Blair. He launched himself into the water, swimming across the current in an effort to get to the spot where he figured the natural flow would take the pair. Stopping and treading water, Lucas fought against the river and did his best to remain stationary, scanning upstream for any sign of Blair. It didn't take long for the pair to round the bend, and for Lucas to realise his he'd just made a deadly mistake. He'd gotten too far ahead of them and Blair was struggling to keep his head above water. He'd have to bridge the gap and the only way to do that was to swim upstream, against the current.

Even with his body already pushed to the edge, Lucas refused to give up. He'd just push harder, beyond the limits, beyond the point of no return if he had to. Blair was not going to drown. He had no doubt in his mind about that.

Asking more of his muscles than he'd ever asked before, Lucas kicked through the water. Ignoring the burning sensation in his legs and taking no heed of the pain that ripped through his chest, he was less than a body-length away from sweeping Blair into his arms when the three-year-old let go of the pup's neck. There was no sound as Blair slipped under the water – and barely a ripple as Lucas dove down after him.

The current, which Lucas had been fighting so desperately against, turned from foe to friend and Blair's body was pushed not down, but through the murky waters and straight into his arms. What seemed like a lifetime was, in reality, less than a minute before Lucas broke the surface with Blair cradled, chest-to-chest and heart-to-heart against his own.

"I didn't drownded." No coughing, no spluttering, not even so much as a sob came from Blair. Just three little words that broke Lucas's resolve and brought the last of the walls crashing down. He buried his face in Blair's wet hair and simply cried.

With no reserves of strength to call upon to get them back to shore, Lucas continued to cradle Blair to his chest and let the river be his guide. The pup had already been dragged up onto an outcrop of rocks by the young cougar, and it wasn't long before their path took them in the same direction. His back hit the largest of the rocks, preventing them from going any further. Finding it increasingly difficult to draw air into his burning lungs, Lucas made a feeble attempt to dislodge Blair's arms from around his neck. "You need to climb up," he wheezed.

Blair tightened his grip and shook his head, refusing to let go.

"Sport, it'll be okay. The rock's big and flat, you won't fall off, I promise," Lucas cajoled, with failing energy.

"No, I not let go." Blair buried his face into the crook of Lucas's neck and locked his fingers together. He was scared of climbing onto the rock, but that wasn't why he refused to let go. Lucas was making a funny noise every time he breathed and he seemed like he was very tired. Blair had an awful feeling that if he left Lucas alone, the teenager would fall asleep, and if he fell asleep, he'd slip down under the water. If he stayed where he was, Blair was certain that Lucas would stay awake. Lucas had promised he wouldn't let him be drowned and, by staying right where he was, Blair was making sure that Lucas didn't drown either.

"We have to be brave for just a little bit longer, Lucas," Blair whispered into his brother's neck. "Daddy will be here soon and then we not have to worry no more."

Lucas simply nodded his head. Talking at this moment was a waste of breath and, with the way he was struggling, he couldn't afford to waste even a single breath.

Tears, however, were free and abundant, and the only thing he had left to give.

So very tired and frighteningly close to the edge of collapse, Lucas rested his cheek on top of Blair's wet curls. The little boy's rapid heartbeat thumped against his bare chest and, despite the chill of the water, Blair's body warmed him to the core. "I love you so much it's almost scary." The words were so soft, that Lucas wasn't even sure if he'd spoken them out loud or if they were just another part of his fragmented mind.

But Blair did hear, and his brother was wrong. Love wasn't scary, it was the loss of love that was. Wrapping his legs in a tight grip around Lucas's torso, Blair snuggled in even closer into Lucas's chest, making a promise right there and then. No matter what happened, his daddy and Lucas would never be lost and he'd never, ever be afraid to love them.

~oOo~

Wilder was vainglorious by nature. Combined with the stature he'd been blessed with, this had become a dangerous combination, not only to those who had suffered under his hand, but also to himself. He was too arrogant to see Ellison for what he really was. To Wilder, his opponent was just another dumb ass cop that could be dealt with in exactly the same manner he dealt with all the dumb ass people in his life.

But it was this smug underestimation of other people's abilities that got people like Wilder killed – eventually.

The first fist that connected with his face was unexpected and took Robert completely by surprise. He'd been hit before, but never with this kind of force, and he knew he'd have to rethink his strategy. The rifle was no longer within his reach; it looked as if the simple way out wasn't going to be so simple after all. Regaining his composure quickly, Wilder faced the cop head on, trying to intimidate and bully him with his superior height and weight. Finding the weakest point on which to prey had always been one of his specialities, and Robert worked to move close enough to the cop to lock bodies and exploit that weak spot. But that's when his plan became shot to hell. There was no reaction from the cop at all as he dug his fingers into the bullet hole. No cries or grunts of pain, no flinching or desperate attempts to dislodge his hand from his arm, and no split-second window where the cop's focus was drawn away long enough for him to gain the advantage. The only response, apart from the blood which was now slick on his fingers, was the fire that burned within the cop's eyes.

Robert was now afraid – terribly afraid.

The fists continued to hammer heavily into his body. Wilder was not only smothered in physical pain, he was blanketed by a feeling of failure. The need to take flight was becoming overwhelming, and he spun around in an attempt to move out and away from the melee. Again seriously underestimating his opponent, he attempted to dislodge the cop's arm, which had wound around his neck the second he attempted to move. In a desperate bid to free himself, Wilder wrenched his body viciously to the right, trying to force the cop's muscles to loosen, but the implacable arm didn't break its hold; instead, it broke his neck.

Ellison had heard a man's neck snap before. While it wasn't a terribly appealing sound, this time it held a certain satisfying timbre. Consciously, he'd only set out to bring Wilder down, disable and disarm him and then let the wheels of justice take over. Unconsciously, he wasn't so sure if those were really his true intentions. Wilder was not just another nameless face in a battle or a dangerous perp on the street. The man had crossed the bounds and made it personal. The moment he'd done so, a force deeper and stronger than the cop or the soldier he was and had been, consumed Ellison. As a father, the need to eradicate any threat to his family was powerful; as a sentinel, that same need intensified to a level that shifted into the realm of deadly. The feeling was raw and instinctual and Jim now knew that it was very deeply ingrained inside him. Of all the titles he wore, 'sentinel' had moved to the top of the list.

Jim felt Wilder's Adam's apple pulse against the muscle on his forearm. He felt the man's airways tighten and heard his pitiful struggle for breath; he knew that this would not be a painless death. Releasing his grip, a part of Jim wondered if he should finish the job or if he should let nature make the final decision. Wilder's erratic and unpredictable move had initiated the break, and he had the power within the strength of his arms to finish job. All he needed to do was to apply more pressure and send Wilder into spinal shock, but somehow the shade of grey he was so certain he'd be able to live with, began to turn into an ominous shade of black. Despite everything that Jim was, a murderer wasn't one of them.

In the grace of pity, Ellison lowered Wilder to the ground and turned away. Without so much as looking back, he broke into a jog and headed back toward the river. A strangled cry filled the forest, silencing the haunting call of the raven, and Jim knew that nature, in the form and shape of a large black panther, had just had the final say.

~oOo~