+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

"Will you haul your sorry ass up off that log and help me move these others?" Jim shouted at the resting captain. Halfway through the morning, the pleasantly winding road had become an obstacle course of fallen trees and rocks which completely blocked their path. Determining that it was safer to move the trees in front of them than to walk over the highly unstable remainders of the land slide to the sides of the road, the three men had begun clearing the path. Jim's friendly attitude towards Simon had disappeared after his and Blair's early morning talk, and the harsh shout he directed at the captain was not the first, and would not likely be the last.

Simon stood and swiped at his sweat-beaded forehead with his sleeve before moving towards Jim and helping move the large tree. Blair followed closely behind him, adding his strength to the job. They had soon discovered that the landslide was a bit wider than they had thought, and the task had lengthened into the afternoon hours.

While Jim was hurling invectives at his old friend, Blair had been acting quite the opposite. Instead of ordering Simon around, Blair had explained what he needed done and requested Simon's help. When they broke for lunch, and Jim had stalked off to clean up at the river, Blair had calmly asked for Simon's help in opening a can of food. He showed Simon the long cut on his palm and which made the chore difficult and had a willing helper within moments. When Jim returned and demanded that Simon look at a scrape on the Sentinel's back, Simon had grumbled and rolled his eyes at Blair before moving to help the hostile peace officer.

When Blair confessed to Simon that he thought the landslide might have been the work of the Warlock Lash, and that he was a bit spooked by the idea, Simon had remained at his side, calmly explaining that if Lash had exerted power enough to cause this much damage, he would be tired for several days and unable to do more harm to them or the land around them.

Finally free of the obstruction on the road as the light was fading in the sky, all three men gathered firewood and hauled it a few miles down the road before settling for the night. Simon had silently lifted some of the heavier pieces from Blair's load after Jim had equally divided up the cache of wood, winking at the younger man before Blair could protest. Dinner was eaten swiftly and afterwards, Simon carefully tended to Blair's hand while they talked about Daryl and Blair's own experiences in college. Another roll of the eyes and deep sigh answered Jim's command that Simon stop messing around with the kid and see to his back.

When Simon strode down to the river to refresh their water, Jim moved over to Blair's side and demanded that he tell Simon what their game was. Blair refused, saying a single day of the treatment he dished out to his subordinates could not possibly show him what an ass he had been for all those months. Reluctantly, Jim agreed to continue, lodging yet another protest just before Simon returned. As much as it bothered Blair to have Jim acting so out of character, he was certain that his plan would help out Simon in the end, and remained firm in his belief that at least one more day should go by before letting the captain in on their trickery.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

The next day, however, revealed another obstacle the three men had to overcome, and this was one right out of Blair's worst nightmares.

The three had set out early, making good time under the sun-filled blue skies of Owz. Blair and Simon talked as they walked, remarking on sights along the way, or merely chatting. Jim did not involve himself in their conversation, and walked several meters ahead of them at all times. Lunch was a silent affair, with Larry's chittering and the wind in the trees the only audible sounds. Blair could see the hesitation in Simon's eyes whenever Jim's name was brought up. The tall captain likely wanted to ask what was up with his old friend, but was aware of the Sentinel's abilities, and held his tongue.

Just before supper time, though, a ninety-degree turn in the road revealed a sharp drop-off on one side of the golden brick road. Whole sections of the brightly colored bricks had been broken away and the path dwindled down to mere inches in places for a span of a quarter mile or so. The valley to the side of the road, which might have included a gently sloping hill at one time, would only be reached by a *very* long drop which chilled Blair to the bone.

He set his heels in the middle of the unbroken pathway and declared loudly that there was no way in hell he would be able to cross that road. Simon looked over to gauge Jim's reaction, and was angered at the Sentinel's glare. Before Simon could voice a single word, Jim began taunting Blair.

"What are you, afraid of heights or something?" he sneered.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Blair shot back, hurt that Jim was playing his part so well, and wishing that he had never begun this ruse, even if it was for Simon's sake.

"Why, of all the. . ." Jim began. Glancing heavenwards, he continued. "It's just my luck to get stuck with a baby. You don’t want to cross the road, fine. Head back to Uni and see if your pal Megan can find you some guts."

Blair did not need to fake the horror that flooded his face at Jim's harsh words. Before Blair could speak, however, Simon addressed Jim.

"You go on ahead, tough guy," the captain shouted at Jim, his face as red as Blair's, but with anger. "I'll help the kid get across. But afterwards, you and I are going to have a long talk. Got it?"

A fleeting look of regret touched Jim's face, replaced immediately by the sneer he had affected since the day before.

"Fine by me. Later." He set off across the precipice, walking smoothly and carefully. A few stray bricks dropped off over the side as he passed, but he did not hesitate and before long was standing on the unbroken path on the other side, hands held out to his sides. Larry took that opportunity to skitter quickly across the treacherous road, his tiny size and light weight making for an uneventful crossing. Blair watched Jim walk a bit further down the path then turn and sit facing them. He knew all of Jim's senses would now be focused on the pair who had yet to cross, prepared to help them should anything befall them.

"Alright now, son. You just watched Mister Attitude stroll across the path without any problems, there's no reason we can't do it, too."

"Simon. . . I-I don't think. . .," Blair stuttered.

"Now listen to me Blair." Simon's deep voice grew softer as he looked directly into the anthropologist's eyes. "I'm going to be right behind you. I saw you watching Jim, so you know where he stepped. Just put one foot in front of the other, do *not* look down, and we'll be across before you know it."

Still frightened, but willing to face that fear with Simon's presence behind him and the Sentinel's close by, Blair nodded.

The first step onto the broken golden road was the hardest. Simon placed a hand on Blair's back and nudged him gently forward when he would have stopped, and kept up a litany of encouraging words as they traversed the treacherous path. By the time they were mere meters from safety, Blair almost thought his fear of heights was conquered.

Just as he was about to step onto the safety of the road, however, he felt the bricks begin to crumble beneath his feet.

"Oh my God!" he cried out, glancing down into the gorge towards his imminent death even as his hands scrabbled for a hand hold that was not there.

Before he could finish the shout, strong arms were hauling him away from the edge and shoving him several feet away to safety. He rolled onto his knees with his momentum and turned to see if Simon had been lucky enough to jump to safety. Those same strong arms which had grabbed him -- belonging to Jim, of course -- were already wrapped around one of Simon's arms and had likewise hauled the captain onto the firm ground.

Simon sat down hard, his breathing harsh, while Jim rushed to Blair's side.

"Sorry about the rough landing there. I needed to get you out of the way so I could grab Simon." Jim was running his hands over Blair's torso, looking for injuries. The grad student firmly pushed the hands away.

"Hey, big guy, I'm fine. Thanks for the assist, though. I *so* thought I was a goner there." Blair was happy that his voice did not waver much, and that the shaking in his limbs had subsided quickly. Jim leaned towards him.

"This ends now," he whispered, and Blair nodded resignedly. Whether Simon killed them for the ruse or not remained to be seen, but they owed him the truth. The two men moved over to where Jim had set his belongings and waited for the inevitable confrontation, giving Simon the chance to catch his breath before filling him in.

True to his words on the opposite side of the gorge, Simon came stalking over to Jim to have that 'long talk' but was stopped short by Blair, who motioned for him to sit at what was to be their camp for the night.

"I guess you've noticed that Jim's been giving you a lot of grief over these past two days," Blair began.

"You bet your ass I have, and I want to know what I did to tick him off so badly," Simon replied with a glare in Jim's direction. The Sentinel glared back and only nodded at Blair.

"Well, you see," Blair started. "Um. . . I was thinking about what you said back at your cabin, about being so angry all the time and missing Daryl and all, and I was hoping I could help you out. You know, as a sort of thank you for getting me to Owz in one piece and all." He stopped speaking, embarrassed that his normal eloquence seemed to have deserted him under the twin glares of the captain and the Sentinel. He breathed in and out deeply a few times then launched into the explanation a second time.

"Simon, your military training made you into an excellent officer. In the military, mind you. While sometimes it's important to make a strong point with your subordinates, for the most part, the ordering around and threatening your people with bodily harm just doesn't cut it in civilian life. A captain has to play all sorts of roles in his job. You have to schmooze with the brass, coddle the media, effectively guide your men and women in their daily lives, and push hard only when it's absolutely necessary. When you shout at someone *all* the time, they think they've done something wrong, or that you don’t like them, and will eventually resent you. Sure, they'll still work for you. They have to. But the department won't be running smoothly at all. It will turn into just what you had -- a bunch of angry, borderline insubordinate cops, led by an angrier boss who does not understand why his own bosses are coming down so hard on him. Does that sound familiar?"

A snort was the only answer Blair received from Simon, as well as an eye roll from Jim and a hand motion that clearly meant cut to the chase.

"Anyway, I talked Jim into behaving like a jerk for these past days to show you how uncomfortable it can be when you get yelled at and ordered around all the time. I, on the other hand, tried to explain what I needed and to ask you nicely for your help. I know that we were both sort of extreme cases, but I was hoping that you'd see where compassion fits into management. You were a lot more agreeable to helping me, since you knew why you were needed, and were treated with respect. Jim -- who was only playing along with my idea, just so you know -- was giving you the tough military 'do as I say or I'll kick your ass' attitude."

Simon looked up at the anthropologist, fury shining in his eyes.

"Are you saying this was all a game?"

"I. . . yeah," Blair replied softly. "But I meant well. I know how much you want to see your son and I was hoping I could. . ."

"Save it." The captain stood abruptly and stalked off into the woods, not looking back once.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Clapping his gaping mouth shut after watching Simon's form disappear into the thick forest, Blair sank unhappily down next to Jim. He lowered his head into his hands and moaned.

"I really blew it, Jim, didn’t I? Simon hates me now, and probably hates you, too. How could I have been so stupid?" A light chuckle from the Sentinel brought his head back up.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Sandburg. I was watching Simon the whole time you were babbling about what you meant, and I think you drove your point home. Simon, however, has a little too much pride to simply say 'Aha, so *that's* why I was such a failure' and thank you for your insight."

Blair hung his head again, realizing how difficult a situation he had placed Simon in.

"I was right when I told you my big mouth can get me into trouble. I *really* didn't mean to hurt him. Does he know that?"

"I'm sure he does, kid." Jim brought one hand up to pat Blair on the back. "He just needs to do a little processing, is all."

"Processing?" Blair brightened almost immediately at the image that word brought to his head. "That's something my Mom would say."

"You have a pretty smart Mom then."

"She'd just about flip to hear a compliment from a cop, though."

"She likes them, huh?" Jim said with a little grin.

"No way, man," Blair replied with a grimace. "She doesn't trust the police at all. Too many bad memories from the sixties, I guess."

"I'm not even going to ask what 'The Sixties' is. Probably another city you've been to with too many stories attached to it for me to get a good night's sleep," Jim joked, cuffing at the younger man's head and ruffling his hair.

"Hey, watch it, man. And I do not tell too many stories. You're the one who kept asking me what I was talking about. I merely felt compelled to give you explanations. Blame yourself for lack of sleep, not me." He attempted a punch to Jim's upper arm, but was left swinging in the air when the former peace officer lunged away quickly.

"Man, I am gonna connect one of these days and you'll be sorry," Blair promised with a grin. Jim made a talking gesture with his hand.

"Big words, little man. Admit it, I'm too quick for you." Jim bounced away and assumed a boxing stance. Blair's grin grew wider as he rose to his feet. Memories of Sweet Roy Williams flooded through his brain and jabbed out suddenly in a perfect imitation of his old friend's punishing right hook. As intended, he caught Jim in the solar plexus and the older man wheezed and crouched over, holding both hands up in surrender and plopping ungracefully down next to their gear.

"Jeez, kid, who taught you to throw a punch like that?"

"Told you you'd be sorry," he said around a laugh at Jim's exaggeration of his injury while seating himself next to the Sentinel.

"Did your Dad teach you how to fight like that?"

"Nope. An old friend who made a damn good living fighting. I don’t know who my Dad is, to tell you the truth."

Blair's candid statement caught Jim off-guard. He wondered if he should even follow the turn this conversation had taken even as he heard the next words spill from his mouth.

"Your Mom didn't stay with him?"

"I'm not sure she even knew who he was. The sixties were a time, not a place, and there was a whole lot of free love going on back then. Naomi, my mom, raised me by herself. We traveled a lot, as you know from my stories, and we met a lot of guys who I thought might have been my Dad. She called everyone she met an old friend, but I never knew if she really had known them before or not. Even if she had never met them before, she was real comfortable around strangers, and told me they would end up being old friends, so why not call them that now?"

Jim was loathe to interrupt this fascinating insight into Blair's life, so kept silent and simply nodded. He reserved his judgement on the kid's mother. Her lifestyle was nothing like he had ever imagined, but her son had certainly turned out okay.

"There were a few guys I really hoped were my Dad," Blair said, his eyes soft. Jim knew these were precious memories. "One in particular, actually. His name was Brother Marcus. He was a monk, but had been out in the world for years before joining the monastery. I used to visit him on school vacations and stay there when I needed to clear my head or just get away from things. I tried to pick out similarities in our features, and found enough to back up my notion that he's my Dad. Naomi never reacted differently around him than she did to the other guys she knew, so I can't be sure. I never pressed her about it, and probably never will. It's not important enough to me right now. Maybe someday, though."

Blair finished with a sigh. Jim let a comfortable silence fall between them, and moved to prepare their dinner. The leftover fish from the night before was plated up and some warmed veggies added when the two men saw Simon walk out of the woods and head towards them. Jim watched Blair tense up, and hoped that Simon went easy on him. Half of his concentration during the last half hour had been on the captain's heartbeat which had raced dangerously after he had left their camp, but gradually slowed. Simon's muttered swears had ceased a while ago, which told the Sentinel that the captain had understood the kid's point, even if he didn't agree with his methods.

"Sandburg!" he barked out, bringing Blair to his feet to face the man he had duped. Instead of launching into another explanation, though, the anthropologist hung his head and waited for the imminent tongue lashing.

"What you did was pretty bold," Simon began. "I don’t suppose it dawned on you to try a less extreme method before you made a fool of me? Did it?" he pressed when Blair made no move to answer him.

"I guess I didn't think it through as carefully as I thought I had," the dejected young man muttered, still not looking up.

Simon looked skyward and heaved a gusty sigh before continuing.

"Well, it seems that a fleeting thought from your head works better than the years of training those idiotic psychiatrists get in Owz. I may thoroughly disagree with your methodology, kid, but whether I liked it or not, you did teach me a valuable lesson."

Blair raised his head, an incredulous look on his face, the beginnings of a smile appearing around his mouth. Simon held up a hand.

"Before you start congratulating yourself, let me tell you that as much as I appreciate your efforts, if you ever try to pull something like that again, Ellison's mean streak will have nothing on mine. Understand?" The tall man wrapped an arm around Blair's neck and briskly scrubbed at his hair.

"Yes, sir," Blair replied with a laugh as he attempted to extricate himself from Simon's grasp. Finally succeeding, he moved away a few feet and looked solemnly at his newest friend. "Are we okay Simon? Really?"

"You just keep your hare-brained schemes in your head where they belong and we'll be just fine, kid. You meant well, and I appreciate that you were concerned about me and my son. As for a suitable punishment for your meddling, though," he plastered a thoughtful look on his face and scrunched his eyebrows together, ostensibly in deep thought. "What do you think, Jim?"

The Sentinel was caught off-guard by the question and waved a hand in Simon's direction, ceding the decision of retribution to his old friend, wondering at the same time what his own punishment would be for his role in their little deception. It might have been Sandburg's idea, but Jim had thoroughly immersed himself in the role of the 'bad guy' to offset Blair's 'good'. After a few tense, silent moments, Simon grinned broadly and clapped the visibly nervous anthropologist on the back, reaching over to include Jim in the embrace.

"I never did like cooking and cleaning up, you know. I really admire your culinary skills, kid, and who better than a Sentinel to make sure the dishes and pans are really clean?"

"Who indeed?" Blair mimicked, raising his eyebrows and grinning at Jim.

"You'd better cut down on the spices, Sandburg, or I'll leave some dirt in your coffee cup," Jim threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," Blair shot back.

"Watch me," Jim retorted, ruffling the grad student's hair.

Simon laughed loudly and then laid back on the grass to watch the bickering pair finish preparing his dinner.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

The trio had been traveling for two full days while the golden brick road wound its way through deeper forest than they had seen thus far on their journey. The heavy tree cover made for a perpetual twilight to Blair and Simon's eyes. Jim, however, walked on without hesitation, his enhanced vision cutting through the gloom with little difficulty. Sandburg had trained him to use his gifts casually, almost instinctually, so without the worry of an unexpected overload, he led the small group without incident. Larry's eyes were not as sharp as Jim's but he chose to scout ahead, closer to the Sentinel than the others. Jim enjoyed watching the curious little fellow as he romped through the undergrowth and dug through patches of lichen to find bugs and other edibles.

Simon and Blair slowly repaired their new friendship over the two days of travel. Jim's abilities made it prudent for him to travel in front of the others, calling back warnings of debris in the road or broken bricks to avoid. Jim had listened throughout the first day as Blair had cautiously broached topics that he and the captain could speak of without argument. The kid would scuttle like a crab to change the topic if Simon appeared to be getting riled about anything. At dinner that night, the forceful voice of the former captain had informed Blair that his damnable coddling had to stop. He appreciated a good argument, and since he was no longer upset with the anthropologist, it was time for him to get to know the *real* Blair, not the too-clever playactor who had finally gotten Simon's head screwed on straight. Jim had laughed as Blair blinked owlishly before catching the compliment at the tail end of Banks' gruff statement. Their second day was much more enjoyable. Both men liked to fish, loved coffee, and enjoyed discussing the ins and outs of teaching -- Simon more for his son's sake than his own -- yet differed on most of the other topics they touched upon. Jim was treated to an unguarded view of his old friend, and further insight into the startlingly sharp mind of his new friend and teacher.

Jim occasionally would listen in closely, and overheard Blair's impassioned defense of something called "old growth forest" and Simon's casual dismissal of its relevance in the land of Owz. When Blair described something called a Victim's Advocacy Unit, Jim heard Simon's growled denials of the need for such an organization. Surprised, Jim turned and looked quickly at his old friend, noting the gleam in his eye. Jim chuckled quietly. He knew that gleam. Simon was baiting Blair. The tall man was probably imagining ways to fit such a unit into his department's budget while letting Sandburg map out the entire proposal for him, point by point. Jim was happy to see that Blair never truly got angry about Simon's contrary points of view. Once in a while he would throw up his hands and mutter 'have it your own way' before changing the subject. On the whole, though, each man learned a great deal about the other, just as Jim and Blair had done when they started out together on this journey, before they met up with Simon.

By the time they had made camp on the second night, the bond he had felt growing between himself and Sandburg had wrapped its tendrils around Simon as well. As much as those months in that deserted patch of farmland had rankled, he knew he would gladly have spent ten times that span if he had known what treasured friends he would meet because of it.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

They had yet to spot any other inhabitants since Simon's cottage, but the mood the following morning was one of caution as they set off once again towards the city that held so many promises for each of them. Lash would still be recovering from the bouts of magic which had caused the landslide and nearly destroyed that stretch of the golden brick road -- assuming that he and not some natural occurrence had been responsible -- but there were other reasons to be wary. Jim and Simon had each traversed this dark stretch of road months ago on their way to their separate exiles, and neither had lingered to enjoy it. There was very little here to enjoy. Heavy branches thick with leaves blocked out any view of the sky, small animals could be heard scurrying about in the undergrowth, and every now and then the cry of a larger animal would echo across the gloomy path and around the small group. All in all, it was an eerie stretch of road.

Several hours earlier, Larry had clambered up Simon's tall frame and now rode on the man's shoulders. All attempts to dislodge his hairy little charge were met with utter resistance and ear-piercing shrieks. Simon had finally relented and carried on as if there wasn't anything unusual about having a simian for a scarf. After a good bout of laughter which had redoubled Simon's efforts to loosen the ape from himself, Jim and Blair had purposely ignored the odd sight of the normally gruff captain with the trembling Larry wrapped around his neck.

As they traveled, Blair walked closer to his Sentinel, partly to make sure his senses were causing him no difficulties, and partly because the shadowy woods gave him the creeps. He fingered the acorns he still carried in his pocket, drawing a little bit of courage from his mini-weapons. Anxious to get his mind off the dark thoughts the forest was bringing him, he decided to put Jim through his sensory paces. One by one, he urged Jim to engage his Sentinel senses, gauging their current 'settings' and urging his friend to extend them to the limit then pull them back again as an exercise in control.

His scans brought Jim a wealth of information about their surroundings. He could feel the moisture inherent in the deep forest on his skin, as well as smell faint hints of woodsmoke, the direction of which he was unable to pinpoint due to shifting air currents. Holding his mouth open, he could practically taste the deep, rich dirt in which these huge old trees had thrust their roots hundreds of years ago, and where multitudes of insects now crawled. His extraordinary sight rewarded him with a brief glimpse of the blue sky far above their heads, seen only through small breaks in the leaves as the breeze shifted them on their branches. The tree trunks, though, formed a solid barrier, and piggybacking his senses did little to allow him views of more than several dozen yards to either side of the road. The path ahead was mostly straight, but even stretching as far as he dared, he could not see any thinning in the trees.

After cautioning Simon to avoid speaking or any attempts to disturb his furry passenger, Blair urged Jim to extend his hearing, the most acute of his senses. Speaking soft words of encouragement, and placing his hand at the base of the Sentinel's spine, the anthropologist watched Jim tilt his head and close his eyes. Blair suggested that Jim 'sweep' the area around them, and if possible, to describe what he heard. After discerning one animal and two human heartbeats other than his own at close range, he allowed his hearing to drift, accepting stimulus, but never lingering on any one sound. His military background had taught him to do things in precise fashion, so he mentally cordoned off sectors to explore. Hearing nothing of note behind and to the sides of their party, he cast his hearing off ahead of them.

Just as he was about to call out a warning of an unidentified fourth human heartbeat to Simon and Blair, an ear-piercing shriek rent the air, sending him to his knees as the flare of pain in his head hit him full-force. He pulled back his hearing as far as he could, and instantly zoned on the pain and the utter absence of sound.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

"What the. . ." Simon reacted to the scream just a moment before the sleeping Larry did. Reacting to the unexpected danger, the little ape immediately dug his claws into the tree branch on which he had been sleeping. The 'tree branch' then screamed louder than the unknown intruder had as the pain of the razor-sharp claws registered on his exposed neck. He reached up to grab the simian before he could gouge into him further, twisting about in an attempt to get the beast off of him.

Blair was the only one of them who saw the large black man leap out from between two trees, a huge branch in his hands brandished like a baseball bat. The menacing scowl on the man's face sent Blair's heart into his shoes and his hands into his pockets for his acorns. Jim was seriously out of commission, and Simon could still be heard dancing around and cursing at Larry to let go of him. It was up to Blair to save them from this madman before he had a chance to use that branch. The anthropologist glanced quickly about, spying a similar branch near him on the edge of the path. If he could distract the man with the acorn's explosion, he figured he had a good chance of grabbing that branch and bashing the guy with it before he could do any harm to the others. He gritted his teeth and tossed one acorn, and then another in rapid succession, onto the path at the man's feet, pleased to hear the man's branch drop to the ground between explosions. He then darted to the side of the path for his own makeshift club. He tested its weight as the worst of the smoke engulfed the stranger and hefted it onto his shoulder, prepared to defend himself and his friends.

What he saw when the smoke finally cleared was not at all what he had expected.

Instead of an enraged, yet unarmed man standing before him, the previously menacing stranger was crouched on the pathway in a submissive pose, his hands threaded together and outstretched in supplication. Amid hitching breaths, the man was begging Blair not to hurt him, not to use any more demon magic on him, and to spare his life.

Pointing a finger at the stranger, Blair ordered him not to move a muscle. Impossibly, the man scrunched up further and nodded vigorously, now alternating thanks with his continued pleas for mercy.

Shaking his head in awe, Blair dropped his branch to the pathway and made his way over to Jim, who still lay on the road, senseless. Simon had managed to remove Larry from his bare skin, and was pressing a clean cloth to the bleeding wounds while eyeing the scene in front of him. Somehow he had managed to grab his gun while extricating the ape from his person and had it pointed at the stranger with the hand not tending his injuries. He met the younger man's glance and nodded as Blair knelt beside the Sentinel.

Placing his hands on either side of Jim's head, as he had done back at their first meeting, Blair began to gently stroke his fingers up and down the planes of his friend's face. He surmised that Jim's hearing was completely off-line, so words would not be useful in bringing Jim back. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, offering Blair no options for easing him out of the zoneout using sight, either. Moving one hand to the Sentinel's back, he continued his stroking until the tension in the large body began to ease. He took one of Jim's hands and pulled it to rest palm down on his chest, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing, and hopefully ease his racing heart. He willed Jim to make the connection between the steadily beating heart beneath his hand and the absence of danger.

After several minutes crouched beside his friend, Blair sensed that Jim was finally coming out of the zone. Recalling the violent reaction Jim had the last time he'd wakened from a zone out, Blair removed his hands and backed away from his friend, confident that he would come around completely soon. He walked over to Simon and helped him tend to the scratches Larry had given him. Simon acknowledged Blair's presence with a nod as the anthropologist began cleaning the wounds and applying a healing salve before cutting up strips of cloth for bandages. Most of the captain's attention was fixed on the stranger who remained huddled in a ball in the middle of the road. The man would occasionally peek up from behind his hands, but as soon as he noticed the angry scowl directed at him, he would lower his head again and his trembling would increase.

When the grad student was satisfied that Simon's wounds were properly dressed, he stood and took a deep breath, then rounded on the stranger, intent on getting to the bottom of their near-ambush.

"What the HELL did you do that for?" Blair growled at the crouched figure, his compassionate nature temporarily suppressed by his need to vent a little frustration. The gashes on Simon's neck would heal, sooner or later they would find out where Larry was hiding, and Jim's zoneout could be taken as a learning experience. Yet this guy had deliberately set out to harm them, and Blair was sick and tired of being scared. The oppressively dark forest loomed about them still, but his anger made him boldly approach the man.

"I'm so sorry," the stranger replied, his head still bent down. "Please don't blow me up. You can do anything else you and the other warlocks want, but please, please don't blow me up!"

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Blair turned to glance at Simon, who had moved closer, then over at Jim, who was apparently recovered from the zone out, but was keeping his distance. Each man met his gaze with a puzzled frown. Some of the fear-born anger which had filled the anthropologist began to die down. Simon had re-holstered his weapon, and Jim had never drawn his, and Blair found himself relaxing at bit. If the two peace officers thought this guy was safe, then he would, too. His voice was a bit softer as he chided the stranger.

"You can't go around scaring people like that. What were you thinking of, jumping out and shrieking like that?"

"I never meant to disturb warlocks, you have to believe me. If I had known you were warlocks I would have let you pass. Please don't blow me up."

"Oh, for crying out loud, we're not warlocks, we're just travelers. And I'm not going to blow you up. Look, it's just an acorn, it's not going to hurt you." Blair opened his hand and held out the remaining nut for the bigger man to inspect. He neglected, of course, to tell the man that there were two armed officers not ten feet away from him. The guy seemed spooked enough. After a quick glance at the mini-explosives, the stranger averted his eyes again.

"You're not a warlock?" he asked.

"Nope, Blair Sandburg, a simple anthropologist. Are you hiding from a warlock?" Blair queried, the gentle tone of his voice compelling the man to answer.

"No."

"Is there anyone else out here in these woods with you?"

"No, no, it's just me."

"Well, you scared the daylights out of me. I'm sorry if I scared you, but I had no idea if you meant us any harm or not."

"I said I was sorr. . ."

"I know, I know." Blair said with a light chuckle. "You don’t have to apologize anymore. I'm just curious to know why you're in the middle of the forest all alone?"

"I guess you could say I'm hiding from myself," the stranger replied softly, as much to himself as out loud.

The answer was unexpected, and Blair looked to the others for help.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Jim was glad when the sounds around him failed to ignite a fiery pain in his head. Blair had eased him out of the zone out with his customary skill, and after the young man had moved to help Simon and confront the stranger, Jim had taken on the role of an observer. He could guess what had happened from the lingering scent of smoke in the air, and the faint scorch marks on the pathway. Broken bits of shell were scattered around the marks, attesting to the anthropologist's quick use of his prized acorns as a diversionary tactic. He'd have to get the whole story from Sandburg later on, and praise the kid for his quick thinking.

He took his time cataloguing the unpleasant aftereffects of the zone, and to recover his senses fully. He listened in as the big man cowered before Blair's initial burst of anger, and then silently counted the minutes before the more caring, gentle Blair he had come to know so well returned. He was not let down. When the stranger finally looked up from his crouched position, allowing the former peace officer to get a good look at his face, Jim gasped softly in recognition. He knew this man. He eased himself up onto his feet and moved to stand near Blair.

The anthropologist seemed momentarily at a loss for words when their would-be attacker turned introspective. Jim knew the grad student would recover shortly, and likely barrage the man with questions. The thought brought a smile to his face. The kid would probably have the guy's life story revealed in less than an hour, but Jim wanted to be the one to speak to the big man. Like the Sentinel, this man had been a member of Owz' Peace Officers. The reason for his being in the middle of the forest was a mystery, though, and perhaps this man would be more comfortable speaking to someone who knew where he was coming from.

"You're Joel Taggert, aren't you?" Jim asked. The look of surprise then shock on the stranger's face confirmed Jim's suspicions. "I remember you. You helped me out on a case a few years ago. Do you remember it? The arsonist? With the accelerant that made his fires burn way too hot? You helped the forensics team analyze the substance after we found their hideout. You saved a whole lot of lives."

"Yeah. I used to work with the peace officers. Was one, in fact. Maybe still am, I'm not sure." Taggert shifted around to sit cross-legged on the road at their feet. He let out a sigh as he continued. "I'm sorry, I don’t remember your name."

Jim crouched down in front of the man and stretched out his hand. "Jim Ellison. I used to be a detective in Owz." Joel took the offered hand and shook it.

"Oh. I know your face, just forgot your name." Joel bowed his head. "You must think I'm a freak."

Hearing the word he had applied to himself coming from someone else's mouth caused Jim a moment's pause. Sure, the man's extreme fear seemed odd, but how odd must the Sentinel have seemed to Blair when the young man first met him, staring blankly into space for so long then reacting so violently? This man deserved a chance to tell his story, just as Jim had. If they understood what his problem was, maybe they could help him.

The idea of assisting a virtual stranger struck him as quite odd in and of itself. Well, it might have been, before Blair Sandburg had entered his life. Just a little over two weeks in the presence of the compassionate anthropologist had taught Jim the lesson that every person deserves a chance. Shaking his head at the changes such a short time had wrought on his character, he eased himself into a seated position near the former bomb expert and waved the others over. Blair sat close by his side, his fears obviously forgotten, and the desire for understanding shining in his eyes. Simon, still wary, sat a few feet away. They formed a rough circle in the middle of the golden brick road. Jim gazed at Taggert as Blair pulled out their canteen and offered the man a drink. He sipped the water slowly, seemingly collecting his thoughts before handing the container back to the anthropologist.

"Why are you living out here by yourself?" Jim asked softly.

"I lost my nerve," Joel replied simply.

Jim glanced over at Blair, who had pulled his lower lip into his mouth and was chewing on it, lost in thought. His eyes flickered up towards Taggert then back down, the gears in his brain turning furiously. Jim decided to let Blair speak to the man after all, and nodded encouragingly at his young friend.